Chapter 17 #2
And then comes the real trick. The moment you place your money on the table, convinced you’ve got it figured out, the sleight of hand happens.
A flick of the wrist, a twitch of a finger, and the queen is no longer where she’s supposed to be.
Even if you know what to watch for, you can’t win.
They condition you, then crush you, and they know the Dunning-Kruger effect will do the rest. That little voice in your head telling you you’re smarter than the hustler? That’s how they get you.
“Who’s next? Who thinks they can find the queen?
” the dealer calls out confidently. A few tourists step forward, money in hand, but I hang back, watching his ploy.
I can see his arrogance. He’s been pulling this same tired con for years, and no one’s ever called him on it.
But I see it, the flick of his wrist when he switches the queen.
His movements are fast but not perfect. The way his hand hovers a fraction longer over the switched card gives him away.
The tourists don’t notice, too focused on the chaos of the shuffle. One man steps forward with a grin and places a crisp hundred-dollar bill on the queen. The operator’s grin widens like a snake sensing prey.
“Bad move,” I mutter under my breath.
When the volunteering tourist loses, as he inevitably does, I step forward, a big smile playing on my lips. “Can I try, please?”
He looks me up and down, his grin widening. “Sure thing, sweetheart. Think your eyes are as good as they are pretty?”
I shrug, pulling out a small bill and placing it on the table. “I guess we’ll see.”
He starts shuffling the cards again, the queen moving between the two others, his hands a practiced dance, and the cards little more than flashes of white, black, and red.
I watch carefully and notice where he does the swap, but I choose wrong on purpose.
I need to figure out where he keeps his deck of cards and how the fuck I’m going to get the ace of hearts from him.
I assume Mr. Unknown doesn’t want me to simply ask him for it.
But I can’t fan the guy while he’s sitting like that, and there’s a table between us, so I’ll have to figure it out by only watching him.
The con artist flips the card, showing it’s one of the decoys, and the crowd chuckles. I laugh it off, pulling out another bill and placing it on the first on the table. “One more try?” I pout, and he obliges, shuffling the cards again.
I lose two more times, all the while pretending to be flustered. The dealer takes my money easily, flashing that cocky grin of his as he keeps up his smooth banter with the crowd.
My focus is on his jacket, and when he turns, I mark the silhouette of the deck on the inside pocket.
Gotcha.
Now to get close enough to take it without him realizing.
Before I can settle on a plan, he grabs my money from the table and pockets it with a flourish. “All right folks, show’s over!” he calls out with a satisfied grin. The crowd thins, some of the tourists dispersing with disappointment written on their faces.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
“No,” I protest. “I want to try again!”
He pauses, turning back to me, clearly amused. “I’ll be back tomorrow if you want to give it another go.” He shakes his head, but there’s a greedy glint in his eye that tells me he likes an easy mark.
He reaches into his jacket, pulling out the deck, and I watch as he disperses the three cards we were using with the others. As he starts to shuffle, I catch the red flash of the ace of hearts within the cards.
Here goes nothing.
“I need my money back.”
There are still some tourists hanging around, and a few of them chuckle, but he only laughs at me dismissively.
“You shouldn’t bet money you need, pretty girl.
” He cuts the deck, making another dramatic shuffle, the cards flying from one hand to the other.
The crowd oohs and aahs in admiration. He’s purely showboating now, his ego inflated by their attention and my desperation.
I pull out a hundred-dollar bill and slam it on the table in front of him. “If I can do what you just did, I want my fifteen dollars back,” I declare. “If I can’t, you get the hundred too.”
He looks taken aback for a second but then smirks at me, and I can almost feel the crowd leaning in closer to hear his response.
“You think you can do that, huh?” He snorts, then places my crumpled fifteen dollars from my earlier perceived failures on top of the hundred.
“All right. Let’s see what you’ve got.” He hands me the deck, shaking his head as if he knows how this is going to go.
I haven’t played with cards for eight years now, but after spending six months with Ace, I could do what he did in my sleep.
I take the cards, my fingers fumbling deliberately as I arrange them.
Let’s hope I still have it.
The tourists titter, and I pretend to blush, even hunching my shoulders as if embarrassed. The dealer grins as he leans backward, completely unaware that I’m maneuvering the ace of hearts to the back of the stack. Once it’s there, I take a breath, letting my clumsiness vanish.
I flick my wrist, and the cards fly seamlessly from one hand to the other.
Hah!
The crowd gasps, and when they do, I quickly slip the ace of hearts out of the deck, palming it so that no one notices.
Flicking my gaze up, I see the moment the grifter’s grin morphs into a look of surprise as I follow up with another trick.
I spread the cards between my hands, creating a cascading wave as they move fluidly from one palm to the other.
Then I finish with a clean one-handed cut, flipping the top card into the air and catching it effortlessly before fanning the entire deck out in a perfect arc.
I can almost hear Ace praise me, and it pierces my heart.
“That’s my girl.”
Yet, I soak in the phantom words and let a smile form on my lips as the crowd starts to clap, some cheering, and the dealer’s jaw drops. I keep my smile easy, innocent, like I don’t know the weight of what I’ve done.
Handing his deck back casually, I nod. “That was fun, thanks.” Then I reach over and scoop up my winnings.
He seems stunned, his mouth opening and closing as he tries to find words, but I don’t stick around to hear them. I slip back through the crowd, my money in hand and the ace of hearts tucked securely in my back pocket.
Once I’m out of sight, I pull out my phone and snap a picture of the ace, sending it to the unknown number.
Was that a friend of yours? Because if you think he was good, I have to disappoint you.
A moment later, my phone vibrates with his answer.
Unknown Number
Let’s keep this going.
Is he for real? That was fucking hard.
I can’t with this guy.
Of course, because a ‘well done’ would kill you.
You know Richard Belmont?
Everybody knows him. Richard Belmont is the owner of the Belmont Plaza, one of the biggest five-star hotels on the Strip. He’s famously horny and apparently an asshole.
Who doesn’t?
I want his phone number. Let’s see if you can charm your way into getting it.
Seriously? I don’t think you’re his type.
Let’s hope you are.
He’s married.
Sounds like a you problem.
I shake my head, an exasperated smile playing on my lips.
This guy’s audacity, the pushing, it’s infuriating but also thrilling.
It reminds me of the dares Ace and I used to give each other back in Phoenix, sneaking into places we didn’t belong just because we could, enjoying the pure thrill of it.
This feels like that, a spark of the person I was back then.
My heart tightens as his voice echoes in my head once more.
“C’mon, Trouble, what’s the point of living if you’re not gonna have some fun?”
He’d say it, that cocky grin on his face, his eyes daring me to follow him into whatever reckless idea he had.
And I would have followed him everywhere.
The Strip fades away replaced by a memory.
Ace holds up a card between his fingers, the seven of spades, grinning at me with that lopsided smirk of his.
We’re crouched on the roof of a small house, far above the bustling crowd.
The lights of Phoenix are spread out beneath us, the muted sounds of traffic and chatter drifting up like a distant echo.
“Ready to see some real magic, Trouble?”
“Real magic?” I raise an eyebrow, trying to hide my smile. “You mean like making doves appear out of thin air?”
“Nah, I leave that to the amateurs. This is the good stuff.” Ace snaps his fingers, and in an instant, the seven of spades becomes an ace of hearts. It happens so fast that I barely catch it. One second, the card is there, and the next, it’s an entirely different one.
“How the hell did you do that?” I ask incredulously, laughing as I grab his hand to try and figure out the trick. But he pulls away, his grin widening and becoming impossibly more lopsided.
“It’s called the snap change,” he says, holding the ace just out of my reach. “You gotta be quick, Trouble.”
I shake my head, pretending to pout. “Show-off.”
“C’mon, I bet you could learn it. You’re good with your hands, after all.” He throws me a wink, and I roll my eyes in return, knocking my shoulder against his.
We both look down at the crowd bustling below us on the street. The lights from a nearby food truck cast a glow, illuminating faces as people pass in front of it.
“See that guy?” Ace nods toward a guy standing on his own by the truck. “What do you think he’s up to?”
“I dunno…” I squint, trying to figure it out. “He looks kinda… nervous?”
“Exactly. Look at his hands.”
The guy’s hands are in his pockets, but I can see the way his fingers twitch, moving restlessly even though they’re hidden.
“When people are nervous, their hands usually give them away,” Ace confides. “They fidget, they touch their face or their neck. It’s like they’re trying to comfort themselves without even realizing it.”
“Okay, so he’s nervous. Why?”
“Could be a lot of things. Look at where he’s standing. He’s not in line, but he’s close to it. Like he’s thinking about getting food but can’t quite make himself do it. Maybe he’s waiting for someone. Or maybe he’s indecisive.”
I glance back down at the guy, noticing his eyes flick toward the food truck, then away again. I have no idea what that’s supposed to tell me.
“Reading people is all about noticing the little things,” Ace says softly, almost as if he’s sharing a secret.
“The way they move, where they look, how they hold themselves. Confidence is in the shoulders. When someone’s sure of themselves, they stand tall.
When someone’s nervous, they shrink down, make themselves smaller.
It’s all right there if you know where to look.
” I scratch my leg, taking it all in. In a way, it makes sense.
“People are always giving themselves away whether they know it or not.”
“I’d love to read people like you can.” I sigh, making Ace chuckle.
“You’re already good at it, you know.” His ice-blue eyes meet mine. “You need to trust yourself more. Trust what you see.”
I look back at the crowd, watching the guy by the food truck. Ace is right. His shoulders are hunched, his gaze uncertain. He’s waiting for something or someone.
“He’s waiting for someone he’s in love with.”
“How can you tell?” I ask, not taking my eyes away from the stranger.
“See the way he keeps looking around but not moving? His hands aren’t nervous. They’re restless, like he can’t wait. And his shoulders, they’re tense, but there’s hope there. Like he’s bracing for something or someone.”
The guy’s fidgeting intensifies then, and I notice his eyes keep darting around as if scanning for a familiar face.
“When you’re waiting for someone you love, everything in you is focused on finally seeing them again.
You’re restless, and your heart races, but it’s all anticipation.
Because when they finally show up, you know it’ll change everything.
You can’t contain that kind of excitement. ”
My heart squeezes as I glance at Ace, wondering how much of this he’s speaking from experience. Before I can respond, Ace sighs, almost like he’s relieved. “There she is.”
I follow his gaze as a woman steps into the glow of the food truck.
When her eyes land on the guy, his whole body shifts, his shoulders relax, his hands come out of his pockets, and a smile forms on his lips.
She walks toward him, and the moment they meet, you can see the quiet, unmistakable connection between them.
Ace leans back, a satisfied look on his face. “Told you.”
I shake my head in wonder, still watching the couple as they greet each other, the nervous energy between them melting away the longer they speak. “Okay, that was impressive.”
“You’ll get the hang of it. Just gotta trust what you see. Two seconds. That’s all it takes to read someone. To see what they’re hiding.”
I glance at him with a smile. “Two seconds, huh?”
“Two seconds, Trouble.” His eyes sparkle as he regards me. “And a little bit of magic.” He holds up the ace of hearts again, and with a snap, the card changes once more, back to the seven of spades.
Then he leans in, kissing me silly.