Page 13 of Bozo

"Ah, you must be Connor," a man with slicked-back gray hair says as I approach. "Craig's boy, right? We've been expecting you."

I force a smile, taking my seat. "That's right. Hope I didn't keep you gentlemen waiting."

"Not at all," another man chimes in, eyeing me. "Though we were surprised when Craig said he was sending his son in his place. You sure you're up for this, kid?"

I don't respond to the condescending tone. Instead, I pull out a stack of cash from the duffle bag and set it on the table. "I'm here to play, not chat," I say coolly, meeting each of their gazes in turn. "Shall we begin?"

The dealer, a young woman with a stern face, nods and begins to shuffle the cards with practiced ease. She deals us all two cards each. Once done, she holds the deck in her hand and stares ahead, waiting for the guy with the slicked-back gray hair to act.

I watch each of them for the first few hands, analyzing their play, learning their tells, and once I’ve settled into the game, I know that I’ve got these guys on the ropes. I’ll have the money Mam needs by the end of the night.

It doesn’t take long before I start raking in the money. It’s easy. These men are old school. They play their own way and don't like to change it up. It’s really easy to find out when theyhave a good hand and when they don’t. They’re shit at bluffing, which means I’m able to make a fuck ton of money.

"Lucky bastard," one player mutters under his breath as I rake in the biggest pot of the night. Almost six hundred thousand euro in one hand alone. I know that I’m close to a million for the evening.

I just smile, knowing it has nothing to do with luck. It's all about the numbers, the patterns, the tells. And I've been reading them all night.

"Last hand, gentlemen," the dealer announces and begins to deal the cards.

Once play comes around to me, I look down at my cards: a pair of kings. A strong hand but not unbeatable. I keep my face neutral as I glance around the table. The tension is palpable. Everyone knows this is their last chance to recoup their losses.

The first round of betting is conservative. No one wants to show their hand too early. I call, watching carefully as the flop is revealed: seven of hearts, jack of spades, three of clubs. Nothing that helps me, but nothing too threatening either. This flop is the perfect one for me, unless someone’s sitting with a pair in their hand.

The man to my left, a balding man in his late fifties, bets aggressively. The next two players push their cards away, folding, leaving me, Baldy Guy, and Slick Hair left in the game. I call Baldy Guy’s bet as my mind whirls with the possibilities that could happen when the turn is uncovered.

The turn card is revealed, showing the king of diamonds. I have three of a kind. It’s a great hand. There’s nothing right now that can beat me. Of course, that could change once the river hits. Baldy Guy bets again, even higher this time, causing Slick Hair to fold with a muttered curse. I reach for my chips, taking a few seconds to hesitate before raising his bet.

I can see the sweat beading on his forehead; the slight tremor in his hand as he reaches for his chips. He's bluffing. He’s the type of man who doesn’t like to lose, especially not to someone young. He's got nothing and he's trying to bully me out of the pot.

His eyes narrow on me as he re-raises me. I instantly call and watch as his eyes twitch at the move. He’s nervous. Good.

The river card is dealt: ace of hearts. It doesn't change anything for me, but I see the man's shoulders relax just a fraction. I now know that he has an ace in his hand, meaning he’s just paired the ace. He’ll think he’s got this in the bag.

Baldy Guy leans back in his chair, a smug smile playing at the corners of his mouth. He's confident now, thinking his pair of aces has saved him. He pushes a large stack of chips into the middle, his eyes challenging me.

"All in," he declares, his voice steady. Okay, so maybe he’s got a little more than just a pair. Glancing down at the cards on the table, I look over them. He’s got at best, two pairs.

The other players at the table lean forward, all of them eager to watch this play out. I can feel their eyes on me, waiting to see what I'll do. I take a deep breath, keeping my face impassive as I consider my options.

I know I have him beat. My three kings are stronger than his two pairs. But there's more at stake here than just this hand. I need to maximize my winnings, to ensure I have enough for Mam's treatment and to finally get the fuck away from Dad when the time comes.

I meet the man's gaze, letting a flicker of uncertainty cross my face. "That's a hefty bet," I say, my voice purposefully hesitant. I’ve sat at card tables since I was seven years old. I’ve played some of the best players in the world. I know what it takes to make people think I’m hesitant about the hand.

He grins, thinking he's got me on the ropes. "Too rich for your blood, kid?"

I pretend to wrestle with the decision, then slowly push my chips forward. "I call."

The man's grin widens as he flips over his cards, revealing the ace of spades to go with the ace on the board. "Two pairs, aces and jacks," he announces triumphantly.

I nod, keeping my expression neutral. "Nice hand," I say, then I slowly turn over my kings.

The man's triumphant grin falters, then crumbles entirely as he sees my cards.

"Three kings," I announce, watching as the realization of his defeat washes over him.

The table erupts in a cacophony of groans and low whistles.

"Three of a kind, kings. Pot goes to the young gentleman," the dealer announces as she pushes the chips toward me.

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