Page 49 of Betting Blind
I elbow him lightly. “There’s only three of you who signed up. Let’s just hope the other two aren’t clowns.”
* * *
My palms sweat profusely from where Jules and I stand in front of the stage-bar hybrid. The sun has set, and bright lights flood the area, creating a theatrical atmosphere outside. The breeze is a welcome warm caress against my skin, and I close my eyes, taking a deep breath as I beg for luck to be with Jack tonight.
The crowd gathered around us is loud and boisterous, chanting randomly as we wait. Yard-long slushie cups are in almost every hand, and I seriously wish I had taken a couple of shots to calm my frayed nerves before heading out here.
“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen!” A male voice comes over a loudspeaker, making me jump. The man I saw earlier carrying the box of juggling clubs climbs a set of stairs leading up to the long metal bartop, then turns to address the crowd.
He wears ridiculous red-and-white striped pants with a matching red tank top, and his handlebar mustache twitches as he adjusts the mic that’s clipped to the center of his shirt. I stand between Jules and Derrick, nervously picking at my nails as the man pumps up the crowd.
“We have a very special event for you all tonight!” The man I overheard as Lenny reaches down to the bartender working the show, and she hands him a bright blue club that resembles a stretched-out bowling pin. “We have three lucky gentlemen joining us tonight who will be competing for our grand prize of”—he pauses for effect—“Fifty. Thousand. Dollars!” The crowd goes insane, and part of the beer Derrick is holding spills down my leg as he’s shoved forward.
“Each contestant will duo-juggle with me, your honorable host, and proceed onto the freestyle round. If the contestant cannot pass the duo stage, he will forfeit.” The crowd boos loudly.
“Let’s introduce the men of the hour. First up, we have Caleb from Chicago!” Caleb steps up on stage, swinging his clasped hands back and forth beside his face before flexing for us. Rudy from Illinois walks up the steps, dancing once he reaches the stage, showing us a rather mediocre rendition of the “water sprinkler.” Juliana rolls her eyes beside me.
Finally, he introduces Jack, who woos the crowd with a sexy half-smile. He’s changed into an all-black tank that does little to hide the stretches of ink covering his arms, neck, and chest. I hear a few girls behind me holler, and I flex my hands, resisting the urge to throw the rest of Derrick’s beer on them.
Jack and Caleb step to the side as the announcer and Rudy get ready for their duo-juggle. Music thumps from the speakers around us, and the bartender hands our host a box of juggling clubs. “Here we go!” he shouts, and he and Rudy fall into a relaxed rhythm, tossing the long objects back and forth with ease.
I’m mesmerized by their fluidity as my eyes follow the flying objects left and right. Rudy never breaks eye contact with his opponent, confidently catching each club until the host calls time and stops their game. Not even slightly out of breath, he turns. “Let’s have it for Rudy!” Loud roaring sounds, and Caleb quickly takes Rudy’s place.
Like before, the music begins, and they fall into an easy cadence—except Caleb isn’t quite as lucky. He almost makes it through the whole round, but when he accidentally overreaches for the green club, he misses it, and loud boos sound from the crowd.
“Now, now,” Lenny shushes the audience. “It’s not that you’re no good, Caleb. Things just got out of…hand!” He laughs loudly with the crowd as Caleb exits stage left.
Jack’s up next, but instead of flirting with the crowd as the others did, he wears a mask of strict focus. A hush blankets the mass of people standing beneath him. There’s no smile on his face or laughter in his eyes as he takes his position in front of Lenny. No, Jack has more on the line than these guys, and he’s here to win.
“Alright, big fella, you ready?” The host raises his brows, and Jack gives him a single curt nod. “Okay! Here we go.”
Jack takes everything this guy gives him and dishes it right back. They furiously toss the objects back and forth between each other and at one point, Jack dares to look away, searching the crowd. The audience gasps, and I blush when he settles his gaze on me, giving me a wink. They erupt with cheers, thinking it’s all for them.
I turn to Derrick. “How did he learn how to do that?”
“He taught himself several years ago. Once he figured out that he could get more people to come into the bar with his shows, it was easy for him to keep practicing.”
The host finally stops the show by catching the clubs, and he turns to bow to his fans. Jack remains impassively moody, and the people are eating it up, chanting his name.
Lenny jumps down, guiding Jack to one side of the bar and Rudy to the other. He hands them each a shot of liquor with a scheming smile, and I can’t help but think that he’s trying to throw them off their game.
When he goes to hand them another, Rudy gladly obliges, but Jack denies the temptation. “Well,thatwas certainly impressive, gentlemen.” His voice carries over the speaker. “Now it’s time for the real fun to begin! You each have ten minutes to prove to these lovely people what you’re made of. The crowd pleaser is the one who will be taking home the dough. If you both fail to charm the crowd, no grand prize will be awarded. Let’s get started!”
Rudy is up first. I’m a bit intimidated by his carefree attitude and crowd-pleasing smile, but it’s the sweat that begins to gather around his hairline that tips me off. He’s either nervous or those shots are starting to have the intended effect.
He begins his routine with a simple two-club toss in front of him. Rudy easily catches the third club that Lenny throws up to him and walks his way across the bartop toward Jack. Spinning the objects in the opposite direction from which they began, he coaxes more cheers from the crowd.
Jules leans over to me. “Damn, he’s good.” I nod my head, loathe to agree.
Rudy is barely a foot away from Jack, mocking him by sticking his tongue out at the crowd. Jack glowers at the back of Rudy’s head. I have no doubt he wants to snatch one of the brightly colored objects away to beat the man senseless, but he refrains, allowing Rudy his moment to show off.
Rudy lifts his left leg, tossing one of the clubs underneath it, then back up into the circle he’s shuffling them around in. To finish his routine, he steps back to his original space, spins around, and catches the clubs while gracefully kneeling on the bartop. This is a move I’ve seen Jack do before, so I’m left less than impressed, but I grow uneasy as everyone applauds him.
Everything we’re here for is riding on this moment, and I wring my hands to the point of pain. Lenny boasts to the audience what an excellent job Jack’s opponent has done, and my eyes follow the man as he steps down from the bar.
Come on, Jack. You can do this.
With a sly smile, Jack spreads his arms wide before the crowd and they lose their ever-loving minds. This time, he does gift them a wink before kneeling to speak to the pretty bartender.
