Chapter Three #2
Time stands still before I force myself to walk away before I say something I shouldn’t.
Though I slept most of the day, I need to get to bed at a decent time since I have to be up at two, and I’m still exhausted from the past four days of traveling.
Grabbing a small duffel bag, I put a few pairs of jeans and a few nice shirts inside.
All I want to do when I get to Vegas is hang out in the casino, let loose, and enjoy my days off.
Gambling is a fun way to pass the time and maybe win some money.
While I don’t have a problem walking away when I need to, I’ve lost quite a bit, but I’ve also won close to thirty grand in poker tournaments.
Winning first place was the moment I realized how lucrative a sport it is, and I’m good enough to beat some of the top players.
Tomorrow, there’s a game to qualify to play in the New Year’s Eve tournament, and it’s big money.
As soon as I got the invite, I booked a flight.
After I pack, I go to the gym to pass some time.
I work out hard, lifting heavy weights, then find a mat in the back corner and stretch.
A smile touches my lips when I think about kicking Maddie’s ass at yoga last month.
The shock on her face is something I’ll never forget, along with the satisfaction of her cooking for me.
Considering she’s competitive by nature, I knew she’d take the bait.
Hook, line, and sinker. Once I’m done, I take a shower, then stop to eat before heading home.
I drive the long way back to give myself more time to get my mind straight.
During the holidays, fugitives tend to let down their guard and show their faces.
I’ve tracked down more than my fair share over the past several weeks, and I can’t complain too much because it’s given me bigger paydays.
That, combined with it being my most hated time of the year, has left me in a shit mood.
Once I walk inside the house, I immediately follow the delicious scent into the kitchen where Maddie and Sophie are baking.
Christmas carols are playing from one of their phones, and they’re grinning ear to ear.
Just because I’m a scrooge doesn’t mean I want to ruin their time, so I put on a happy face to appease them.
“Whatcha up to?” I ask, snatching a sugar cookie from the cooling rack. It’s still warm when I take a bite.
“It’s Hallmark movie night!” Maddie cheerfully says. “And don’t you dare steal another cookie.”
I reach for another one, and she swats me away while Sophie scolds me. “I told Mason he couldn’t have one, and neither can you. The only way to get any of these cookies is to watch a movie with us. It was a hard no from him.”
“Seriously?” I ask, popping the rest of the warm gooey deliciousness in my mouth.
“He can’t handle it,” Maddie tells Sophie.
“Is that a bet?” I smirk.
She arches a brow. “Maybe it is.”
“What’re the stakes?” I ask as Sophie grabs her cup and a plate of cookies.
I follow them into the living room. Though Christmas is officially over, an outsider looking in would think it hasn’t even started yet.
The tree’s still lit, and the nativity scene and all the décor Sophie put up weeks ago are still on display.
They plop on the couch and turn on the Hallmark Channel.
“Two hours of watching the movie we want, and I’ll bake you a dozen cookies for yourself,” Maddie offers.
“And if I don’t make it?”
“Then you can’t go out of town tomorrow,” Maddie says.
“Damn,” Sophie says around a mouthful. “Not a bet I’d take.”
Maddie’s beaming, knowing she’s backed me into a corner. If I take the bet and lose, I’ll be forced to stay here, and if I object to it, she’ll hang it over my head forever. But if I survive one movie, I get delicious cookies and another win to gloat about.
“I want two dozen, twelve for every hour I have to sit here and be bored to death.”
I hold out my hand, ready to shake on the deal. She contemplates, narrowing her eyes. “Nah. You’re up to something.”
I chuckle, then shrug. “Guess you remember the lesson you learned last time.”
Sophie’s eyes go wide. “Last time? What’re you guys talking about?”
“Nothing,” Maddie says quickly.
Muting the TV, Sophie gives me her full attention. “Someone better spill it or I’m gonna kick some asses.”
I pretend to be annoyed, but happily tell Sophie what happened, and she’s almost as shocked as Maddie was.
“Are ya gonna show me some of these poses?” she asks, holding back her laughter.
“So you can use them in the bedroom?” I tease, and she glowers at me.
“I actually might kick your ass for that!” Sophie says, but all I can do is chuckle.
As soon as the couple who spent the entire movie in a fake relationship almost kiss for the tenth time, and Maddie and Sophie both let out awws in unison—when the kiss finally happens—I’m out, but at that point, it’s over.
When I stand, they start talking shit, but the credits run after, so I walk toward the staircase.
“If you would’ve shaken on it, you’d be baking me twenty-four cookies right now,” I tease Maddie.
She snorts. “But I didn’t have to waste a bet for you to watch it with us.”
I tell them good night, then go to my room. I fall asleep regardless of the excitement of flying out in the morning. When I wake up, the house is quiet, and because I’ve given myself some wiggle room, I make a cup of coffee and notice a Ziploc bag full of cookies with a note on the kitchen counter.
Just for you, Hulk.
See you next year.
—Mads
A smile touches my lips as I grab a pen and write a thank you with a smiley face on the paper. Sometimes she’s too damn sweet for her own good.
I take them, load my bag, then drive to the airport. The flight is quiet because it’s so early, and I surprisingly even get some sleep on the way there.
After we land, I pick up my rental car and make it to the Bellagio without any issues.
My room for the next two nights is fully comped because of the number of games I’ve played over the past year.
That’s the thing about casinos—if you sit there for hours, cashing in money for chips, they give you free shit to encourage you to come back and lose what you won.
Free rooms, massages, food and drinks galore, and sometimes they’ll offer you suites and Cuban cigars.
After I check in to my room, I grab food from the breakfast buffet and drink another cup of coffee. I finally feel awake and ready to play poker, even if it’s early. Vegas is a city that never sleeps—the booze, gambling, and parties last as long as you can handle it.
To warm up, I pull out a few hundred-dollar bills, exchange them for chips, then sit at a blackjack table.
There’s an older couple who smiles at me as I buy in.
Each hand is twenty bucks, and I play some rounds.
I win a few and lose others, and after an hour, I break even.
Taking my chips, I find my way to the poker room.
It’s elite and home to the World Poker Tour tournament.
I pay my fee for the two p.m. no-limit hold ’em game that’s hosted every day, then get on a waitlist for a low-stakes cash game. As I’m standing around, one of the guys who played in the Five Diamond tourney with me a few weeks ago makes his way toward me.
“Liam!” JJ shouts with a grin. “Didn’t know you’d be in town this weekend.
” JJ O’Leary has more money than he knows what to do with and always plays at the high-stakes tables.
He’s risky, makes bets when he shouldn’t, and tries to bluff his way through each hand.
Meanwhile, every move I make is calculated, and I take the game seriously.
The bottom line is never taking a bet I don’t think I’ll win.
“You playin’ at two?” he asks, combing his fingers through his blond hair.
“Yeah, already bought in. How ’bout you?”
“Yep, gonna win it today. I feel it in my bones, but now that you’re here, I’m not so sure,” he teases.
Laughter escapes me. “I’ll go easy on you, this time.”
My name is called for the low-stakes game I was waitlisted for, and the host escorts me to a table.
I sit in one of the swivel chairs, place my chips in front of me, and play for hours.
Some of these guys are idiots, and I run circles around them, bluffing my way through half of the hands.
Many are too scared to call me, so they fold almost instantly.
It’s easy money, and I leave with an extra thousand dollars’ worth of chips in my pocket.
After I cash them in and grab a bite to eat, I take a shot of whiskey, then make my way to the poker area.
Nearly every seat is taken in the crowded room as I’m handed my chips from the buy-in.
During a tournament game, everyone starts with the same amount, and only one person will survive.
I’ll be playing for hours and hopefully win more than I spent to enter.
Every thirty minutes, the tables are combined with those who are still in until only a handful of us are left.
Hours later, only three others besides me are left with large stacks of chips.
The dealer throws out cards, and the assholes I’m playing with keep raising the bid until JJ randomly decides to go all in.
He’s not the greatest player, and I know his tells more than he does.
One thing I’ve learned from my job is to watch people and identify their quirks and habits.
It’s my turn to make a decision, and I glance up at him, then back at the flush in my hand.
With a straight face, I call his bet. All the other players fold their cards, so we go head to head.
The dealer continues with the hand, and when JJ shows his pair, I hold back the urge to laugh.
When I flip over my cards, he stands, pushing his chair back and cursing.
He’s told to calm down, which he doesn’t like.
Before walking away, he shakes my hand, and then I continue because this is far from over.
It doesn’t take long before I’m calling bluffs and taking the other guys out.
I can’t stop grinning, knowing I just won ten grand in one day.
I’m exhausted from sitting and having to concentrate so much, but I’m happy as hell when I leave.
There’s nothing comparable to this, other than catching a fugitive I’ve been tracking for weeks.
After everyone congratulates me, I sign some paperwork and take my winnings.
I’m comped for dinner and extended hotel stays to encourage me to keep playing, but I need a mental break.
I put the cash in the safe of my room, then go back downstairs where I grab a drink at the bar. As soon as I order a beer, JJ comes and sits next to me.
“Good fuckin’ game,” he tells me, ordering us a round of bourbon.
“Thanks.” I take it, and he tells the bartender to keep them coming.
JJ stands when a guy with dark brown hair and a mustache walks by. “What the fuck is he doing here?”
They make eye contact, and I sense the tension in the room. The guy’s disgusted as they stare each other down, and for a split second, I wonder if a fight is going to break out. JJ cracks his knuckles before shooting his drink down, then slamming it on the table.
“I’ll fuckin’ kill you,” he says under his breath, and the guy keeps walking, glaring over his shoulder.
JJ sits, and he’s visibly upset.
“Everything okay?” I ask, but don’t want to pry.
“That’s Mickey DeFranco. He’s a piece of shit, comes from liars and thieves. Our families don’t get along and haven’t for decades.” He snarls as the hatred drips from his lips.
I take the shot sitting in front of me. “So you’re mortal enemies?”
A smile meets his lips. “Yeah, guess you could say that.” He nods, then inches closer. “So, I have a question for you.”
I’m happy for the change of subject. “What’s up?”
“You’re one of the best who frequents this place, and everyone knows it.”
I watch him, wondering where this conversation is going. I’m wary of his intentions but want to know what’s on his mind. “Well, I don’t know about that, but thanks.”
“Honest question. If you had more money to play with, do you think you could win more?”
A chuckle escapes me. “Well, that depends. Nothing’s guaranteed, and betting more doesn’t always mean winning more, but hypothetically, I think so. I could make larger bets or play in bigger tournaments but the entry fees are ridiculous and usually out of my price range.”
“Right, so you could join higher stakes games. Say you could afford fifty grand buy-ins. Winnings close to half a million. Would you do it?”
At first, I think he’s joking, but when I blink and study his serious expression, I realize he’s not. “I don’t have that kind of money. Even if I did, it’s a huge risk.”
“But would you take it if you had a partner to help pay the upfront expense?”
His question lingers as I finish my beer and set the empty glass down on the bar, realizing what he’s implying. “I don’t know. That’s a lot of money to gamble.”
“Well, think about it. I have the cash, and you’ve got the skills.
I think we could do a deal where we’d both profit and walk away happy.
” He grabs the bartender’s attention and orders more drinks.
I think about his proposition, then tell him I need more time to mull it over.
We shoot the shit as we continue to drink, then exchange numbers to stay in touch.
“Let me know. You could win a lot of money,” he says before turning and walking away.
Feeling buzzed, I go up to my room, fall on my bed, and try to get some sleep since I plan on doing it all over again tomorrow.
Winning twenty thousand dollars this weekend is feasible since I’m already halfway there.
But having the opportunity to win hundreds of thousands isn’t something I could ever afford.
Meanwhile, JJ is handing me a golden ticket, a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to play with the big dogs and walk away with cash that’d take me years to make.
Though it’s a risk, I fall asleep thinking how stupid it’d be not to take this opportunity.