by Ken Kelly
Rick had $45 left and needed to break. “Deal me out,” he told the dealer as he got up and headed for the men’s. He found it easy enough, took care of business, washed his hands and stepped back into the card room. Not far from where he was standing he saw an elevated area enclosed behind a light wood and opaque glass divider. He saw a couple of people walk in and one walk out.
When a cocktail waitress came by he asked her about the place.
“That’s where the high stakes poker is played,” she said. She pointed to another room, full of empty poker tables behind glass. “The real high stakes poker is played in Bobby’s Room but that doesn’t happen every day.”
Bobby’s Room, Rick knew, was named for Bobby Baldwin, winner of the 1978 World Series of Poker Main Event, and president of the Bellagio. Rick also knew the cocktail waitress needed to get back to work so he thanked her and watched her move through the tables with her tray of drinks.
Rick walked over to the entrance to the high stakes games and looked in at a game in progress. A woman, a real heavyweight who, Rick guessed, had to be at least 275 lbs, was raking in a good size pot. She wore brown cargo shorts, an xxxlarge red T-shirt , and a baseball hat, bill to the back. She was trash talking the man she’d just beat who was sitting across from her and was dressed almost the same: T-shirt, shorts, sandals, and hat in the same position. He was a little lighter, maybe 250, and he too was an accomplished trash talker, even in defeat.
While they were going back and forth a floor man walked up to Rick and said, “There’s a seat open in that game if you’re interested.”
“No thanks,” said Rick. “There doesn’t seem to be a dress code for the high stakes area, huh?”
The man smiled and said, “None that I’m aware of.”
On the way back to his table Rick saw the dealer push Gloria a big pot. He smiled. At least one of them was winning.
Rick took two hundred dollar bills out of his wallet and laid them on the table in front of his chips.
“Two hundred plays,” said the dealer as he dealt Rick his first card. Before he got his second one a chip runner took the bills and replaced them with two stacks of five dollar chips.
This is it, thought Rick, this $200 works for me or it doesn’t but it’s my last buy-in. A half a dozen hands later, when Rick was in the big blind, he looked down at 10, 4 of diamonds. Three people limped in, one of them the woman who married on October 4. No one raised so Rick saw the flop for no extra charge. He knew any raise would have driven him out so when he saw the flop, 10, J, 10 rainbow he smiled to himself and bet $35. Everyone called and the dealer turned the 4 of clubs.
“Ten, four,” cried the lady, “my lucky numbers!”
Not this time babe, Rick thought as he bet $75. The lady called without hesitation which wasn’t what Rick wanted to see. The two other players folded and dealer turned over the river card: 7 of hearts.
Rick had a feeling something was wrong but he didn’t know what. If the woman had him beat she’d done a good job of smooth calling him all the way. She had to have the last 10 but what else did she have? A 7? Not likely. A 4? Possibly. If she had a 4 they’d split the pot. Or did she have a Jack? Oh God, please don’t let her have a Jack.
Rick had just over one hundred left and the lady had him covered. He could bet it all and she’d call or he could check and call her bet. Either way if she held a Jack he was toast.
“Check.”
The woman waited for a few seconds and then said, “Check.”
Rick and the lady turned over their cards and the dealer called their hands, Rick’s first. “Full house, tens over fours.”
He looked at the lady’s hole cards, a Jack and a ten, and announced, “Full house, tens over Jacks,” and began pushing to pot toward the lady.
“Why didn’t you bet?” Rick asked as the woman stacked her chips. “You had a near lock, you could hardly lose.”
“I don’t know, I’ll have to think about it.”
“If you come up with an answer let me know, I’d be interested.”
Rick gave his chips a quick count, $115. That’s $115 that should have been in the woman’s stack but since he still had it he planned to make the most of it. Maybe he’d follow the example of the guy who took $20,000 to $120,000 in an hour. Could he take $115 to $1,000 in an hour? Why not, all things were possible.
The lady’s husband signaled and she grabbed a couple of empty racks from a tray behind her. Her two cards arrived as she racked her chips. She looked at them and slid them into the muck then told the dealer to deal her out. When she got up and went to the cashiers cage Rick noticed that she was quite attractive. She was about 5’ 4,” and had a nice shape accentuated by tight jeans, medium heel boots and a spaghetti strap blouse. Rick shook his head. It was hard to believe she’d trounced him twice.
The next time Rick was in the big blind he picked up a pair of 7’s. A guy four seats to Rick’s right, who Rick knew to be a blind stealer, opened for $18. The small blind called and so did Rick and the flop came A, 7, 9 two spades and one heart. The small blind bet $45 and Rick and the blind stealer both called. The turn card was the 4 of clubs. The dreaded 4, Rick thought, glad the 10, 4 lady was not in the hand.
The small blind checked and Rick, who figured now was the time to knock out any flush draws or at least make them pay, pushed in the rest of his chips, $53. He was surprised when he got two calls. The last card was a queen of hearts and nobody bet.
“Let’s see ‘em,” said the dealer. The blind stealer threw his cards into the muck, a busted flush was Rick’s guess. The small blind show an A, 9, for the top two pairs and Rick showed a pair of 7’s to make a set. The dealer pushed the pot to Rick. When he counted them up he had $345, he’d tripled his money in one hand.
Three hands later he looked down at a pair of kings. He bet $22 in an effort to narrow the field, a standard play when holding a big pair or an ace, king, since the less people you have in the pot the less the chance someone will draw out on you. But that wasn’t going to happen in this pot.
One of the Frenchmen, a solid player a step or two above the level of his countrymen, raised a hundred and twenty five. Rick’s first thought was Aces followed by kings or queens. Kings was a long shot since he held two of them so it was likely the Frenchman was holding Aces or queens. Rick usually didn’t go all in before the flop. He subscribed to the big hand, big pot theory which suggested you should have a big hand when getting involved in a big pot. Two kings was a big hand before the flop but if an Ace showed up on the flop a pair of kings was highly compromised. However there are exceptions to every rule so Rick, wanting to get all the decisions on this pot behind him, pushed the rest of his chips into the middle. The Frenchman called.
Rick turned over his kings and the Frenchman, with a wry smile, flipped a pair of queens. Because the betting was over the turn and river cards came quickly. Rick’s hand dominated the Frenchman’s but for some reason he felt uneasy. He wasn’t much of a believer in feelings or hunches but he felt like something bad was on its way and when the dealer turned over the queen of hearts he knew what it was. The Frenchman’s smile didn’t change but he took a deep breath and watched the river card come off the deck and onto the felt next to the queen: the king of spades. What are the odds? Rick thought.
The dealer pushed Rick the pot and the Frenchman said, “Good hand.”
“Lucky hand, anyway.”
“Good and lucky.”
“Yeah, I guess it is.”
The Frenchman and his friends were a class act, Rick concluded. The youngest must have lost $600 by now, $100 at a time. One was ahead some and the one Rick had just beat had been ahead until his three queens ran into three kings. It took class to congratulate someone who had just taken most of your chips, especially when they drew out on you at the river. They all seemed cheerful, enjoying the game and Las Vegas, despite bad luck at the poker table. Not everyone can do that when they’re losing.
A half an hour later Rick passed his goal of $1000. He took his chips to the cashiers window and received $1035. Then he went to Gloria’s table, walked behind her and, like the husband of the 10, 4 girl, started rubbing her shoulders.
“That feels nice,” Gloria said.
“Looks like you’re doing well.” Rick could see she had about $2500 in front of her.
“Yeah, I’ve won some. Are you about ready to go?”
“Ready when you are.”
Gloria looked at the dealer’s button. “Three more hands and I’m done.”
Rick walked to the entrance of the poker room to wait for Gloria. He looked over at her table and saw her muck her hand. Then he looked past her to the rail beyond her table. Standing ten yards from Gloria, in his charcoal gray suit, both hands resting on the rail, was Frank Selucci. He wasn’t looking Gloria’s way but was scanning the tables behind her, focusing on the players one by one.
Rick put his head down and touched his forehead with his thumb and index finger. “Not this,” he said under his breath.
He was pretty sure Selucci hadn’t seen her yet but he would in a matter of seconds. Rick wanted to walk over and take Gloria away from the table but Selucci would see her quicker then and he’d see him as well. Rick watched Selucci scanning the table next to Gloria’s and knew hers would be next.
Just then a stunning brunette, showing her long slim legs and head turning cleavage, come alongside Frank and hooked her arm in his. She began whispering in his ear and rubbing his chest. Frank smiled and whispered something in her ear which made her laugh. She slapped his chest and laughed again and then she and Frank walked back into the casino. Rick closed his eyes and exhaled.
Rick and Gloria took the freeway back to North Vegas and talked about their respective games. “You looked like you won about $1500.”
“Just under. How did you do?”
“Won $535 after been down to my last $115. If I lost that I wasn’t going to buy any more.”
Gloria pointed up the freeway and said, “Look at that.”
On the shoulder of the road, a hundred yards ahead, was a woman and a child who looked to be about 4 years old, standing next to a grey sedan. When she saw the tow truck the woman began waving it down.
“Can we stop?” asked Gloria. “She looks like she needs help.”
“I can stop and find out what’s the matter but I can’t tow in Nevada with California plates.”
Gloria was about to say something when Rick added, “unless the tow originated in California.”
“Oh.”
Rick pulled off the freeway and rolled up behind the sedan. He and Gloria both got out. “What’s the trouble?”
“Out of gas,” said the woman, a blond, about 5’6, a looker with a show girl figure.
“Okay, get in and pop the gas cover.”
While she took care of that Rick got a 5 gallon gas can out of the truck and poured half of it into the car.
“Why’d you run out of gas?”
“Ran out of money,” she said, like it was the most normal thing in the world.
Rick thought for a minute. “If I give you some money will you fill your gas tank?”
“Absolutely. But you don’t have to do that.”
“I can if I want to though, right?
“Of course, it’s a free country.”
Rick took two twenties and a ten from his wallet and handed it to her. “Don’t run out of gas on the freeway, it’s dangerous, a lot of unsavory characters out here.”
“Okay, thanks,” she held up the money, “that’s very kind of you.”
“Turn over your car and see if it starts.”
She turned the key and the car started right up. “Great, thanks again.” She looked at Rick, like she was trying to place him. “Do I know you from somewhere?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Well thank you, and thank you too,” she said to Gloria.
“Thank you,” said the boy from his car seat in the back.
Gloria looked in and smiled. “You’re welcome young man.”
The boy smiled, he and his mom said goodbye, drove up to the freeway and merged into traffic.
Rick held the door for Gloria as she climbed into the truck. It was impractical to do it every time but he liked to when he could and was glad Gloria appreciated it. Some women didn’t.
When Rick got settled in the driver’s seat Gloria asked him, “Did you know her?”
“Let me get up on the freeway and then I’ll tell you.”
“Alright.”
It took a minute and a half for a space to open up and for Rick to accelerate into it and another minute to get his speed up to the flow of traffic. When he did he said, “I talked to her last night when I was waiting for you to finish playing. She was a barker outside the strip club just up the street from the hotel.”
“A barker? What’s that?”
“It’s someone who stands outside an establishment, usually one with a live show, and tries to get people to come in.”
“So that’s her job? Trying to get guys into the strip club?”
“I think she’s a stripper. I got the feeling the girls rotate through the barker’s job.”
“Why do you think she was broke? I always thought strippers made a lot of money.”
“I don’t know. Maybe she’s an unlucky gambler. Maybe she has Champaign tastes. Maybe she has a boyfriend who drains her money away. Maybe she’s a drug addict.”
“I don’t think she’s a drug addict.”
“Why not?”
“She didn’t look or behave like one. She was alert, clear, her eyes stayed focused and she had no track marks on her arms.”
“Talk about alert – you always check people out like that?”
“No, but it happens sometimes when you’re a nurse. So did you go in?”
“What?”
“Did she talk you into the strip club?”
“No.” He looked over at Gloria and smiled, then back to the road. “I didn’t have time, I had to meet you.”
Gloria punched him in the arm.
“Ouch!”
After a minute Gloria said, “That was nice of you to give her gas money.”
“I felt sorry for her and the kid even though she’s probably broke due to her own financial mismanagement, blowing her money on things she shouldn’t.”
“The boy was cute wasn’t he?”
“He was.”
“What do you think are the chances she’ll spend the money on gas?”
“I don’t know, maybe 50/50. Or maybe she’ll put half in the tank and the other half on Cute Jerry to win in the fifth at Del Mar. Or she’ll give it to her drain-off boyfriend and he’ll put it on Cute Jerry or buy himself some nose candy.”
“Or maybe she doesn’t have a drain-off boyfriend or any of those problems and will buy some groceries and make a nice meal for her and her son.”
“There’s a happy scenario. I hope you’re right.”
After a moment Gloria asked, “Is Cute Jerry a real horse?”
“Not likely. I fabricated the name because I couldn’t think of any real horses except dead ones like Seabiscuit and Silky Sullivan.”
“It is a good name for a horse though. Cute Jerry.”
“Thanks.”
When they were back in their room Rick told Gloria the bad news. “I saw Selucci at Bellagio’s. He was scoping out the poker players one by one.”
“Oh my God,” said Gloria. She shook her head and slowly let out her breath. ”Did he see us?”
“I don’t think so. He was just about ready to look over your table when a woman came by and he walked off with her.”
“How do you think he knew were here?”
“No idea. Maybe it’s a coincidence. Maybe he decided to take a vacation.”
Gloria gave him a look. “What are the chances of that?”
“Slim to none.”
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“That what I think too.” Gloria reached into her purse and brought out a business card. “Let’s call this guy.”
“Who is he?” said Rick as he took the card.
“A guy I was talking to at the poker table.”
“Last night or today?”
“Today. He didn’t play long and when he left he gave me his card.”
Rick read from the card, “Daniel Jess, Security Consultant. What does that mean?”
Gloria rolled her eyes, “I guess it means he consults on security matters. I think I should call him and see if he can help us.”
“Yeah, sure.”
Gloria phoned and got a recorded message that Jess wasn’t there and would call back. She left her name and number and hung up.
Twenty minutes later Gloria’s phone rang and she picked it up. “Hello.”
“Hi, this is Daniel Jess, I’m returning a call from Gloria Hesslegrave.”
“This is Gloria. I talked to you earlier at poker game in the Bellagio.”
“Yes, I remember, nice to hear from you so soon. What can I do for you?”
Gloria told him the problems she and Rick had been having with Frank Selucci and explained that he was in Las Vegas, probably looking for them.
“So you’d like him to leave town?”
“Yes.”
“Alright, do you know where he’s staying?”
“Unfortunately, no. I do know he drives a blue Cadillac, about 4 or 5 years old. The license plate says COOLCAD.
“That helps. If all goes right we should be able to find him and have it taken care of by tonight.”
“Great, thank you. How much will it cost?”
“It depends on how much time we have to put into it but I imagine it won’t be too much.”
“Can you give me a ball park figure?”
“Sure, give me a minute.” Daniel added the costs and gave Gloria the total.
“I can live with that.”
“Good. I’ll call you when it’s over and let you know. Oh, it comes with a money back guarantee. If he doesn’t leave town, or if he leaves and comes back, there’s no change and we’ll try a second time for free. That never happens though.”
There was silence on the other end of the line so Daniel Jess said, “No harm will come to him, we just impress upon him that he needs to get out of town.”
As soon as he got off the phone Daniel dialed another number.
“Hello.”
“You want to work tonight?”
After the call Gloria and Rick napped, snacked, gave each other back rubs, watched TV and discussed where they wanted to eat dinner. At 4 pm Gloria’s cell rang. She talked for a few minutes and hung up.
“That was Fran. They’re running late and want to meet us outside the Peep Show at quarter to eight. If we can get down there they can give us a ride back.”
“Okay, we can take a cab. Where do you want to eat?”’
“You want to try a buffet?”
“Sure, if you help me ‘just say no’ after I’ve had two plates. Otherwise I might nod off with my hands on my stomach during the Peep Show.”
“Well, we don’t want that so, yeah, I’ll watch you.”
“Thanks. So where are the prize winning buffets?”
Gloria opened her HP Mini and hit a few keys. “It seems like Vegas is a buffet town, all the name hotels have them: MGM Grand, Bellagio, Treasure Island, Mandalay Bay, Cosmopolitan, The Mirage, Luxor, Rio, Monte Carlo and lots more if I want to keep looking. They’re all about $30 for dinner or, to be precise, $29.99. Oh, here’s one for $24.99, The Spice Market Buffet, located at Planet Hollywood.”
“That’s where the ‘Peep Show’s’ playing, right?”
“It is.”
“Two birds with one stone. Perfecto!”
“Should I make reservations?”
“Do they take reservations for a buffet?”
“Hum…probably not.”
”If we’re there at 6:30 we should have plenty of time, especially since the show’s in the same building.”
“It sounds good.”
Gloria started working her computer again.
“What are you doing?”
“Reading reviews on The Spice Market Buffet. You want to hear the highlights?”
“Sure.”
“Alright, this guy from Los Gatos says he heard Las Vegas has the best buffets in the world. He also grew up believing that buffets were good to steer clear of when looking for a restaurant. He says, ‘OMG, they had the widest variety I would have ever imagined and it was OUTSTANDING.’ He goes on about the food and desserts, recommends the buffet and suggests you forget your anti buffet upbringing, if it applies. He gives the Spice Market Buffet five stars, the highest possible rating.
“A woman from Lynwood said the place was a mess, the service terrible and the waitresses rude. She was there with a group and when a waitress come to get the drink orders one person ordered a Coke and another a Sprite and the waitress said they didn’t have it. So the woman asked what kind of sodas did they have and the waitress, who the woman calls ‘this hooker’ said, ‘honey we have lots of drinks so just hurry up and pick one.’ ‘WTF?! You don’t have the drinks posted anywhere! On top of that you JUST said you don’t have drinks they have at every restaurant and fast food place so how else will I know what you do and don’t have?’ She said the cashier was snappy and another waitress yelled at an employee in front of everyone.”
“Sounds like she didn’t like it huh?”
“Sounds like. She did say the food was alright but she gave them a one star. Okay, here’s a two star. ‘Basically crappy food,’ says a lady from Vista. ‘The crab legs were good but Rio’s seafood buffet has better ones. They had different types of food, Italian, Mexican, but it was no where near as authentic or tasty.’ As authentic and tasty as the Rio’s I guess she means.
“Alright, last one. Here’s a positive one from a guy in Tucson who sounds like he might be a professional restaurant reviewer. He gives it five stars. Talks about people who ‘hold up their hands and make circular motions’ when they talk about the buffet at the Rio but….”
“What does that mean, moving their hands in circular motions?”
“Sounds like its meant to be something positive, but what it means or why they do it, I have no idea. Anyway the reviewer goes on to say he likes the Spicy. Alright, one more, the last of the last, on the Spicy Market.
“This buffet trumps ALL the buffets I have visited on the Strip! AWESOME is all I have to say. Good food, good service, #1 Buffet in my book.”
Rick said, “It’ interesting how the reviews of the same buffet go from ‘AWESOME , #1 in my book’ and ‘OMG they had the widest variety I would have ever imagined and it was OUTSTANDING’ to ‘WTF, the place was a mess’ and ‘the food was basically crappy.’”
“Yeah, it’s kind of strange. I guess it’s one man’s awesome is another woman’s WTF. You still want to eat there?”
“Sure. Location, location, location. The Peep Show’s at Planet Hollywood so what better place to eat? What do you think?”
“Sounds fine to me, just don’t order Coke or Sprite.”
* * *
Chapter 12
