For the next twenty minutes, the hands blurred into a rhythm of numbers, odds, and calculations. I lost a few hands but kept winning and strategically adjusting my bets based on the cards that had already been played. My stacks of chips kept growing and now included hundred-dollar chips. My confidence was beginning to grow, as I felt there was a pattern to the game I could understand. Which, in my experience, was usually the first stage of disaster.
All that changed when the dealer pulled out the remaining cards in the shoe from which they were dealt and began to reshuffle them. Suddenly, I’d lost the advantage of knowing what cards were left based on what had been played. At this point, the cowboy swore and left the table, grabbing what few chips he had.
Gray leaned over and said in a low voice, “Are you counting cards?”
I turned away from the dealer and adjusted my hoodie. “It’s not exactly counting. It’s…strategic observation,” I whispered. “I have an eidetic memory, so that helps.”
“You know that counting cards is considered almost impossible when there is more than one deck,” Gray whispered. “Too many items to keep track of and too many possibilities.”
Surprised, I replied, “It’s not really all that hard. You just have to organize your memory better.”
Basia grinned, rubbing her baby bump. “Our lovable genius.”
“Which is exactly why we’re going to get escorted out by casino security,” Gray muttered, tipping her head toward a guy in a suit lurking near the bar, watching us with a frown on his face. “You’ve caught the attention of the pit boss.”
“What’s a pit boss?” I asked, suddenly wondering if that meant I was going to be buried in a pit sometime soon.
“It’s a guy who makes sure players aren’t cheating.”
“I’m not cheating,” I protested.
“You know that, and I know that, but he doesn’t. They don’t like people who win too much.”
“That’s crazy,” I said. “I thought that’s why people came to casinos.”
“To lose money, not to win it,” Gray said. “Don’t worry. Just keep doing what you’re doing, Lexi, and we’ll be fine.”
Chapter Four
Lexi
I hoped Gray was right, so I turned around and kept playing. And winning.
I endured a small losing streak when I stopped concentrating on the cards and started calculating my odds of my winning as many hands as I had against the house. I slowly increased my bets as we got farther into the cards, where I was better able to calculate when the odds were in my favor based upon the cards that had been played. Despite having only a small edge over the dealer, I kept on winning. I realized that even with perfect strategy, I was deliriously lucky.
The girls, however, weren’t buying the luck story. They were convinced I was the blackjack savant. They laughed, cheered, and pretended like we were obnoxiously fortunate, all to try to hide what they thought was my calculating genius. Gwen kept ordering daiquiris, Basia showed off her baby bump to distract the dealer, and I kept quietly winning.
After some time, the pit boss disappeared. Minutes later, our middle-aged dealer was replaced with another guy with a head of dark curly hair and a name tag that read Bento. He collected the cards and reshuffled them and loaded the shoe again. Bento didn’t smile when he dealt the next hand.
I was cautious with the new dealer and the reshuffled cards and pushed the distractions out of my head and focused on the game. Surprisingly, during my hot run, no one joined our table. It made me wonder if there was a gambler’s superstition about avoiding blackjack tables with a hot player. Still, my big stack of chips and the noise of the girls had attracted a small group of curious onlookers. There was an audible “Ooh” when I made a large bet after determining that with the cards left, I had very favorable odds.
“I’m sorry, madam, but the table limit is one thousand dollars.”
“What does that mean?” I asked.
“It means that’s the maximum bet you can make on any one hand.”
“Okay, sorry.” I pulled some chips until I had exactly one thousand on the table.
“Are you sure you want to bet that much, Lexi?” Basia asked with a hint of concern.
“Don’t worry, Basia,” Gray laughed. “Lexi knows what she’s doing.”
Their conversation brought me back to the reality that I was wagering real money…and a lot of it. Playing with chips, I had lost the sense of cautiousness with money that I usually exhibited. Suddenly, I wasn’t as sure of my bet as I had been. I reached to retrieve my bet, but it was too late. The dealer had already flipped up a card in front of me. It was a ten. Seconds later he flipped me another ten. Twenty. Almost a sure win. My mind raced, trying to calculate the possibilities of losing.
“Do you want to split the tens?” The dealer interrupted my concentration.
“What?”
