by Gale Massey
CHAPTER
4
WHEN JAMIE WALKED through the front door of the check-cashing store, Jack ignored her until he finished counting out cash for a customer. She stood shivering in the corner until they left. Once the store was clear, he shut the cash register and put up the back-in-five sign. Then he pulled her into his small office in the back.
“I’ve been calling you for an hour. My cash drawer is almost empty. I was going to have to send folks to the bank, and you know that’s not how I make money.”
She knew that. Cashing payday checks with a twenty-percent fee and laundering her uncle’s money for a neat ten percent was how Jack DelMar made money.
His laptop sat opened up on his desk, glowing in the dark room. She flipped on the overhead light.
“Sorry,” she said, and tossed her backpack on the ratty futon. “I ran an errand and then stopped by Angel’s. I’m only an hour late.”
“You’re two hours late, but that’s not the real problem. You haven’t been online today, have you?”
“No, my computer died. What’s going on?”
He pointed to his laptop. “You won’t believe it.”
She sat down and tried to understand the logo on the screen. It was an official-looking government seal, and that never meant anything good. “What is that?”
He leaned over her shoulder and pointed. “Look at the URL. That was Poker Stars, but it’s been shut down.”
“Uh, no. That can’t be right.” She refreshed the screen, opened a new window, typed in another address, and watched as the same seal appeared. Poker Stars, Mega Chips. The same government seal was displayed on every site. Her hands were still freezing but sweat pricked at the back of her neck. “What the hell? I have six thousand dollars in there.”
“Had. You had six thousand dollars in there. They shut the whole thing down.”
Oh, fuck, no. Her eyes started jumping around the screen. “What? They can’t do that.”
“They’re the U.S. Justice Department, Jamie. They can do anything they want. They can crawl through that laptop and take your entire checking account if they want to.”
“But it’s my money. I won it.” She pulled off her stocking cap.
“Why didn’t you transfer it? You should know better than to leave that much money out there.”
“Don’t talk to me like I’m a child. I transferred it the same day I won it, over a week ago. I’ve been waiting for it to come through.”
“Bastards. Those sites probably knew this was coming down and stopped paying out.”
“Shit.” She dropped her head to the desk. “He’s going to kill me.”
“Who?”
She pulled Loyal’s packet out of her pocket and tossed it on the desk.
He picked it up and peeled back the broken seal. “Oh, man, are you kidding me?”
She had refolded the envelope neatly, but the tape was slit and the folds didn’t match the size of the bundle inside. It was obvious that some of the money was gone.
“Ten percent of that was mine.” His voice seemed distant.
She closed her eyes. Her mind raced with panicky half-thoughts. The back of her uncle’s hand. Three thousand dollars. Eight hours. She opened her eyes again. “What am I going to do?”
He thumbed through the bills. “You better get it back and you better be quick about it. There’s two thousand here.”
Her hands trembled as she dug out the receipt for the computer and read the fine print. “God damn. Electronics sales are nonrefundable.”
“I can’t believe you.”
“He’ll kill me if he finds out.”
“He won’t kill you,” he said unconvincingly. “It depends on how Keating takes it. They split the rest. You know that, right? And they pay rent on all the sites in the middle of the month.”
Fuck. She hadn’t figured that in. She logged into her bank account, fumbling with the password. “Maybe the transfer came through before they shut it down.”
He dropped to the futon and shook a cigarette from his pack. “It was all over the news. They shut it down at midnight last night. I checked.”
She got the account called up and saw she was overdrawn. “Can you cover it for me?” She immediately regretting asking and added, “I mean, I can work it off.”
“I know a guy who’d pay a couple hundred for a video of a naked girl doing it.”
He could be such an ass. “Really? I’m fucked and you bring that up?” But even as she spoke, an idea began to take shape. There was only one way to make that much cash in a single day, and it wasn’t by blowing him.
“Suit yourself.” He held the cigarette between his teeth.
This is what it feels like, she thought, when there aren’t any good options and the walls start closing in. This is when you make a move or die standing in the same pathetic town where you were born. Loyal knew exactly how much cash was in that packet. She thought through the options again.
“I’m going to Mimawa.”
“Mimawa? That’s your solution? You’re whacked.”
She stood up and threw her backpack onto her shoulder. “You got another idea, I’m listening.”
“You’re just a kid. You’ve never even been inside a casino.”
“But I know poker.” She picked up the remaining cash and stuffed it back in the envelope. “Tell my uncle I never showed up today.”
“No.” He blew smoke out the side of his mouth. “It’s a bad idea.”
“You know I’m good and you know I’m on a roll.”
He studied her hard, shook his head.
“You can come and watch or you can stay here by yourself, but I’m doing this, with or without you.”
He was silent.
“If everything goes well, we can get a room.” It wasn’t exactly a lie. If she won fast enough, they could get a room for a few hours.
He smiled and picked up his car keys.
CHAPTER
5
JAMIE STARTED THE engine of Jack’s Taurus to let it warm and crawled over to the passenger’s seat while he locked up the store. Her fingers were freezing but her gloves had gone missing days ago. She stuck her hands in her armpits and thought about the odds of beginner’s luck. It could happen. It’s a long shot, but it only takes one lucky streak. One big hand under the right circumstances could turn everything around.
Mimawa was one hour away. Close enough to be back before nightfall if they got in and out quick. Thinking about the possibility of losing Loyal’s money, she almost changed her mind, but then, as the lights in Jack’s store went out and he came running through the sleet, a little adrenaline kicked in. You got to be in it to win it. Despite the odds, she had to try her luck.
They took the county road south to loop around town and avoid the traffic at the caution light out by the Walmart. A mile from the interstate they passed a series of neon billboards, brilliant and crackling with electricity. It tingled weirdly on her face and she rubbed her cheeks. “Do you feel that?”
“Yeah. Takes some juice to light that much neon. That buzz is why the cows won’t graze over there.” He turned onto the ramp for the interstate. Rain drizzled against the intermittent headlights of oncoming traffic, wipers cutting through the ice thickening on the windshield. “When we get there, I might play some roulette. See if my numbers hit. You know, just get the feel of the place.”
“I thought you’d been there.”
“It’s been a while.”
“What numbers do you play?”
“When’s your birthday?”
They were so new they didn’t even know each other’s birthdays yet. “Seven-ten.”
“Then that’s what I’m playing.” He wedged his cold fingers under her left leg and she shivered from the unexpected chill. “Sorry,” he said. “I left my gloves at home this morning.”
Home. She thought about that word for a moment, then dismissed it. They spent what nights they had together sleeping on the futon in his office, and once,
a motel. He hogged the bed so much that at times she almost preferred her cot at the trailer. But Jack had been good to her and now he was trying to help her out of this mess. Secrets like this kept lovers close. Still, her stomach turned every time she thought about having slit open that envelope.
She wished she hadn’t eaten that salami at Angel’s. She dug through her backpack hoping to find some crackers, anything to settle her stomach.
“You got your ID, right?” He gave her a pseudo-daddy look and she huffed. “And watch yourself, okay? At the casino.”
“I can take care of myself.”
“I’m not joking,” he said. “Keep your drink covered and don’t let anyone near it. Guys will slip something in your drink just to get an advantage at the table. Be careful.”
“Okay, I hear you,” she said. “I grew up around Loyal’s crowd. Those guys spend entire weekends blitzed out on crack and weed. I got this.” She wanted to reassure him, needed the reassurance herself. In home games she got away with a lot of tricks, but in a place like Mimawa there’d be cameras and floor bosses, people watching her hands all the time.
He squeezed her leg. “Maybe we should check in, you know, get a room for a few hours.”
“Only if things go well and there’s time. Otherwise, I’ve got to get back for a game at Keating’s.”
Jack turned in his seat. “You’re playing a house game at Judge Keating’s?”
“No, I’m dealing it.” She didn’t look at him but stared out the windshield, hoping he’d put his eyes back on the road.
“Huh. He pay you for that?”
“Yeah, a hundred bucks and the winner usually tips something.”
“You dealing legit?”
“Depends.” She didn’t really want to discuss it. “How far to the casino?”
“Not far,” he said. “You can be hard to read sometimes.”
“No harder than anyone else. It’s called a poker face.” They passed a car in the right lane and water sprayed the windshield, hitting her door. They skidded a little and she held her breath until they were clear.
“You’re getting in a little deep, you know? Your uncle runs a business that might not be suited for a girl.”
“I’ve been around it most of my life. I know how things work. You get the money from my uncle, right? And get it in the bank without anyone noticing? What’s the big deal?” She was crossing a line here, but he’d brought it up and Loyal was so secretive about his business that she wondered if Jack really knew any more than she did.
“It’s a lot more than that, but you don’t need details.”
“Sounds complicated,” she said, hoping he’d continue. Sometimes when she played dumb, he’d brag a little and she’d find out some new detail.
She’d grown up driving around the county with her uncle and Toby, hanging out in the truck while Loyal went inside a store or pub and cleared a machine of cash. Running his routes with him was how she’d learned to drive in the sleet and ice, learned how to take a sharp curve at the top of a rise. She’d been to each location, knew exactly how big his operation was: as wide as the county and then some. Big enough nobody talked about it and profitable enough to pay cops to look the other way.
“People get to gamble, win now and then. Makes them feel good. Everybody gets a cut, everybody keeps their mouth shut,” he said. “But cops can be tricky. New ones come along, old ones get promoted. They get uppity for no good reason and decide not to play along.”
They skidded sideways when they hit a puddle and she decided to drop it and let him concentrate on driving. She worried about the tread on his tires, but she fought the urge to mention it, focusing instead on the droplets of water smearing the windshield, the rhythm of the wipers, the lightning off in the distance. After thirty miles of interstate, they hit a second cluster of neon billboards, the drizzle catching in the light like gems, and then there was the exit for the casino.
The landscape was clear-cut to the point of desolation, as though a bomb had detonated and wiped out trees in every direction for a mile. Inside the gates, though, it was all gloss and shine. Even the rain looked pricey. In the rainy afternoon light, the marquee and its spot-lit fountain glowed like a landing strip. The valet, smiling in his yellow slicker, motioned them to the curb, but Jack waved him off and headed to the five-story parking garage in the back.
Jamie caught her reflection in the window and wished she’d gone with more eyeliner and a different top. She brushed a stray hair off her shoulder, thinking how Angel would be appalled at her for wearing a sweater to a casino. Her hair glistened in the reflection when she swooshed it out from behind her ears and she reminded herself that she wasn’t so plain, that she could be pleasing with a little more effort.
Inside the foyer, Jack put on his sunglasses and pulled his hoodie over his head. The entrance was high and wide with an overblown elegance of marble floors, wood paneling, and brass lamps, attendants in jackets and ties, a chandelier reflecting like firecrackers in Jack’s glasses. Closer to the slot machines, the ceiling dropped low and the carpet got thick, but it wasn’t enough to soften the seizure-inducing strobe lights or drown out the pings and bells and a mechanical voice screaming, “Wheel! Of! Fortune!”
The place was full of wealthy people flaunting their privilege, middle-aged couples on spending sprees and second honeymoons, and losers—the ones on the down and out and pushing their luck: an old woman chain-smoking and camped out in front of a slot machine, an unshaved man wedged in a corner and seemingly asleep. Gambling was a community affair. Lots of people lost so a few could win. Almost everybody left a little closer to broke. The roulette tables were full, so she and Jack walked past the cash cage toward the back. A cover band was set up by the bar and they might have been playing “Hotel California,” but over the din of the crowd, it was hard to tell.
The poker room was tucked in the back of the casino with a velvet rope at the perimeter that kept spectators at a distance from the tables, a security measure to minimize collusion. She knew the story. Players working in teams; a spotter across the room with a cell phone at waist level snapping pictures of an opponent’s hole cards and relaying them to their partner with hand signals.
“God, I miss this. I used to play here sometimes. Watch me and you’ll get the hang of it,” Jack said, and took a seat at a Texas Hold’em table near the front. He tugged his hoodie low over his eyes. Jamie knew his tough-guy look wouldn’t intimidate the half-drunk rednecks who’d been waiting all day for him to show up with his big fat wallet, but he’d brought her here and that meant they were a team. She owed him a little loyalty, so she stood on the rail and watched as he bought in for two hundred dollars.
The cards went flying, and the action opened with Jack. He peeked at his two hole cards and bet twenty. Two players called his bet.
The dealer laid out the flop, the first three community cards, and the beginnings of what might amount to a ten-high straight. Jack raised the pot by thirty and the two players stayed with him. The fourth card was a king and Jack bet forty more chips. The first guy folded but the guy to his right scratched his nose and tensed his jaw, the snake tattoo on his neck twitching as he squelched a smile and called Jack’s bet.
The dealer turned the last card. The action was on Jack and he bet another forty. Mr. Itchy Nose raised it to a hundred. Jack called the bet and turned over his pocket kings, clearly convinced he had the best hand.
Itchy Nose smiled big now and showed the straight he’d caught on the flop. Jack had lost his whole stack in one play. “Fucking hell.” He knocked his chair over when he pushed away from the table.
Shit. This is no way to start the night.
“What was that?” Jamie asked when he got to the sideline.
“Asshole. Who fucking plays a straight like that?” He yanked his sunglasses off. Sweat was thickening on his forehead and a vein pulsed wickedly at his throat. He was angrier than Jamie had ever seen him, but he’d played it all wrong and she couldn’t keep fro
m saying so.
“You should’ve seen that coming,” she said. “He had you all the way.”
“Fucker played a seven/eight against my kings. He just got lucky.”
“He didn’t get lucky; he played it perfectly. He didn’t raise the pot because he had the nuts and he wanted to keep you in the hand. Playing it slow like that guaranteed he’d take all of your chips.”
“What are you talking about?” He took off his sunglasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “No one folds three kings.”
“You should have. It was a bad call. He trapped you and you didn’t even think twice.” Jamie knew she should shut up, but it had been so obvious. “Plus his jaw muscles popped out when you made that bet. He scratched his nose so you wouldn’t see him smile.”
Jack pointed at her with his sunglasses. “So how would you have played it?”
“You bet a hundred and he reraises? You got to look at the board and see he was working a straight. You got to fold that. You got to know right there you’re beat. Fold it and walk away.”
Jack shrugged. “What if he’s bluffing?”
“If he was bluffing he would’ve raised the flop. He was trapping all the way.”
Jack unzipped his hoodie and glared at Itchy Nose. “So, how do you know this shit?”
“Mom taught me.”
“That right?” Jack pulled out the envelope and gave her a hundred-dollar bill. “You think you can beat that guy?”
Instantly, she wished she hadn’t mentioned her mom, the ex-felon. No one needed to know about her and how, when other moms were teaching their daughters to bake, Phoebe was showing Jamie how to peel an ace off the bottom of a deck. They used to stay up all night playing cards. They’d fall asleep at the table, wake up the next morning, and play through another day. Jamie could never get enough.
Kitchen table poker was one thing, but this place was for real, and without the deck in her hand the playing field would be level. This place attracted suckers after a quick fix, dads trying to stretch a paycheck, old-timers hoping to turn a pension check into another month of Early Times and Marlboros. Maybe she was just another chump, but she needed to turn things around and she needed to do it today. Besides, no one was forced to come here and put their money on the table. Luck was just that. It could hit her just as easily as it hit anyone else. She took the bill from Jack and said, “I’ll need two of those.”
