Page 13 of Smoke

“Of course. Nothing’s changed. We operate our business as usual. And maybe even get a little intel in the process. One of these idiots has got to know who’s been fucking with our trucks.” Hawk lights up a cigarette while snatching a hot pink mug from the cupboard. I chuckle when I read the side of it: This whiskey might be coffee. He fills half of it with water from the sink and then taps his cigarette over it.

“You know we brought ash trays, right?” I cross my arms, amused at how fucking petty he’s being.

He flicks another chunk of ash into the cup, snickering. “Oh, did we? I must’ve forgot.”

I’m almost giddy. “Man, she’s gonna fucking pop a blood vessel in her head.”

It’s a quarter past midnight and still no sign of Cherry. I see Hawk glancing between his phone and the front door a million times a minute too. If she doesn’t get home soon, he’s gonna send one of us out after her. I can feel it in my bones.

For now, I post up at the Five Card Draw table in the guest room. Roscoe just cleaned out the other three players and is getting ready to reap his wild card round reward. I hang back to make sure no one gets out of line.

Darla shuffles the deck and cuts it. She taps the top with her pointy hot pink fingernail. “Pull till you hit one of the wilds. A joker gets you a peek, a king gets you a kiss, and an ace gives you permission to touch.”

Roscoe’s forehead beads with sweat, his eyes glazing with lust and drunkenness. “Come on aces,” he pleads as he starts turning over the cards. Each one sends another chorus of oohs and aahs through the room. Even the losers kind of win because they get to watch.

He slows down as he nears the end of the deck. “Fuck, I’m shaking.” He laughs.

The other three look just as excited as he is, their cheeks red, eyes bloodshot. Hawk sets another round of drinks down. “Make sure you give Darla a good fucking tip, aye,” he growls.

They nod and murmur something that sounds like a yes in unison. Roscoe gasps as he turns over the next card and spots the ace. Lucky son of a bitch.

Darla downs a shot of tequila before transferring herself onto his lap. She sits facing the rest of us and leans back against his fat belly. She spreads her legs and holds her panties to the side. “Have at it.”

I think he might have a heart attack. He clumsily grabs onto her nipples and squeezes. “Oh, yeah.” Darla almost looks bored. She barely makes a sound when he plunges two of his thick fingers inside her cunt. Well, almost. She finally arches when he hits something that tickles her, and lets out a throaty moan.

“Double or nothing,” I offer before he can get too worked up.

They both freeze.

I smirk over the toothpick hanging out of my mouth. “Flip another card. If it’s wild again, you get to keep the house’s cut too. Oh, and Darla will let you stick your chubby fucking cock inside her for a few minutes. Isn’t that right?” She knows the drill. More money for her either way.

She nods and takes another shot of tequila.

Roscoe leans forward, excited, his hand already making a path for the deck of cards.

“But. If it’s not a wild card… you get nothing. No money. No Darla. Nothing.”

The other players gasp. “Don’t do it, bro,” one of them mumbles.” I shoot him a glare and make a mental note. This one might be our sacrificial lamb later.

“I-I don’t know.” He snatches his hand back and fixates on the deck. He’s trying to count the cards that are left.

“You’ve gone through most of the deck, Roscoe. The odds of one of those being a wild card are high as fuck. I’d do it.” I would never gamble with the likes of us.

The other two are shaking their heads, mouthing no. I might have to kill all three of them later.

Darla arches her back and starts to grind against his palm, his fingers still deep inside her. “Come on baby. You wanna fuck me, don’t you?”

We give this offer to every table. But we rig two of them. Gotta have at least one get it right or else they’d never play to the end. It inspires the others when they get to see it actually happen. Makes them even more tempted to keep going.

And we make it a game for us as well. We let the Diva Dealers rig it so we can enjoy the surprise too. Plus, it makes it more believable that we ain’t in on it.

“Just say the words and flip the card, Roscoe. The power is in your hands.” I give a subtle nod to Darla who starts moaning and whimpering.

Roscoe curses under his breath. “Fuck, that’s a lot of money too… Fuck it. All or nothing.”

That’s right you will. I fucking love degenerate gamblers. “Good boy, Roscoe. Now go on. Flip it over.”

With the hand he doesn’t have lodged inside Darla’s pussy, he reaches for the deck, his fingers shaking. This moment will either make him the happiest man alive, or send him to an early grave. Because with the amount of money on the line, he will for sure put a bullet in his own head if he loses.