by Nella Tyler
I couldn't believe what Ben had asked me to do, and for a second, I felt like laughing. It was so ludicrous! What had I ever done one around Ben to indicate that I would be open to cheating or helping anyone cheat? What indication had I ever given him that I was even susceptible to the suggestion? That was what was so amazing to me. Did he think everyone could be bought so easily? Persuaded so easily?
I wished I could talk to Savannah, but I didn't feel ready to do so just yet. This morning, I was still tired, emotionally wrung out, but more aggravated than anything. Of course, I didn't even consider his offer, not even this morning in the bright light of day! I could never do anything so immoral. Oh, don’t get me wrong; I had done some things I wasn’t proud of in life, but that? No. Nothing even close. I couldn’t help but replay everything that had happened yesterday and the day before. And the day before that.
To say I was hurt and angry beyond belief was an understatement. Still in my pajamas, I wandered through my apartment, shaking my head. At least, I had my old stuff back. I was so glad I hadn't kept any of it, despite Savannah’s urgings for me to do so. Oh my goodness, how horrible would that have been? I had wondered at the time why anyone would be so lavish with gifts, and now I knew why.
After I had divorced my husband, I had sworn that I would never feel obligated to another man in my life. And while I was depressed, discouraged, and disgusted, I was glad I had stood my ground with Ben. He had insisted I could share his money, and earn more on my own. No doubt that could be nice, but that was not me. To me, it would have been dirty money, and dirty money was not worth having in my book. Some people might have succumbed to the temptation, but I would rather scramble and save every penny, watch my spending, and live paycheck to paycheck than do something like that.
Once again, I realized Ben had no concept of what it was like to earn a living. Was that his fault? Could I blame him for that? Well, maybe he did know how to make a living, but how was I supposed to know? I didn't know anything about his history, but I didn't consider playing cards, whether it was Poker, Blackjack, Baccarat, or anything else to be hard work – especially, if you cheated at it.
That was something that I also needed to consider. Now that I knew without a doubt Ben was cheating at Blackjack, should I report him? I should. As far as I was concerned, Ben was just another guy who tried to take advantage of me. Thank goodness I hadn't succumbed to his bribe.
At the same time, I knew he had goodness in him. I just couldn't understand why someone who had millions if not billions of dollars felt the need to cheat at gambling. He must have a gambling addiction. It must be the thrill of the game for him, the thrill of the challenge of cheating, the thrill of getting away without something and not being caught. After all, he had everything he really wanted in life, didn’t he? So, doing something bad was probably the only thing that provided him with any sense of excitement or challenge.
Still, I wanted nothing to do with it, and if Ben was truly a guy who thought I could be bought so easily just because I live paycheck to paycheck, well, then he didn't deserve me. While I felt good about making that kind of a decision, I also felt incredibly sad our relationship had ended this way. I really liked Ben – more than liked.
Even when I had an inkling he might be cheating, I had been willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. I was still quite amazed at the arrogance of someone outright asking me to help him cheat. Did money do that to people? Did that kind of money corrupt someone to that degree that they didn't think anything of pulling others along with them to do bad, illegal things?
I didn't get the impression that Ben was evil. Far from it. In fact, I didn't think he had an evil bone in his body. Last night, when I had walked out, he had made no move to argue with me, threaten me, or put his hands on me. Yes, that was a relief, but at the same time, it didn't make him a good guy, did it?
I paced into the kitchen and prepared a pot of coffee. I didn't have to go into work until this evening, so I had a long day ahead of me. I didn't feel like going out and doing anything, but I did need to get a handle on my emotions. That was the hard part. Because despite everything, despite the fact that Ben was cheating or counting cards and had the audacity to ask me to help him cheat, which should have nipped any feelings whatsoever I had of him in the bud, I didn’t feel that way.
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."
Savannah 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 attract
ed 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.
