“All in, huh?” he questions, and his eyes observe my body language like any good poker player would do. Although, it’s more of a show than anything else. I can already tell he’s about a minute away from folding his cards.
And with a swift shake of his head and his beefy fingers swiping his cards toward the middle, he does, in fact,fold.
“Oh boy!” I let out a giddy giggle as the dealer shoves the chips back in my direction. “That was kind of exciting. But I was also so nervous at the same time. Is that normal?”
White Beard grins. “Yeah, darlin’. I guess you could say every hand can provide a bit of an adrenaline rush.”
I make a mental note to fold my next few hands to keep these men guessing, while occasionally asking questions like,“Is a straight better than a flush, or is it the other way around?”
The second hand I fold turns into quite the standoff between White Beard and Navy Suit, and while they decide their move at the turn, my phone lights up with a text notification.
Jude: I just got back to the room, and you’re not here. Is Mike Tyson’s tiger in the bathroom? Should I start checking the roof now?
I laugh, typing out an answer that’s slightly more grounded in reality than Hollywood.
Me: I’m losing all your free casino money.
Technically speaking, I’m up about five hundred.
Jude: HA. Did you leave a trail of cookies to help me find you, or should I just ask you where you are?
Me: At our lovely casino’s poker room.
Jude: Hold up. You’re playing poker in the Venetian?
Me: Texas Hold’em, to be exact.
Jude: Babe, no offense, but do you know how to play poker?
Pfft. Of course, I know how to fucking play.I’m almost offended that he asked me that question, but then I realize it’s that kind of thought process that’s going to allow me to steal all of these old dude’s chips.
So, I keep that mind-set and shoot a rambling text back.
Me: I mean, I know that a straight means that all the cards have to go in order. And a flush means that all your cards have to have the same cute symbol at the top. Like, all the hearts need to match. Or all the spades. Personally, I like diamonds the best.
Jude: LOL. Sounds like you’re all set, then.
Me: Does being back at the room mean you’re done with your meeting?
Jude: Yep. And I’m on the prowl for my sexy little Girl Scout.
Me: Well, I’m pretty sure you can find her in the Poker Room. She’ll be the one wearing a pair of jean shorts and a T-shirt that says “The Secret Club.”
Jude: Wait…those cutoff jean shorts where I get to see the bottom curve of your ass?
I furrow my brow. This is the only pair of jean shorts I brought with me, and, to be honest, I don’t recall my butt cheeks actually hanging out of them.
Me: Uh…pretty sure you can’t see my ass in these.
Jude: I did.
Me: When?
Jude: When you were bending over this morning to get something out of your suitcase.
I shake my head on a silent laugh. I swear, sometimes, he’s like the pervy, underwear-stealing stalker I didn’t even know I wanted.
Jude: I’ll be there before you can say the Girl Scout Promise.