Double Blind (11 page)

Louis, unfortunately, noted Kevin’s bold move too, and paused. But to Randy’s relief, he met the raise.

Randy checked his cards again, tapped the rail absently with his fingers, then re-raised. Betty matched him, but she watched him carefully. Kevin frowned and matched him, watching too, and Louis glared at him as he met the raise.

The flop came down: A
q
9
r
8
w
.

Randy paused, covering his surprise by rubbing his nose as if to ward off an itch. He’d gone from jack shit to 8, 9, 10, and a pair as a spare. Huh. Well, his hand was unlikely to get better. Still, when it was his turn to act, he didn’t raise as he’d planned, just called and left the raise to Kevin, who of course did.

“Didn’t get what you wanted?” Betty asked him, nudging him playfully with her elbow. Randy shrugged, gave her a small smile, and watched to see how Louis played. Randy crowed silently as Louis, with a smug smile, re-raised.

Louis, Randy was sure, had Big Slick. And now he had what he hoped was top pair with a nuts kicker. He wasn’t even considering that Kevin could have triple aces, because this was his game, he’d decided, and he was due a win. He’d almost gotten his head on straight when Kevin had acted so boldly, but the fact that Kevin looked like somebody who should be cowering under him on his showroom floor helped Louis convince himself that this wasn’t possible. Now, with the ace on the board, he was happily sailing to what, in Louis’s mind, was certain victory. And this time he wasn’t even going to let Randy stand in his way. In fact, it was going to give him great pleasure to beat the slimy little faggot asshole.

Randy wasn’t sure of the
exact
wording of Louis’s thoughts, but he was confident he had them pretty close.

And so Randy played to them, feigning a hesitation that any pro would have seen through right away but this packet of live ones didn’t even know how to unpack. This unfortunately drew Betty out a bit more than he’d have liked, but she’d confided to him after her second daiquiri that she was “filthy rich,” and so he didn’t feel too badly about her part in his game. At any rate, she had a pair, but it wasn’t high, and she was smarter than Louis and suspected something was up. She folded on the turn.

Which was, of all things, a jack of hearts.

Randy didn’t have to feign his discomfort this time, but it wasn’t for the reason his opponents were thinking. He was trying to decide how the hell he’d gone from bluffing his way through garbage to one card away from a straight. He didn’t have to bluff anymore, either. He could have mumbled “fuck me” under his breath and remained invisible as far as Louis and Kevin were concerned. Their game had taken on a life of its own, and they didn’t even need Randy to egg them on. And of all things, Kevin was leading the show.

“You can’t beat me, not this time,” he said to Louis, his face flushed red with his victory. “I’m going to win!” He laughed, sounding almost hysterical. “I really am! That whole pot!”

“Go ahead and think that,” Louis said, so slimy and condescending that even Martha looked ready to kick him. He tossed a re-raise down and leaned back, smug as hell.

It was this more than anything else that prompted Randy to re-raise him right back, egging it on until it went one more go around. Finally, the pissing contest ended, and the dealer laid the river: 7
e
.

Randy had a goddamned straight.

He watched Louis raise, and Randy re-raised him in a sort of daze. Kevin boldly re-raised again. The pot was huge for a five dollar game: three hundred dollars, a good chunk of that money being Randy’s own. The betting came around again, pushing the pot now toward four hundred.

Randy looked at his hand, at his stack, and at the other two gentlemen's piles of chips. Louis only had one hundred fifty dollars left, but it hardly mattered because Kevin, full of dizzy glory, was shoving his remaining chips forward, because in his idiocy Randy had accidentally over-raised him.

“I’m all-in,” Kevin said, whispering. He was shaking with anticipation.

Louis matched Randy’s re-raise. Then he sat back and got ready to gloat as he started to turn over his cards.

Quick as lightning, Randy shoved his own cards forward into the muck. “I fold,” he said, then sat back, heart pounding.

“You can’t fold when we’ve all called!” Louis roared, angry at being denied the full glory of shaming Randy. He turned over his cards, which as promised were ace and king, both diamonds. “Dealer, I demand to see his cards!”

“They were nothing,” Randy said, his voice sharp partly from panic at being found out, partly from trying not to throw up over throwing a
fucking straight
into the muck on the river. “2 and 10 offsuit, okay? It was embarrassing. I didn’t want to have to admit what a bad bluff it was.”

Louis was glaring at him, clearly suspecting something, and Randy was ready to pull out the 10 and whatever card was next to it so long as it wasn’t another goddamned 9, but Kevin saved him by laying down his treasured aces and whispering, “I won.”

Everyone turned to him, Louis too. “What?” the salesman roared.

“I
won
!” Kevin said again, a little louder this time, and then he laughed, and wheezed a little, then fumbled in his pocket and withdrew an inhaler. After he got his air back, he slapped his hand on the rail and hooted. “Oh my God, I
won
! I’ve
never
won! And I
won
! I
love
Vegas!”

They all cheered him, and Randy gave him a chagrined smile, ducking his head to hide his real delight when Louis swore, picked up his remaining, paltry chips, and left the table. But Randy’s joy was short-lived, because the next thing he knew, Ethan had grabbed his arm and hauled him up from his chair. Randy followed, bewildered, as he was led out of the room, down the hall, and around a corner into the shadows, where Ethan backed him up against the wall and glared at him.

“You had a straight,” Ethan said tightly. “I thought at first I must have been wrong, until you said you had a 2. You didn’t. You had a 9 and 10, and you had a straight. Which beats three-of-a-kind.” He hesitated. “Right?”

Randy shushed him then glanced back up the hall to make sure Louis hadn’t been around to hear. “Keep it down, Slick! Yes, I did have a straight, and yes, it does beat three-of-a-kind.” He sighed. “Look. All I wanted was to clean out Louis, and if you must know, I wanted it to go to Kevin. I had no idea I’d pull a goddamned straight out of my ass.”

“You could have cleaned Louis out by winning, but you threw the game. Why?”

Randy pursed his lips, then looked away as he shrugged. “I can win anytime. Kevin’s going to go back to Burbank and tell everybody in his cubicle how he won at the Golden Nugget. Sometimes the pot isn’t the money.”

This confession made Randy feel awkward, and that irritated him. He was trying to come up with something scathing to say so the conversation would turn around again when Ethan asked, in an odd voice, “What time is it?”

Randy pulled his phone out of his pocket and peeked at the time. “11:40.” He lifted an eyebrow at Ethan. “Why?”

“This,” Ethan said, and grabbed Randy’s face before pressing his mouth—hard—down on Randy’s own.

All thoughts of thrown straights fled as the sharp taste of Ethan filled his mouth, and several brain cells melted as well as Ethan drew on Randy’s bottom lip before stealing deep inside. He could no more stop the groan that rumbled in the back of his throat than he could keep his hands from sliding around from the anchor they’d made of Ethan’s hips to the fine slope of his ass. He drew in a long, deep breath of the exotic perfume of Ethan, then thrust his tongue back against the one claiming him, giving as good as he got.

When they finally pulled apart, resting their foreheads together, both of them were gasping.

“Jesus Christ, Slick,” Randy whispered. “Please tell me we’re fucking later.”

“That depends.” Ethan ran his fingers weakly down Randy’s chest as he paused for more air. “You were going to throw our bet, weren’t you?”

Randy shrugged. “Already had the pot I was after. Figured I could get a cheaper kiss out of you after midnight.” He tightened his hands on Ethan’s ass. “But you were right. This was better.”

Ethan grabbed his chin, not exactly gently. He tipped Randy’s face up and looked him in the eye.

“Don’t do it again.” There was a tightness around Ethan’s eyes, and no small amount of pain. “Don’t tell me we’re playing for one thing and then play for something else without telling me ever again. I’ll fuck you in bed, but not if you’re fucking with my head out of it.”

Randy wanted to argue that he hadn’t been fucking with him, that he was just too caught up in enjoying Ethan’s company to try and play the siren, but then he got a good look at Ethan’s eyes.
Jesus fuck, but that guy did a real number on you, didn’t he?

Randy held up his hands. “Was never what I meant, Slick. But I swear—I won’t. Straight up with you from now on.”

The pained edge eased in Ethan’s gray eyes, and after a beat, he gave a reluctant smile and touched Randy’s face, making Randy’s cock swell happily in his jeans.

“Maybe not
completely
straight,” Ethan said.

Oh Jesus,
Randy thought, more blood rushing south as he read the heat in Ethan’s expression. He fished in his pocket and pulled out a hundred dollar chip.

“I can’t afford another thousand-dollar kiss unless I get to an ATM,” he said, “but I’m curious to see what this will buy me.”

He thought Ethan was going to balk, but the next thing Randy knew, there was a long, slender hand cupping his balls and a hot mouth closing, feather light and open-mouthed, over his own. It was over almost as quickly as it started, and Randy was damn glad he was pressed against the wall as Ethan pulled back, because otherwise he’d have fallen over.

Ethan took the chip from Randy and ran it lightly down the bridge of Randy’s nose. “I want to go play poker,” he said, in the same tone another man would use to say, “I want to fuck you.”

“Then let’s go play poker,” Randy said, a little hoarsely. He stayed against the wall as Ethan stepped back. He smiled, then watched Ethan head back toward the poker room. When Randy thought he could walk straight or at least come close enough to count, he pushed off the wall and headed back too.

Mandy took one look at him and lifted her eyebrows into her hairline. “And here I thought I was going to have to warn your boy that you can be a little hard to handle.”

Randy tried to laugh, but he didn’t do very well. “Oh no,” he said. “He doesn’t need any warnings.” He ran a hand through his hair.

“Need a drink?” Mandy asked, laughing.

“Several,” Randy agreed.

“I’ll send Carol over with a Dirty Whiskey for you,” Mandy said, and patted his arm. “On the house.”

Randy nodded, then drifted over to the table, where Ethan had already seated himself in Louis’s empty chair. He’d also changed in his video poker winnings and his bribe and kiss tokens for a modest pile of ten, five and dollar chips. He smiled when Randy sat beside him, and Randy smiled back, settling in as comfortably as he could with his dick screaming in his pants.