The Big Blind (Nadia Wolf) (7 page)

“Come sit down by me, sugar,” Gloria said to Mya. “You don’t want to sit too close to the others. They’re like piranhas. They’ll feed off the weak if you’re within biting distance.”

“I don’t bite,” I said as I placed myself between Caleb and Roy.

Caleb leaned over to me and whispered, “That’s too bad.”

I rolled my eyes. “Can we get started?”

The dealer took his seat. I swiped chips from Caleb’s stack and gave them to Mya. She would lose them to him anyways.

An amused expression surfaced on his face. “You know you’re becoming awfully familiar by stealing my chips. People might think I’m settling down.”

“No one would think that,” I said. “How many girls have you been seen with this month alone?”

He smirked.

Gloria instructed Mya on the rules of the game and gave her a cheat sheet to play by. I should ask Gloria for a copy . . . it might help my game.

We played a few rounds without Mya so she could watch and get a feel for the game. Each player explained what they were doing and why. It was useful since I learned information on Caleb’s thought process.

He’s aggressive towards the beginning of the hand when he doesn’t have solid cards. It tends to force a person to fold a tepid hand, so his chances of winning are better. It’s an effective playing style, but you have to have the courage and bankroll to make those moves. You could waste a lot of chips if you don’t continue to keep up your aggressiveness. One show of weakness or bad cards and it’s all over.

I smirked. I might actually be able to tread through this tournament and win the wager. I observed Caleb as he was smiling at Mya. He was watching her as she bounced up and down in her seat because she had all red cards.

“Mya, you need to have the same suit not just all red,” I said.

“Oh, pooh!” Her bottom lip protruded slightly. “You mean I didn’t win?”

“Not this hand but try again.”

“Let her win the next hand,” I whispered to Roy and Caleb.

A happy bouncy Mya was enough to handle. I didn’t want to see a sad and upset Mya.

“Sure, it’s fun to watch her win,” Caleb said. Roy nodded in agreement.

I rolled my eyes.
Men!

Mya won the next hand with a pair of twos. She jumped up and gave everyone a kiss. “I can’t believe I won a hand. This is so much fun. I’m going to tell my boyfriend that he’s a stupid head and I can play poker.”

Caleb nudged me. “Is this why we’re here? To take revenge on stupid head?”

“I told you it was a moment of weakness. Just look how happy she is. And now she has the confidence to call her boyfriend a stupid head, which I’m sure he is.”

“I’m sure,” Caleb said. “Are you going to take me up on the wager?”

Roy’s ears perked up when he heard the word wager. It’s one of his favorite words.

“What wager? Can I get in it? What are the odds?” He asked.

Gloria shot him a warning glance. “Big daddy, remember what we talked about. You aren’t allowed to bet on any more wagers until you pay me back.”

He winced as though he was stabbed with a dull knife.

“You wouldn’t have liked the wager,” Caleb reassured him.

“Come on we need to get going.” Gloria blew a goodbye kiss to me and yanked Roy from his seat.

“I need to get to work too,” Mya said. “One of the girls called in sick. I had so much fun. Can we do this again?”

I nodded. She bubbled and bounced like a super ball out of the room.

“She’s got personality,” Caleb said.

I narrowed my eyes at him.

He stuck his hands up in the air. “I’m just saying she’s a sweet girl.”

“Uh-huh.” I turned to the dealer. “Anthony, give us one more hand. All in.”

Caleb pushed his chips in. “What’s this about?”

“If you win, I’ll go along with the wager. If I win, I won’t.”

Since we were both all in, the dealer faced the cards up. I had a queen and ten, and Caleb had a pair of fives. I watched as Anthony dealt the flop and scrutinized the three cards. It was a nine, jack, and five. The nine and jack could help me win with a straight. Caleb scored a three-of-a-kind. If the dealer threw down a king or eight, I could still win. I sat on my shaking hands.

“Do you want to back out?” Caleb asked. He was enjoying watching me squirm.

“Bite me.”

“I intend to.”

Anthony laid down the next card called “the turn”. It was a three which didn’t help either of us. My head buzzed with nerves. Anthony placed his fingers on the card stack preparing to flip the next one called “the river”.

It’s the river that always seems to make or break the hand. Many players with rubbish cards have
sucked out
on players with a solid winning hand on the river. A seasoned poker player knows to hold off on any excitement about winning the hand until the river is on the table. I hoped this was my time to suck out on Caleb. Anthony placed the card on the table . . . a nine.

Caleb grinned. “Damn, I made a full house. I win.” He leaned close to me. “I always win.”

Chapter 5

Caleb parked me at my assigned tournament table. My heart pounded in my ears. I had to survive the tournament at least until Caleb was knocked out. I made a wager with Caleb; a wager with a notorious bad-ass no-ties bachelor that wanted me for a weekend. A weekend of what? I already knew. My knees softened.

Caleb chuckled. “Your face bleached out. Are you thinking of our weekend together? Like I said, I always win. However, I’d hate for you not to make it past the bubble. Slap your poker face on and fantasize about the rest later.”

He playfully tugged my hair and strode to his seat which was four tables away. He positioned himself at a chair facing me. He’s right. I had to focus so I could play my best. There was ten grand on the line; my ten grand. I had to make it past the bubble.

No one wanted to be the bubble. I had to outlive three hundred people in order to make it to the beginning of the cash award payouts. The bubble is the person who finishes in the spot right before the cash awards are paid. It’s a bitter end to the tournament. I’ve only been the bubble once. It’s not an experience I want to relive. Fortunately, I only lost five hundred on that tournament. Everyone loves the bubble . . . except the unfortunate bubble.

The dealers took their seats and were instructed to begin. My focus snapped to attention. My mind shuffled its priorities, and I was back in business. My ten thousand was priority number one; my virtue was around there somewhere.

Caleb’s eyes were on me. I didn’t dare look him. Instead, I glowered down the table at a bald man with gold chains and a gold front tooth. He made a move for the pot by spilling chips in. He’s going down; they were all going down.

I played aggressively taking stabs at the pot. Then, for a few hands, I played tight by playing only winning cards. I switched back and forth until I knocked out three players. My chip stack doubled and then tripled. I was in good shape to crawl my way to the final table. The weight was lifting off my shoulders.

After a couple hours, the tournament director consolidated the tables to keep each table full. I was now one table away from Caleb and could hear him talking.

He liked to chitchat with the other players. It kept their guard down. Not everyone fell for it, but even if it eliminated a few players he was closer to the final table. I tried not to listen, but his smooth voice sent full body shivers rampaging through my body.

“What are you doing this weekend?” Caleb asked a player with a backwards baseball cap.

“I’m going to spend it in style with my winnings.”

“Doesn’t that mean you have to win first?”

“Yeah, but there are only a hundred spots before we start getting paid.”

“True. I would hate to be the bubble,” Caleb said. “Players tend to tighten up right before. It’s a real pain. I always try to stir up a little action at the table when it plateaus.”

“Yeah, man.”

I smiled in spite of myself. Caleb was trying to coerce the guy to play aggressively. Nothing wrong with that, but playing aggressively against tight players can end badly if the tight player calls his bluff. A tight player makes a move if they have exceptionally strong cards. Cards that win.

“Caleb, what are you doing this weekend?” A man with dreadlocks asked. “I always see you with hot women. They seem to line up for you, man. What’s your secret?”

“My Porsche 911. They love it. My money doesn’t hurt either.”

I nodded. It was probably true.

“You gonna find yourself a hot number after the tournament?” The dreadlock man asked.

“I already have one lined up.”

My back straightened. The guys at the table laughed as men tend to do when there’s a conspiracy for getting lucky.

“Personally, I prefer one that will give me a little hell before I tame her,” said a man in a cowboy hat and dark eyes. “I heard she’s a tough one to crack.”

The back of my neck prickled with the sensation of leering eyes. I leaned back and shot a warning glance at my neighboring table. My poker face was in full force even though I wanted to crawl under the table. No one could keep eye contact with me when I set my mind to a stare down.

I practiced my poker stare when I was fourteen and mastered it when I was eighteen. One-by-one, the men’s gazes turned back to their hand. Caleb was the last to look away. He gave me a wink.

“See what I mean?” The man in the cowboy hat said. “She could give a man hell, but they would still come back for more.”

Caleb chuckled.

After a few hours, the players were consolidated again. I installed myself at my new table. Caleb positioned himself at the opposite end of the table.

“I thought you didn’t like to sit opposite of me.”

“This time it’s different. Yesterday, I was trying to keep you in the game. Today,” he grinned, “I have to win.”

“So, you think it’s your talents alone determining whether I win or lose this tournament?”

“Yes.”

I couldn’t think of a witty reply. We’ve already been playing for eight hours. My back hurt, my butt hurt, and even my brain hurt. There was no way I was going to give up, not now. There’s no telling how long we’d have to play tonight. We keep playing until the final six players move on to the final table.

I peeked at my cards. My face was stone, but my insides groaned. I’d been dealt crap cards for the last twenty hands. If I didn’t get a miracle hand soon, I was going to have to play aggressive and bluff my way through.

After another ten hands, it didn’t happen. Good cards weren’t coming my way. I had to make my own luck. I contemplated my queen-four off suit. I didn’t have a choice. I threw chips into the pot. A man with hoop earrings called, and Caleb shoved his chips all in. I folded. This happened again . . . and again.

I was in dire need of chips. I peeked at my cards suppressing a grin at my pair of kings. I shoved in all my chips. Caleb called. I wasn’t a threat to him. He had a deep stack of chips heaped high . . . the king of poker.

The camera crew arrived as we both flipped over our cards. He had a seven-two off suit. In the poker world a seven-two was the worst possible hand a player could start with. There are mathematical odds calculating it as the worst hand. My mouth swung wide open. Poker face be damned; I was floored. What the hell was he thinking? The players stopped mindlessly shuffling their chips and a murmur spread.

The dealer turned over three club cards on the flop. Caleb already had a club in his hand. One more club and he’d win with a flush. My mind rewound to the times I witnessed him win horrible hands with his crazy luck. Not today . . .
please, not today
. My nails dug into my palm as the dealer turned over an ace of clubs. Caleb made a flush. I was drawing dead. There weren’t any cards that could come on the river to save me.

Son of a bitch! .
. . I lost. My tournament was finished and so was my savings.

The players erupted with a roar of amazement. Caleb did it again. He was known for plays that shouldn’t win. For him they do.

The tournament director spoke into a microphone for the announcement. “Congratulations, you’re all past the bubble. From this point on, you will all receive part of the prize pool.”

The blood drained out of me.
No, no, no!
I was the freaking bubble? I was one spot away from money. My ten thousand dollar buy-in was gone because of Caleb and his freaking seven-two.

I stood though my gooey knees protested and mumbled an obligatory congratulations. I stalked out of the tournament room in confusion. He said something to me. I couldn’t hear him . . . I didn’t want to hear him. Curses were exploding in my head.

I found my way out of the casino and drew in a deep calming breath. It wasn’t working. Every time I sucked in oxygen the flames in my head grew bigger.

Someone brushed up next to me. I glared over my shoulder to see who it was and flinched.

“Hello, darlin’. Can I buy you a drink?” The man with the cowboy hat asked.