Page 53 of Wild Card (Advantage Play 1)

Shuffling a fresh deck of cards, the dealer’s quiet voice commands the room. “Hello, everyone. As you can see, my name is Chance.” He drops his chin to point out his name tag before continuing. “We’re going to play some Texas Hold’em tonight with the standard rules. The player to my left,”—he motions to some hotshot in a designer suit—“will start with the small blind. Let’s begin.”

Chapter Thirty-One

Ace

With a flick of his wrist, Chance deals the cards around the table until there are two in front of every player. Casually, I lift the corners of the cards I’ve been dealt and take a quick peek before my eyes dart around the table. Glancing back at my cards, my vision goes blurry, and I give myself a mental pep talk.

Okay, Ace. This is it. Stop freaking out about the asshat across the table and focus. If you want to put him in his place, then you need to win, which means you need to clear your head. Slowly, I let out the breath I’ve been holding and conceal my smile. I’ve got this.

After taking another look at my cards, I consider my game plan. I should fold, but I want to solidify my opponents’ initial impression of me. I need to look like I don’t really know what I’m doing. At least, not to play at this level, and this is a great opportunity to prove it.

Everyone places their ante in the center of the table, signifying they want to play the hand. When it’s my turn, I toss a chip in. Chance then places three community cards face up––also known as the flop––in the center of the black felt table.

Watching the players around me, I search for their tells. Anything that will help me read them and give me an idea of what their hand is like. A twitch of the mouth, a touch of their shirt. A twist of their fingers. Anything. I don’t notice that I’m avoiding Burlone’s presence until I catch him smirking at me. Digging my fingers into the palm of my hand that rests against my leg beneath the table and hidden from his view, I let the bite of pain ground me while waiting for him to break our little staring contest. Seconds later, he turns his attention back to Chance, and I unclench my fist.

Mr. Suit is asked if he wants to bid, and he obliges by tossing a small stack of chips onto the table. Everyone follows suit, including me, even though it pains me to waste money when I know I’m not going to win.

Remember the big picture, Ace.

The hand continues when Chance adds another card to the community set. Now there are four in the center and two in our hands. We can use a total of five to create the best hand possible. Unfortunately for me, I still have shit to work with.

Again, the players are asked if they’d like to bet or fold. Anticipation rolls through me as I ignore Burlone and watch Mr. Suit throw his cards onto the table, folding, followed by Cowboy #1 and Cowboy #2. Oh, yes, there are two cowboys. Both from the South, and both with southern accents that remind me of Dottie, only more sophisticated.

Patrick, Burlone, and I are the only players who haven’t folded yet when Patrick tosses another chip worth five thousand dollars into the center. Tucking my hair behind my ear, I smile nervously then follow suit, throwing a chip into the pot.

I can feel Burlone watching me as he does the same thing, playing right into my hands, though I could do without his attention. Once everyone has placed their bets, Chance flips over the last card onto the table, giving us five community cards. Patrick checks by brushing his knuckles against the felt, and I follow suit, silently telling everyone at the table that I don’t want to add anything to the pot.

Again, Burlone calculates my move and counters it by mirroring my action. Once we’ve all checked, we begin showing our cards. Patrick has a pair of tens, I have shit, and Burlone ends with a pair of jacks. With a triumphant smile, he leans forward and sweeps the chips in the center of the table toward him.

The hand cost me thirty thousand dollars, but I’m going to end up winning because of it. I can tell because as soon as the hand is played, Burlone writes me off as a formidable opponent. Exactly the way I wanted him to.

Game. Set. Match.

An hour later, we’ve weeded out out the losers, and the only players left are Patrick, Burlone, me, and Texas. Glancing to my right, I offer him a friendly smile before noting his dwindling pile of chips.

After Chance deals the next hand, Burlone tosses down his cards immediately, followed by Patrick seconds later. I, on the other hand, have a pair of sixes. Texas gives me the side-eye as I throw in my ante, showing I want to play the rest of the hand. With a subtle mouth twitch, he does the same.

Chance lays down three community cards in the center of the table, displaying another six along with a two and a king.

Perfect.

I don’t want to scare off Texas by betting big, so I decide to toss in two chips, praying he’ll follow suit.

He does.

Another card is placed in the center, face up. It doesn’t matter what it is. I’ve got this. Three of a kind is hard to beat, and unless he has a pair of kings in his hand and plans to use the king on the table, then I’ve got this hand in the bag.

However, with another twitch of his lips, I know he doesn’t.

If I want to cut him out of the game, then I need to guide him like a baby deer. Slowly. Patiently.

Licking his lips, he waits for me to raise the bet, call it, or fold. I take a long second to chew my lower lip before throwing a couple more chips into the pot before shifting my gaze to him and smiling tightly. My heart is racing like a jackhammer, but I keep my expression tense, as though I’m worried about what the outcome of the hand is going to be when I’ve already played the odds in my head and know my chances of walking away the victor are insanely high.

The combination is enough to convince him to stay in, and he meets my bet, raising me the rest of his money.

I’m so close, I can almost taste it, yet I try to stay calm. Instead of putting all of my chips in right away, I pretend to weigh my options before hesitantly following suit.

“Nervous, Macey?” Texas mutters under his breath. His entire body oozes confidence as he leans back in his chair and watches Chance flip the final card. Unless it’s a king, I’m solid.

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