by Nella Tyler
To my surprise, I still liked him. I guess that would take some time to wear off. Just when I thought our relationship had begun to develop and Ben had agreed to adhere to my boundaries, he had done something totally out of left field by asking me to cheat. I shook my head again while I waited for the coffee to bubble and perk. Did he think I wouldn't report him? Why?
I already knew why. Because we had slept together. Because I liked him and he knew it. Because he knew that I didn't want to get him into trouble or banned from the casino. But still, would I be able to keep the truth to myself? Would I be able to stand in front of him at my Blackjack table and know he was cheating and not let on? How could he know that? How could he know that I wouldn’t say anything to the pit bosses? For that reason, I realized he could no longer sit at my Blackjack table.
How I was going to accomplish that, I wasn't sure. I supposed I could come right out and tell him he couldn't come to my table, but he would probably just go to someone else's. It wouldn't solve the problem. Maybe I could convince Ben not to cheat – not to try it, even if it was just to see if he could do it, to assuage some thrill he thought he would get from it.
I didn't know how often he did count cards or if there would be much of a difference in his earnings or losses if he quit altogether. In fact, why did he even have to play Blackjack? What was it about gambling that attracted him? He had enough money already, didn't he? The more I began to think about it, the more I began to wonder if I would be able to talk Ben and convince him to not only stay away from my table, but stay away from the casino altogether.
That thought made me feel a bit on the sad side because I had gotten used to him coming in every evening, flashing his grin as he sat at my table. Then again, his good looks, his charisma, his friendship, and no, not even the sex, could make up for the fact that he was a cheater. If you cheated at the Blackjack table, chances were he cheated at other games. I recalled the saying: once a cheater always a cheater. Did that apply to his personal relationships, as well?
It was more food for thought.
Ben and I had not discussed our relationship, and I certainly didn't know whether he was dating anyone else. My eyes widened as I wondered if he had other women "working" for him, helping him cheat, perhaps at other casinos around town. My mind ran away with me as I imagined the worst. Maybe I wasn't the only woman on his arm at the moment. Maybe I wasn't the only woman he was sleeping with and bribing with nice things. I recalled Savannah's reaction to his practically renovating my entire apartment. I had no doubt that Ben’s charisma, money, and seduction would work on other women, just as it had on me. The fact that I had refused his generosity was probably an anomaly.
As Savannah had said, if some guy treated her like that, she would do anything for him. Would she help someone cheat? I didn't like to think so, but then again, we all had our motivations, didn't we? We all had our Achilles heel. I knew I did, and it was that very mistrust of men that should have made me a little more wary about the attention that Ben had been paying to me lately and his relentless pursuit of my affections.
Once again, I felt discouraged and depressed and yes, foolish that it hadn't really been my affections that he was after, but my position at the casino. Like I always said: fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.
I wondered if I should do some checking around, see if Ben was playing any of the other casinos in Atlantic City. He wouldn't possibly limit all his action to one, would he? I didn't know much about gamblers, let alone gambling addiction. Maybe it was time for me to find out.
Chapter 2
By noon, I had pulled myself together a bit better, but I was still upset. I decided I would give Savannah a call, fill her in on what happened between Ben and I the previous evening. I still wasn't quite sure what to expect of her reaction because recently, her reactions, advice, opinions, and thoughts had been totally unexpected. I pulled my iPhone out of my purse and glanced at it. No text messages and no missed calls from Ben. Figures.
I pulled her up on the contact list and gave her a call. She answered after the second ring.
"Hey, Maggie, what's happening?"
"Nothing too great," I began. "I need someone to talk to. You got some time?"
"Sure," Savannah said. "I don't have to be at work until this evening. You?"
"Me, either," I said.
"Okay, let me get comfortable." Silence for a few moments. "Okay, I'm comfy. Shoot."
So I began to tell Savannah everything – everything that had pretty much happened since that first time Ben asked me out: the wining and dining, the sex, minus details, and the fact that despite my best efforts, I was beginning to feel an attraction to him.
"So, I gather that something happened last night that has caused some concern?"
"You could say that," I said. I paused, but she didn't rush me. This is difficult. Would Savannah be able to keep this just between us? "What I need to know first, Savannah, is if we can consider this conversation confidential."
"Like in confession?"
"If you want to think of it that way," I said. I sat down on my ratty old couch, crossed one leg over the other, and nervously wiggled my foot. "I'm serious. It could get Ben, and maybe even me into a lot of trouble, and the last thing I need now is trouble."
Savannah didn't say anything for a moment. "Oh my God," she said, her voice soft. "You're really serious, aren't you?"
"More serious than I’ve been in a long time, Savannah. So what do you say? Secret?"
"Believe it or not, when the chips are down, I can keep a secret," she said. "Tell me."
So I did, proceeding to tell my best friend what happened last night. The fact that we had gone back to his mansion, but this time to a room that I'd never seen before. I had to patiently describe the room to Savannah, as she wanted every detail. I told her about the fireplace, the wallpaper, the flooring, the gold painted crown molding, and the platter of hors d'oeuvres on a silver platter, the champagne on ice – the works.
"He didn't ask you to have a threesome or something did he?"
Despite myself, I laughed. "No, Savannah, he didn't ask me to do a threesome."
"That’s disappointing… I would have loved to be a third in on that…just kidding… Well, it had to be something pretty bad," she said without skipping a beat. "So what did he say? What did he ask you?"
"He asked me, puffing out his chest with confidence while he did it, that there was no way that I would say no…"
"What was it that you couldn't possibly say no to?" she pressed.
"Savannah, he asked me to cheat on the Blackjack game-"
She gasped. I'm sure she hadn't been expecting that. "But that's not all."
"Go on," she encouraged.
"He told me that if I did, I would have his money at my disposal, as well as making some on my own. Can you believe that?"
"Wait. He told you that if you helped him cheat or count cards or whatever it is he does at the Blackjack table, you could have access to his money, as much of it as you wanted, and you could also be making more on your own to keep for yourself?"
"That's about it," I sighed.
"Oh my God," she said. "What did you tell him?"
For a second I was shocked. "What?"
"So, what did you tell him?" she repeated.
"I told him to forget it!" I said. "What do you think I told him? I was totally disgusted and wanted nothing more than to slap some of that arrogance out of him!"
Savannah said nothing for several moments. Finally, she sighed. "So, as far as you’re concerned, Prince Charming has turned into Prince Prick… Is that about the size of it? You want me to come over? Talk?"
I shook my head. "That's okay, Savannah,” I said, not sure what to think about her reaction. Again, it hadn’t been what I expected. I was still stuck on the threesome bit. “I just want to be left alone, but I did want to have someone to talk to, to get it off my chest and to… I don't know how to even explain it."
Savan
nah commiserated with me, and I was relieved that for once, she seemed to be on my side. "I'm sorry this happened, Maggie," she said. “After all the times that you've refused to go out on a date, let alone a second date, and then to have this happen…"
"Tell me about it," I said, feeling the warmth of tears once again burning behind my eyelids. I blinked them back. "Just when I was beginning to feel like we had something going, that we were really in the early stages of a relationship… Now, I realize that he was only using me-"
"I'm not so sure about that, Maggie," Savannah interrupted. "From what I've seen, I think he really likes you."
"Why? Just because he wanted to renovate my apartment? Wine and dine me? Seduce me? Impress me with all his money, his fancy house, and his limo?"
Savannah sighed. "I can understand why you're feeling this way, but believe me, Maggie, you're a great person. Sure, he might've been testing you a little, feeling you out, trying to determine whether he could trust you enough to even ask you to help him cheat, but I honestly think that he does…did…like you, and not just so that he could use you."
I disagreed, and I told her so. We stayed on the phone for nearly an hour, generally complaining about men, their stupidity when it came to women, and of course, what I was going to do about Ben's request. I replied honestly. "I already know, but I just don’t know what I’m going to do about it yet," I said. "I have some thinking to do on that."
Finally, having gotten my initial sense of frustration and anger out of my system, and once again declining Savannah’s offer to come over and commiserate with me or to go out and have a drink with her, we disconnected. It'd be nice to talk to someone about it. Who else could I talk to that understood the situation? Savannah and I worked at the same place, were under the same pressure, were expected to abide by the same rules. There was no ambiguity there.
I knew what the right thing to do was, what I was required to do, but I hesitated. Deep down inside, I didn't want to see Ben get into trouble. Sometimes, casino owners could not only banish someone from the casino, but depending on who was involved, more than a few clients have gotten beat up, like in the old days when the mob ruled the gambling casinos. These days there were less obvious about it, but I heard rumors. I didn't want to get Ben into that kind of trouble.
I went into my bedroom and tried to take a nap, then decided that a warm shower might help relax me. By the time I got out of the shower and donned my favorite lounging-around-the-house clothes, I glanced once again at my phone. I had missed a call. From Ben. He had left a voicemail. For several moments, I just stared down at the icon, debating with myself whether I should listen to it or not. I didn't want to, but then again, I kind of did.
What I should do is just delete it, and I wouldn't have to look at it, address it, or even think about it. I knew that if I did listen to it, I was just going to get upset all over again. In a fit of pique and once again insulted that he had even considered asking me to cheat, I deleted the voicemail without listening to it. As far as I was concerned, he didn't deserve my courtesy respect. The fact that he had so blithely made such a suggestion, knowing the kind of trouble that I as a Blackjack dealer could get into, had me burning all over again.
The relaxing shower and my intention of taking a nap fell by the wayside, as once again I grew agitated by the proposition he had given me. I paced inside my apartment, round, round, and around. I felt so unsettled, so disturbed that I didn't even know how to explain it. It was then that I realized just how much affection I had developed for Ben, despite my best intentions not to. I had only been fooling myself all this time. I was such an idiot, so enthralled with the idea that someone like Ben was attracted to me that I had fallen for everything he said.
I thought my ex-husband had been a sneak, but in a way, Ben was just a sneaky, even though he wasn’t being quite as sneaky as someone trying to pull something over on me like my husband had with his…with his affairs. No, Ben had come right out and said what he wanted from me. He hadn’t beaten around the bush at all. That brought up the question of whether I should do some checking on him. Had he done this before? When it came right down to it, how could I? I couldn't afford a private detective and I had no friends I could ask to do such a thing, not even Savannah. She had her own problems to deal with, her own work hours.
I supposed I could go do some checking myself, but that would seem rather suspicious if I showed up at another casino asking about one of the players. Chances were I'd get shut down from the dealers just like I would shut someone down who came and asked me about one of the players at my Blackjack table. I've had my share of jealous husbands, clingy wives, and boyfriends and girlfriends and anywhere in between looking for their significant others. I've even had some looking for people they felt were missing.
In every case, whether I recognized the person or not, I always referred them to the security personnel at the casino, or if they didn’t want to talk to them, to the cops. Of course, if the cops came looking for someone, then I could say something and not feel one iota of guilt about doing so. But that wasn't usually the case.
Most people assumed that being a dealer in the casino was a luxurious, non-demanding job, but such was not the case. I was constantly not only paying attention to the players, but to the actions of others surrounding them. I had to not only watch the players for signs of cheating, but their friends or bystanders who would often saunter up to the table, drinking and admiring the skills of the players, all the while offering tells or signals to any one of the players.
No one was allowed to stand behind me or within a certain distance of me, but that didn't prevent those were drunk, or pretending to be drunk, occasionally stumbling beyond the boundaries. The moment that happened, the pit boss or security would immediately step in. It was amazing, really, how many different ways there were to cheat. The fact that I hadn't pinpointed Ben's method wasn't surprising. He could be a math whiz for all I knew, able to determine after dealing the first run of cards the chances of a particular card showing up on the next run.
But none of that was my problem, was it? I might have an inkling that someone was cheating, but until I saw definitive signs or proof, I couldn't just very well go accusing them of it, could I?
Unfortunately, Savannah hadn't been able to give me any specific advice about what I should do. Neither one of us had exactly been put into this position before. It was new territory for me, that's for sure. The fact that Ben trying to get in touch with me disturbed me. Was he going to try to convince me to join him again? Was he going to try to shrug it off and say that it was no big deal? Was he going to apologize, and then pretend it never happened?
Even if he did apologize, would it change my feelings about him? I didn't want to think so. He had shown some different colors, and I didn't like those colors one bit. Instead of taking his proposition as a compliment, I had received it as an insult to my character. An insult to the person I was? And if he hadn't been able to see the type of person I was after the times we had gone out or the number of times he had sat in front of me at my Blackjack table, then he was blind. That, or extremely obtuse.
At this point, I didn't really care. I didn't need these problems. I wanted him to go away. I wanted things to go back to the way they used to be, not that they were that great, but at least, I felt comfortable. Now, everything was such an uncertainty. It would be extremely awkward if he came to sit at my table tonight. What would I say? What could I say?
I spent the rest of the day moping around my apartment, lounging, watching TV, and otherwise trying to ignore my thoughts about Ben, what he had done, and what he had said. He tried calling a couple more times that afternoon, but again I refused to answer. He left voice mails each time and I deleted them without listening. It made me feel bad, no doubt about it, but I had to be firm. He had to know that he had stepped way beyond the bounds of friendship in propositioning me the way he had.
"What the hell were you thinking?" I asked the iPhone out loud after I had del
eted the last voice mail, my voice heavy with frustration. Of course I got no answer.
*
To my surprise, Ben didn't show up at my Blackjack table last night. To say that I felt relieved was a certainty because I really didn't want to see him right now. At the same time I felt a little disappointed. So that was it? Had he disappeared? Had he left town? Or worse yet, had he found someone else to ply with gifts, charm, and sex to get them to do what he requested?
If I wasn't careful, I would work myself up into quite a dither, so I just tried to focus on work. A couple of regulars showed up at my table during my shift, but so did plenty of new faces. For the first time in several days, I felt relaxed at my job. I didn't feel as if the pit bosses had targets painted on my back.
After my shift, still mentally exhausted and emotionally wrung out, I went home. I didn't even turn on the lights, but locked my front door and headed straight for my bedroom. In the dark, I undressed and then put on my pajamas, or what served as my pajamas anyway: a cut off pair of gym shorts and a tank top. I climbed into bed and immediately fell asleep with no bad dreams.
*
The following morning, I woke feeling refreshed. I made a pot of coffee, thinking that today would be a good day. It was going to be a good day. I demanded it. I was going to move forward from this, and not dwell on it. Unfortunately, my good feelings and the best of my intentions fell by the wayside when I glanced at my phone. Several missed calls and at least five text messages from Ben. I wasn't surprised that I hadn't noticed last night because I had turned the ring tone off on my phone while at work with my phone was tucked inside my purse in my locker. I hadn't even looked at it when I got home.
