Page 36 of Crow

Her smile wobbles a little, but not enough that if I wasn’t watching, I wouldn’t have caught it. “He looks like he can take care of the both of you.”

I let her continue on, placing drinks around the table. Crow doesn’t order anything. He’s completely dialed in.

Half an hour later, his chip stack has doubled.

An hour later, he’s at least tripled that.

I don’t really know how it happened, but I’ve also had a few more drinks. She’s not just my table’s waitress, but the same brunette keeps the drinks coming without me even asking, taking away my old glass as soon as I’m done.

The warm swimming sensation isn’t entirely unpleasant. I nurse the drinks, not wanting to down them too fast. I know that I’m getting drunk and honestly? I don’t really want to stop. It’s not like I’m trying to escape anything through drinking. I just enjoy the way the tensions ease off.

I cut myself off after the fifth drink, shaking my head when I catch the waitress eyeing my glass. She smiles and nods. I would have thought I’d be seeing double by now, but I just feel like my brain is thicker, swimming around in a foreign substance. I can see the cards just fine. I can concentrate. I just keep folding, over and over. I don’t have the courage to bet, even when I have decent cards.

When I get two aces, I close my eyes, breathing rapidly. I can’t foldthat, but the thought of bidding makes me feel slightly ill.

Thankfully, when I push a stack of chips onto the table, everyone else folds. They’ve realized by now that the only time when I’m going to get involved is when I have something stellar, and they want no part in it.

I gratefully rake in the tiny little pot, content to sit for the rest of the time, thankful that I don’t get anything else dealt to me that’s too good to throw away.

I try not to watch Crow too closely. I don’t want it to be obvious that we’re not just here as casual players. Besides, if it appears that I don’t know what I’m doing, maybe it will come off like he’s just amateur hour too.

We keep going, even though I’m sure it’s been an hour and a half.

Things get exciting when Crow pushes a large bet after the flop. Three other guys match him. This is probably exactly what he wants. Something that will involve everyone. Hopefully, in the end, he’ll have something better than they all do.

I hold my breath as the bets get larger and larger. I think the guy on the end with the big nose is trying to push the others out. I don’t think he actually has anything. He knows he’s beat, but he’s too far into it to quit. The other two have that determined expression that says they’re not bluffing.

And Crow? It’s impossible to read him. He stares straight forward, but his pose is about as non-threatening as someone like him can be.

If someone who looked like he does, sat down anywhere in Hart, people would be immediately alert. But In Vegas? There are all sorts of different looking people here. Crow doesn’t seem that out of place.

All of a sudden, cards are being turned up. As I thought, the guy on the end has nothing. He pushes back from the table, gathering up the few chips that he has left, but still smiling. He even cops one last look at my chest before he turns and heads out.

The two guys in the middle are next. One has a pair of aces, which makes three of a kind. The third guy snorts in disgust as he throws down his pair of tens. He had three of a kind too, but the three aces beats that. There’s an ace, a ten, two twos, and a king on the table. Unless Crow has a full house, I’m not sure how he could win. Wait. Maybe a jack and a queen. Would that beat three of a kind?

This is exactly why alcohol shouldn’t be mixed in. I can’t even think straight. It’s probably also because I’m such a beginner at this.

I hold my breath. Crow calmly lays down a pair of twos.

Holy shit! Oh. My. God. He has four of a kind?

It blows my mind that he had the courage to bet big like that with just that pair, but I guess part of the flop was a two and that gave him three of a kind, but there were higher cards on the table. He stuck with it and saw it through to the end.

I have no idea how much money he’s won, but the amount of chips that he gathers up, added to his already massive stack, is gigantic.

He gets up to leave and I stand up too.

“Sir,” the dealer—a middle aged man says, freezing Crow. He waits but doesn’t remove his sunglasses.

I break out in a clammy, nauseating sweat.

“We pay a bonus for four of a kind. If you just hold on, someone will be here shortly.”

Crow sinks back into his chair. I do the same, my head reeling. I had no idea. Maybe he did or maybe he didn’t. Maybe this is new. Has he been here before? He seems ridiculously good at this. He had a calculated strategy, like it certainly wasn’t his first rodeo. I know so little about him, but when two people meet, isn’t that how it usually is? Isn’t the fun in getting to fill in all those blanks?

Either way, it’s a little late for the stranger danger meter to go off.

The guys at the table want Crow to stay and play more, but he makes his excuses, telling them it’s time for dinner. He plays it off like he just sat down and got lucky. He thanks them for the good game and for the fun, and tells them he might be back tomorrow night for another round. Everyone at the table is a good sport, even the two men he beat. I admire that, as well as his cool, easy attitude.

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