The Big Blind (Nadia Wolf) (3 page)

“Can we get . . .” The woman stared at me, lost in her drunken fog.

“Married?” I tried to fill in the blank.

“Oh, yeah. That’s it.” She smiled as her eyes crossed.

I shrugged. At least she could speak.

Lenny handed me their marriage license. “There aren’t too many couples right now.” He scratched his mustache. His rounded belly stretched his tuxedo t-shirt to its maximum elastic capabilities. “I’ll take the bus for a spin and see who I can round up.”

Frankie hired Lenny to drive customers between the chapel and the Marriage Bureau to obtain their marriage license. He sometimes picks up stray couples who are inebriated and open to exploring the benefits of marriage. The Bureau’s late hours allow the chapel to remain open and hopping with love. Since he’s paid on commission, I wonder about his “round-ups”.

“Only pick up couples who want to get married,” I warned.

“The love bus picks up all those who want a ride. Did you see the neon lights I added? The girls are lovin’ it!” He smirked and rubbed his hands together like a tubby praying mantis.

The “love bus”, as Lenny likes to refer to it, is a retired school bus painted white with a mural of busty celebrities on the side. Lenny has been slowly making modifications to the interior to lure his next paycheck onto the bus and down the aisle.

“I’m heading back to the Bureau. I need to get there before those damn fairytale yahoos do.” Lenny fluttered his hands like little wings and rolled his eyes. “Oh, look at me! I’m a fairy and will take you to Fairytale Chapel.”

“Yes, but their Prince Charming is rather nice to look at. They keep him in those snug tights,” I said. “I bet they get business from women following him to the chapel in hopes of marrying him.”

Lenny gave a sound of disgruntled disgust and stomped out the door.

Smiling at Lenny’s exit, I turned to help the couple.

I filled in the form with their personal information and then had them sign it. The woman signed with enormous loops, laughing as the loops carried off the page and on to the counter. I don’t judge signatures; I just go with the flow . . . even if it’s loopy.

I showed them to the chapel and switched on
The Rainbow Connection
for them to stroll arm-in-arm down the aisle . . . well, almost arm-in-arm. The woman stumbled and fell, but she hooked her arm around the man’s leg and he unknowingly dragged her the rest of the way down the aisle. Oversized lily pads trailed behind her until the couple came to a halt at the altar. Frankie tossed a casual glance down to see if the woman was still conscious. She smiled up at him and giggled but otherwise remained sprawled on the ground to repeat her vows.

I suppressed a snicker when Frankie began the ceremony. “Kermit thee Frog here . . . ”

Frankie stayed in character the whole time. He always impresses me with how many celebrities he can impersonate. Sometimes, I wonder, with all his different impersonations day after day, does he sometimes forget who he is?

The man dropped to the floor to kiss the woman as Frankie pronounced them husband and wife. The man only held the kiss for a moment until he toppled over. I switched the music back on, flipped on the bubble machine, and snapped a picture of them.

The couple was passed out on the ground with a giant Kermit looming over them. Vivian and Bernie clapped for the newly married couple.
Can it get any more romantic?

Chapter 2

I woke with a jolt and severe chest pains.
I can’t breathe!
I tried to suck in air, but all I could do was wheeze. Swinging my arms frantically to free myself, I came in contact with a large ball of fur and saw two angry blue eyes glaring down at me.

“Gus, get the hell off me,” I wheezed.

He gave a low growl as I rolled him off. He never suffocates me unless he has a problem, then he starts throwing his weight around.

I turned on my side to ignore Gus and fall back asleep. He let out a grunt, waddled over, and plopped his butt on my head.

“Ugh! Get your cat butt off me.” I swatted him off. “What Gus? Is it the diet?”

I rolled out of bed with a groan and shuffled to the kitchen to pour a ration for his breakfast. He glowered at me as he scrutinized his dismal portion but settled down to eat it.

I wanted to slip back into my warm bed. I still had a few hours before I had to return to the tournament. Though, I should try to arrive a little early to play a few practice rounds. I knew Roy would be there too.

I dressed in shorts and a tank top for the scorching Las Vegas heat and grabbed a hoodie for the air-conditioned casino. Comfortable clothes were going to be the fashion-of-the-day and the remaining days of the tournament.
If I get past today
. My stomach flip flopped.

“I knew you’d be here,” I said to Roy when I found him at a Texas Hold’em table.

“You need to sit down and practice.”

“Okay, but don’t give me advice. You make me crazy with your poker psychology.”

“You have to learn the psychology behind poker.”

“I know, but I start doubting myself and then second guessing what the other players are thinking.”

“You’ll get it,” he said with a pat on my back as I settled next to him. “It takes some people a lifetime to learn it and there are others who instinctively know.”

“I think sometimes when I’m in the moment I know. Then I start thinking, and it all falls apart.”

“Nadia?”

“Yes?” I glimpsed a blonde adult version of Shirley Temple hovering next to me.

She set a drink down. “Greyson Miller wanted me to deliver this. He wanted to tell you good luck today, but he’s in a meeting right now so he can’t come in person. Don’t worry; it’s a virgin, so there isn’t any alcohol in it. He wanted to make sure you stay sharp.”

“Thanks,” I said, eyeing the drink suspiciously. “How did he know I was here?”

“He knows every thing. It can be a nuisance some times,” she replied.

“Thank you,” I said and turned back to the table. After a few moments, I still felt her presence. My eyes flicked up to her.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Am I disturbing you?”

“A little,” I said, trying not to offend her but also needing to concentrate. “Did you need something?”

“I was just wondering if poker is easy?”

“Some days yes and some days no. What’s your name?”

“I’m Mya.”

“Are you interested in the game?”

“Yes, but my boyfriend told me I should stick to slots.”

Roy let a half cocked smile escape. He’s heard me gripe about men who think poker is for men only. He’s seen me twist myself into a snit when they throw chauvinistic comments at me. He just shakes his head and gives me the lecture how seasoned poker players don’t allow their emotions to explode to the surface. They keep it buried deep inside and beat the crap out of a punching bag when they go home. Last Christmas he bought me a standup punching bag. He can’t say I’ve never used it; where else would I hang my clothes?

“When do you have off?” I asked Mya.

“I have off tomorrow.”

“Meet me here at the same time. I’ll give you a lesson.”

Mya’s blue eyes lit up. “Really?”

“Sure.”

She thanked me and bounced away. Her blonde ringlets curled and bounced with her. All male eyes followed her direction.

“Remember to mind your emotions,” Roy said when he returned his gaze back to the table.

“Don’t lecture me, Yoda. I didn’t get mad, but I won’t sit back and do nothing either.”

“So,” Roy said, sliding a sideward glance at me, “what’s with the drink from Greyson Miller?”

“I, uh, met him a few days ago in the lounge. He was meeting with someone.”

“How did you meet him if he was in a meeting?”

I kept quiet and tinkered with a few chips in front of me.

“Nadia, what did you do?”

“Nothing.”

“Don’t give me that crap. You did something, and it was probably highly embarrassing.”

“I might have spilled a drink, but it wasn’t my fault.”

“Mmm-hmm. How was it not your fault?” His mouth twitched suppressing the smile I never fail to produce.

“There was a guy talking trash; my drink might have slipped.”

“Greyson Miller was talking trash? I don’t believe you. And that’s a waste of alcohol.”

“I didn’t say Greyson Miller was talking trash. My drink slipped the wrong way and missed the jerk. Greyson caught the full brunt of it. I didn’t even know who he was until employees zoomed in to help clean.”

Roy peeled with laughter. “I don’t know how anyone could be as accident prone as you are.”

“I’m not.” It’s only on rare and extremely embarrassing moments that I’m accident prone.

“You spilled a drink on the casino CEO.”

A flash of nausea surged through me. “The CEO?”

Roy held his gut while he chuckled. “You didn’t know?”

I shook my head. “I’m surprised they didn’t kick me out.”

“He’s the CEO of Rotunda Casinos Empire. He could buy half of Las Vegas with his money. He’s been on the covers of Forbes, Time, and Money magazine. He’s not a business man you would want to go up against. I heard he’s best in the business and a ball buster if you have to tangle with him.”

I winced. “I flicked off the ice cubes from his hair and suit.”

Roy clutched his side. “Oh, ow! It hurts to laugh.” But he didn’t stop.

I took my seat at the tournament table. There were two empty seats and I prayed for them to be filled by strangers and not Caleb. My nerves were shot after learning who I spilled my drink on. I never fail to give Roy a jolly laugh at my expense.

I had heard of Greyson Miller, but I never connected he was the head of Rotunda which operated the Lost City Casino plus a dozen more casinos which were spread throughout Nevada. From what Roy told me, Greyson Miller was known as a hard business man, and though he was only thirty-five, his business accomplishments were the talk of many in the business.

The Lost City Casino, by far, was my favorite. I love walking into a lost ruin that feels as if it’s under water. Watching the colorful fish darting around in the glass walls and ceilings was a treasure in itself. Archeological artifacts sprinkled throughout the casino landscape. Toppled pillars cascaded creating a sweeping staircase.

I might never come back after knowing who I splashed my drink on.

“You’re thinking about something unpleasant.”

I looked up to find Caleb. He slid out the chair next to me and settled in. His t-shirt clung snuggly around his solid chest and arms. His well worn jeans hugged every essential part. I groaned. How can I keep my head in the game and sit next to him? Even though he’s my enemy at the table, I had to admit he was sexy as hell.

His wavy brown hair always appeared as if it needed to be cut. It’s in a constant state of gentle windblown with natural sun bleached caramel highlights. If he was plopped onto a beach, he could pass as a surfer. I heated as I surveyed his tan skin and firm arms. His thigh rubbed against mine as he made himself comfortable.

Damn him!
How can I concentrate on winning when he’s so close to me?

“Why are we at the same table again?” I asked. “They normally mix it up.”

Caleb shrugged.

“Are you trying to mess with my head?”

“I don’t have to. You do it to yourself.”

“Don’t worry. As soon as the cards are on the table, I’ll be back to normal.”

“I’m not worried. I’ll knock you out of the game eventually.” Caleb sat back studying me. His eyes darkened, but his face remained impassive. “Maybe not until the final table.”

It would take a miracle to reach the final table. There were twelve hundred people who entered the tournament and a little over eight hundred remained.

“Breathe,” he instructed. “You look as if you’re going to hyperventilate. I don’t know how you made it this far.”

I scowled as I scanned the room to find the tournament director. Maybe if I sweet talk the director he might move me to a different table.

“Don’t bother,” Caleb said, reading my mind. “The tables are already full. You’re stuck with me.”

“Go sit in the chair on the other side of the table.”

“Do I make you nervous?”

“No, but that doesn’t mean I want to sit next to you.”

“I’m going to sit here. Otherwise, I’ll have to stare at you for the rest of the game.”

I bristled. “Would you rather stare at the man with the top hat and pork chop sideburns?”

Caleb observed the man across the table and smiled. “Not really. But it’s better than looking at your green eyes.”

“Do you have a problem with green eyes or just my green eyes?”

“Just yours.”

I glared at him and hunkered down as the dealer took his seat. My heart lodged in my throat while the first hand was dealt. The dealer flicked me two cards. I held my breath as I peeked at them: a pair of kings. I remained calm and unaffected, but internally I was jumping on the table dancing a jig. Pocket kings were hopefully going to push me through my short stack dilemma.