Joel leans in, his hot mouth hitting the shell of my ear. "Play like your life depends on it, sweetheart."
I elbow him away and pick up my champagne, taking a small sip. The bubbles burst against my tongue, crisp and cold. I slide into a chair and nod at the other players. Opposite me, the dealer stands in a pristine tuxedo and wavy blond hair tied back into a low, thin ponytail.
I glance around the table, taking in the other players. There are eight of us—six men and one other woman.
The woman stands out from the rest. She’s older, maybe in her early fifties, wearing a sleek navy dress with a pearl necklace resting just above the neckline. Her silver-streaked hair is cut into a blunt pixie style. She offers me a kind smile, but there’s a sharpness in her eyes that doesn’t quite match the warmth in her expression.
A distinguished-looking man sits diagonally from me, his long Roman nose and overly bleached teeth catching my attention. “Danvers,” he says with a nod. “Nice to meet you.”
Next to him, a man around my age with a thick Italian accent flicks a chip between his fingers and offers me a sly smile. “Ciao bella, sono Elio.” His gaze lingers a little too long on the curve of my breasts before he flashes a wink.
To my left sits a short, quiet man, his fingers gripping his drink a little too tightly. Sweat beads on his forehead, and hishands twitch as he stares into the glass, lost in his own thoughts. He doesn’t look like he wants to be here.
Something we have in common.
I study each face carefully, memorizing details, watching their movements. The man to my right leans back in his chair, cracking his knuckles, already at ease. He’s done this before. Beside him, another man glances at his watch twice in less than a minute, impatience flickering in his every movement.
Further down the table, a man takes a slow sip from a short glass of amber liquid, his other hand idly shuffling his chips to keep his fingers occupied. He’s a talkative one, his laughter loud and abrupt at something the Italian man says. They both glance at me as they talk.
The woman, Pearl Necklace, I decide to call her, adjusts her stack of chips, aligning them in neat rows. Organized, careful, controlled.
The man gripping his drink keeps his eyes down, his lips pressed into a tight line. He’s the only one at the table who looks like the buy-in was something he shouldn’t be gambling with.
The dealer clears his throat and fans out the cards. “Everyone ready?” he asks, pulling them back and shuffling. He tucks his elbows close, palms up, and deals.
Each player pulls their cards into their hands, flipping a corner to peek at their luck. I pick up my glass and sip the champagne before I look at mine. A nine and seven, both diamonds.
Restless Watch Checker chuckles and points in my direction. “I think this might be someone’s first time.”
I don’t react.
Vick and Joel are somewhere behind me, close enough that I can feel their presence without turning around. I wish I could just take the bag of money and run, but it’s already short thebuy-in amount, and God only knows what else he might have already spent from it.
The ace, seven, and king flop gives me a little something to work with. I check. Elio winks at me again and bets $5,000. Restless Watch Checker smiles, eyes narrowing slightly, and raises to $13,000. Everyone else folds.
“What’s your name, sweetheart?” Restless Watch Checker asks.
I match his stare, unblinking. “Lucky.”
Pearl Necklace lets out a quiet chuckle.
Restless Watch Checker tips his glass toward me. “Lucky, huh? Guess we’ll see.”
I only hit a low pair. I re-raise to $41,000. “What’s your name?” I ask politely. “I have you clocked as Restless Watch Checker.”
Restless Watch Checker studies me. He leans back, taps a finger against the edge of his chips, then folds. Smart. “Jarred.”
I take a sip of my champagne, set the glass down. The cards continue to heat up on a six of hearts turn. I fire out a bet of $58,000. Elio clicks back a raise to $175,000, but I don’t fold.
The four of hearts on the river doesn’t improve my hand, so I’m stuck with a low pair. I check. Elio announces an all-in bet of $235,000. His eyes are shifty. He doesn’t look confident. He keeps staring at my cleavage, licking his lips. I call.
And win.
“Neither of us had much,” he says. “It was, how you do say it? A game of chicken, yes?”
“Yes, it was,” I agree.
Pearl Necklace gives me a small, knowing smile.
