Her accent was very subtle, just barely there at times.
“I’ve been playing in money games for most of my life,” he said. “The past few months I’ve been in the California casinos and poker rooms.”
“Have you played against Todd Brunson?”
“Todd? I know Doyle, but . . .”
“Todd is his son. He is supposed to be one of the ten-most-deadly money-game players.”
“I see.”
“Wait.” She placed her elbow on the table, her chin in her hand. He noticed how well toned her upper arms were. “You said you know Doyle or you know of him?”
“I know him,” he said. “Not well, but I’ve played against him, so I guess you could say I know him at the table, but we’re not personal friends.”
“You have played against Doyle in money games?”
“In Texas, years ago.”
“You have no accent, so you are not a Texan.”
“No,” he said. “I’m from Philadelphia, but Texas was where the big money games were back then.”
“Years ago,” she repeated. “You sound so old. You cannot be more than . . . what? Forty-two, three?”
“Three,” he said. “Should we discuss your age?”
She removed her chin from her hand and sat back. “I would rather talk about poker.”
“All right,” he said. “Let’s talk about poker.”
Although their conversation moved from poker on to other things, Jimmy felt they were playing the game—two games, in fact. One was the oldest game, of course, the one men and women had been playing for years. The second game, though, that was the one where two poker players—even if they’re not sitting at a green felt table—are feeling each other out, looking for tells.
Sabine showed she knew what was going on as well when she leaned forward during dessert—chocolate lava cake for both of them—and said, “What are we doing?”
“What do you mean?”
“Are we flirting?” she asked. “Or looking for weaknesses in each other?”
“Would you like me to be flirting?” he asked with a small smile.
“Well,” she said, “it wouldn’t be at all bad for my ego.”
“All right then,” he said, “we’re flirting. Or, at least, I am.”
“No,” she said, “no, I am, too.”
“Playing the game.”
“Dancing the dance.”
“But let’s be realistic,” he said. “We might very well be sitting at the same table—maybe the final table—later this week.”
“So?”
“So we can’t help but study each other, even when we don’t think we’re watching.”
“It’s unavoidable,” she said, spreading her hands in a gesture of helplessness.
“And a shame.”
She sat back in her chair. “Nothing can happen,” she said.
“Nothing.”
“Until the tournament is over.”
“That’s true.”
Jimmy wondered now if they were just flirting or actually making some kind of date.
When Jimmy and Sabine were about to leave Prime to return to the game Sabine excused herself to go to the ladies’ room. He decided to make a pit stop as well. After he washed his hands he was about to open the door when Mike Sexton came surging in.
“Mike, you scared the crap out of me.”
“Jimmy, Jimmy,” Sexton said, “I been tryin’ to get your attention.”
So he had been looking at Jimmy and not the girl.
“What’s on your mind, Mike?”
“Sabine,” Sexton said. “You’ve got to be a little bit careful about her. She’s not quite what she seems.”
“Well, whatever she is, she’s probably waiting for me outside . . .”
“No, listen,” Sexton said, “what she is now, she wasn’t always that way. She grew up hard, Jimmy, on the streets of Paris.”
“Really, Mike? The mean streets of Paris,” said Jimmy sarcastically.
“I’m serious, Jimmy,” Sexton said. “She’s a gypsy. She grew up lyin’ and stealin’ and pullin’ cons for years. And let me tell you somethin’. She did everything . . . everything you can think of.” Mike stared at Jimmy in an ominous way. He didn’t need to say more.
Jimmy got it. Sexton had just given him a little insight into Sabine’s past. Obviously, this whole classy lady thing was overcompensating for her background.
“Okay, Mike,” he said, touching the man’s arm. “Thanks for the info.”
He was waiting for Sabine when she came out but did not mention Sexton’s comments. It wasn’t the time or place, but it sure did make her more interesting.
TEN
Jimmy sat back the first day and allowed other players at the table to eliminate one another. He might as well have been reading a book for all the hands he was involved in. His play was not as aggressive as it usually was, but he’d decided that this was a good tactic for both him and Kat to adopt. Don’t play tricky against the weaker players, just solid. He was sort of an unknown except to certain players, and to them he would be something of an enigma.
What he didn’t know was that by the end of the first day Kat had already gone all in twice and survived, creating a bit of a stir at her table and attracting the attention of some other players—specifically that of a young man named Tim Bennett.
Bennett was twenty-three. He and his posse were at the vanguard of the current poker craze. They were Internet players who had taken the poker world by storm, and all of them were under the age of twenty-four. They even had Possepoker.net that was quickly becoming one of the fastest-growing sites in the world. Bennett was becoming a star and he knew it. Arrogance was his middle name.
Bennett sat at Kat’s table and saw her as a possible ally. The first time she went all in against one of the old pros and eliminated him, Bennett sat up and took a good look at her. Initially, he’d thought her an oddity with her purple hair, black fingernails, and all those piercings—probably some rich kid who decided she wanted to play against the pros, maybe get some TV time for looking Goth. Bennett and his buddies considered themselves cool, even though they dressed very J.Crew and the commentators affectionately called them preppies and geeks. They were geeks who had already collected some World Series bracelets and a couple of final tables on the World Poker Tour and were making names for themselves.
During a break Bennett put his head together with two of his posse, Eddie Brouchet and Jesse Dell, and talked about Kat.
“She’s fearless, I tell you,” he said. “We need to sign her up.”
“A girl?” Dell asked. “Why do we need a girl?”
“Well,” Bennett said, “basically because I say so, Jesse. Besides, you know we’re looking for a young chick for the site who can really play and has attitude. She might be the one.”
“I vote no,” Dell said.
Bennett looked at Brouchet. Between them they had three pieces of World Series jewelry, the only three the posse had earned.
“Hey, Jesse,” Bennett said, “when you get a bracelet on your wrist, then you get a vote, okay?”
Dell closed his mouth, pouting. The acne on his chubby cheeks seemed to glow. It wasn’t his fault that earlier that year he’d been eliminated from the WS on the first hand when his tens full had run into another player’s kings full. It wasn’t fair.
“I’m gonna approach her first chance I get,” Bennett told Brouchet.
“Fine with me. Is she good-looking?”
“She’s a Goth chick, Eddie,” Bennett said. “They scare you, remember?”
“They don’t scare me,” Brouchet whined. “I’ve just never been out with one.”
Brouchet was slightly built, with eyes that were too moist behind thick glasses and lips that were too red. Bennett suspected him of being gay and often jabbed at him about it.
“A Goth chick, Eddie?” he asked with a wicked smile. “Or a girl?”
“Damn it, Tim—”
“Forget
it, forget it,” Bennett said, slapping Brouchet on the arm. “Let’s get back to our tables. I’ll let you and the others know tonight what she said.”
“Should we tell the others?” Dell asked.
“Sure, go ahead,” Bennett said. He knew damn well that nobody’s vote counted but his. An egomaniac under normal circumstances, the fact that ESPN had done a small feature on him during the WS had inflated his conceit to impossible proportions.
No, the chick was not a knockout by any means, but there was something about her. Once he introduced himself she’d melt and maybe he’d toss her one just to initiate her into the group.
Lucky girl.
Kat had some first afternoon. Twice she had monster hands and each time found herself up against top players. Not a big name, by any means, but solid. It was a thrill to knock them out of the tournament! She knew Jimmy was going to be excited for her when he heard.
After the second all in she could feel the eyes of other players on her. Excitedly, she’d wondered if the cameras had caught it. Wouldn’t that just be too awesome to be on TV in her first tournament? There were 445 entries at the start of the tournament. With each player putting up fifteen thousand dollars, there was a total prize pool of over six million. The winner was going to take home a 1.8-million-dollar first prize. Half the field was going to be eliminated that first day in the five-day tournament. Right now she was confident she would not be one of those victims.
There was one dude at the table who was her age, maybe a little older, and she caught him watching her. She definitely recognized him but couldn’t remember his name. Then it came to her—Tim Bennett, king of the Internet players. Maybe he was hot for her, but he was too much of a preppy. Still, he was a good player, that much was obvious. Later in the day, on a break, he approached her. She couldn’t believe the attention she was getting from this budding superstar.
“Your play is pretty aggressive,” he told her.
“Thanks.”
“My name is Tim Bennett.”
He put his hand out. She gushed as she shook it. “Kat Landrigan. Yeah, that’s right, that’s who you are. I knew it. You’re the guy with that group—”
“Possepoker, the coolest and fastest growing site in the world. If you hadn’t noticed, I’m the spokesperson.”
“Right, right, I remember. Dude, that’s so cool. I’m stayin’ out of your pots for the rest of the night.”
“You play your game. I’m not worried. Did you play in a satellite to get here?”
She smiled and said proudly, “No, I paid my way.”
“Excellent. The girl’s got some cash. First time on the WPT. Right?”
“That’s right, and I’ve already doubled my chip stack.”
“You’re pretty cocky for an amateur.”
Kat’s smile froze. She didn’t like being called an amateur, even by a young poker star like him. Maybe he was just trying to be funny.
“Why don’t you have a drink with me and my guys tonight after we close up shop here?” he said. “You’re old enough to party, aren’t you?”
“Dude, I’m a party animal. I go all in when I hear party.”
“I bet you do.” Bennett smiled crudely.
Deep inside, Kat felt disrespected but was still too starstruck to realize it.
Jimmy Spain sauntered up to the table, having heard that last remark, but didn’t interrupt at first.
“Hey, I’m not talking about a date,” he said. “I’m talking about a big opportunity for you.”
“Oh, yeah?” She was beside herself.
“We’re pretty much the happening thing in poker, you know.” He lowered his voice, as if confiding in her. “We’re gonna rule for a long time to come, show these old-timers it’s time to retire. Did you see Brunson? He can’t even move anymore.”
To disrespect Doyle Brunson was, in her mind, the worst offense this young man could commit. She was starting to lower her opinion of Tim Bennett. “Dude, that’s not cool. He’s still the best poker player on the planet.”
“Not a chance. Have you seen me play?”
She had. He was no Doyle. Her young poker stud was quickly turning into a computer geek. An obnoxious one, at that. He needed to be put in his place.
“Yeah, I have. You’re not that good.”
At that moment Jimmy Spain came up and put his hand on Kat’s arm, starting to pull her away.
“Hey, I’ve been looking for you. We’ve got to talk strategy.”
Before she could answer, Bennett angrily said, “Oh, I get it. Old school here is your teacher? That’s pathetic.”
Kat got in Bennett’s face. “Whoa, computer boy, hold up. Just because you and your computer nerd friends have gotten lucky once or twice don’t make you king of the hill around here. If anybody’s got anything to prove, it’s you. This is Jimmy Spain. This dude’s forgotten more about poker than you and your friends will ever know. You don’t diss him or Doyle Brunson around me.”
Bennett looked stunned, and then the anger started to seep in.
“You ungrateful bitch,” he hissed.
“Hey, easy,” Jimmy said.
“Ungrateful because I don’t want to get gangbanged by a bunch of preppy nerds? Jesus”—Kat laughed—“half of you are probably still virgins.”
“I’ve got two bracelets, you little bitch,” Bennett said. “What’ve you got?”
“You’re raising your voice, you little shit,” Jimmy said, stepping closer. “Not around a lady. Come on, Kat. Let’s get out of here.”
They walked away.
Bennett was still seething when Lenny Krieger approached him.
“Get shot down, Tim? I never would have thought that chick was your type.”
“Shut up, Lenny.”
“Hey, I sympathize,” Krieger said. “I guess you could call her cute.”
Bennett glared at Krieger. He had no time for him today or any other day. Krieger had been trying to join the posse since day one, trying to use his daddy’s money to do it. Hell, they all had trust funds—how else could they be playing poker for a living instead of finishing college? The only difference was Lenny Krieger didn’t know Fifth Street from a hole in the ground. He stayed in too many hands, and he was panicked too easily. He’d be knocked out by the end of the first day. He was also obviously overcompensating for something, because he was a bodybuilder and liked to wear shirts tight enough to show off his muscles.
“Lenny, get the fuck away from me,” Bennett said.
“Hey, don’t be pissed at me. I didn’t shoot you down. Uh, you guys gonna have dinner tonight? I thought maybe—”
“The posse has dinner with the posse, Lenny,” Bennett said. “You’re not one of us and you never will be. Get it?”
“Yeah, I get it, Tim,” Krieger said sullenly. “But you’re gonna get yours, too, one of these days.”
Funny, Tim Bennett thought, that was exactly what he was thinking about that skinny, ungrateful Goth chick.
ELEVEN
The thing Kat Landrigan liked most about Jimmy Spain was that he never once hit on her. Never even looked at her that way, the way a lot of men—older men—looked at her. Oh, she knew they disapproved of her appearance, but some also gave her those looks—the ones that made her feel uncomfortable and dirty.
There was never a hint of that from Jimmy, not in all the time he had been tutoring her.
She had known from the beginning that she was taking a chance when she first approached him. It was she who had made contact by the pool, she who had discovered what he did for a living, and she who had asked him to teach her. If he had turned out to be a big phony, she would have cut him loose with no harm done. But from the very first time they went to a poker room together, she could see that he knew his stuff.
From then on she listened intently to everything he had to say about the game.
Now, after all the time they’d spent together, she felt they had a real bond that went beyond any other relationship she’d ever had. Eve
n though he was old enough to be her father, there was certainly no comparison there. And she’d had relationships with older men, but they didn’t last, nor had they been as satisfying as this was. And without sex to screw things up she felt this friendship could last a long time.
By the end of the day Jimmy was pleased with his own play.
Half the field had been eliminated, and Jimmy had a very respectable twenty-five thousand dollars in chips, which was about the average for all the remaining players.
Holly, the young woman without a hotel room after the first night, didn’t need to worry. She had busted out. She did manage to wink at Jimmy as she was walking away from the table and mouth, “Good luck.” It was back to the office for her.
Chris Ferguson and Erik Siedel were still very much alive even though they had been moved to different tables. Tomorrow the tables would be reconfigured. Tonight Jimmy would compare notes with Kat over beer and wonton soup at Noodles. It was a good place for them to talk about the day’s play and have a quick bite.
Jimmy and Kat were on their way to Noodles when he saw a man in an Aladdin Casino T-shirt and jeans bearing down on them, pulling a small woman along. He looked familiar to Jimmy, but it didn’t come to him until the man was almost upon them.
“Go see if there’s a table, kid,” he told Kat.
“What? It’s not time—”
“Go ahead,” he said, giving her a little push. “I’ll be along.”
As a puzzled Kat walked away, the white-haired man reached Jimmy and, with a little frown, asked, “Jimmy Spain, right?”
“That’s right.”
“See, Margaret?” the man said to the woman. “I told you it was him.”
“Yeah, you did,” the soft-looking woman said. “I’m gonna go play the penny slots, Vic.”
“Yeah, you do that,” Vic said. He looked at Jimmy and shook his head. “We’re in the Bellagio, the best casino on the Strip. And she wants to play penny slots.”
Jimmy tried a smile, but it wouldn’t come.
“Good God, man, it’s good to see you.” Vic Porcelli grabbed Jimmy’s hand and began pumping it. There was still obvious power in the man’s stocky frame.
“Yeah, good to see you, too, Vic.”
The Picasso Flop Page 6
