Page 31 of Bullet

The night after the strip club, Dead Man, Kojack, and I found out about a private poker game with big money on the table, so we decided to check it out. Our club game was great, but it was more fun to win money from strangers than each other.

The host was a local city councilman. We had some dirt on him, so we basically had him in our back pocket whenever we needed something, and that came in handy with some of the illegal shit we did.

I wanted to be the first to arrive so that I could scope out the other players when they came in, so we arrived about an hour early.

He answered the door, and by the look on his face, he wasn't happy to see us. “Hello, Ford.”

“Johnny boy, how are you?” I greeted as I entered. “I was hurt that you didn't invite me. You know I love to play poker.”

“Please call me John,” he corrected, forcing a fake smile. “I'm sorry. I just figured this wasn't your scene, especially since you have your own game.”

I clapped him on the shoulder, picking up on his hidden insult. We weren't good enough for his game. “Well, I'd much rather take your money than my brothers' money.”

Dead Man and Kojack followed me in, chuckling.

Our host shut the door, then led us to the poker room. “Please make yourselves comfortable. The other players should arrive soon.”

Before he left the room, I asked, “Is there another table?”

The irritation was clear in his strained face. “Yes, we should have two full tables tonight.”

I grinned. “Perfect.”

He left the room, and I took in my surroundings. He had a designer custom poker table, plush leather chairs, and a 50-inch flat screen on every wall. It was obvious the guy had money from the expensive, gaudy decor and high-end furniture.

As we waited for the other players to arrive, my brothers and I made small talk about our pretentious host. He was as stuck up as they came.

“Think he'll let me smoke in here?” I joked. The place was so clean that you could eat off the marble floor.

Kojack chuckled. “He'd probably bust that vein in his forehead.”

A waitress dressed in skimpy lingerie came in, smiling flirtatiously. “Hi. Would you like something to drink or eat? We have a full bar and a caterer. Filet, potatoes gratin, and asparagus.”

The guys and I looked at each other before I responded, “Hell yeah, sweetheart. I'll take a plate and a Maker's.”

Dead Man and Kojack both ordered, too and the waitress left.

“You're slacking, Bullet. You never have steaks catered for our games,” Kojack teased.

I shook my head with a chuckle. “I ain't a pompous asshole either.”

Dead Man and Kojack laughed as John walked in with the sheriff. “Gentleman, I'm sure you know Sheriff Bailey.”

“We do.” We had an understanding with the sheriff; we kept our illegal business out of the public eye and did some dirty work for him, and he'd turn a blind eye to the club's unsavory dealings. I nodded at him. “Sheriff.”

He tipped his hat. “Bullet. How are things at the shop?”

“Great. Business is booming.”

He took a seat at the table. “Good. Glad to hear it.”

Players slowly trickled in, and we were definitely out of place among them. I enjoyed making people uncomfortable and had no problem being the odd man out if it gave me the upper hand.

During the first hour of the game, I carefully observed everyone, making note of any tells or betting patterns. One of the most important factors in poker was knowing your opponents. If I knew how someone played well enough to bluff them out of a pot, the cards didn't matter.

I was playing on point and had tripled my stack after two hours. I took a break to go to the bathroom, and when I passed by the other poker room, I had to stop and do a double take.

No fucking way.

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