The Backup Asset

…11

Sylvia Copperwaite wore a pink halter dress, very little jewelry, and her blond hair tied in a simple ponytail. Her green eyes were focused intently and her forehead showed lines of strain as she evaluated her hand. Two kings, a jack, a ten, and a six. She could have used better luck.

She checked the other players briefly. The skinny guy at her left had a satisfied hint of a smile in his eyes. He had something. The swine across the table, the overweight, sweaty asshole who had made lecherous comments the entire evening looked worried. The guy in the blue shirt at her right showed nothing; he was impassible, apparently not even paying attention. Blue Shirt was dangerous.

She checked the diminishing pile of chips in front of her and took a leap of faith.

“Three, please,” she asked the dealer, holding on to the kings and ditching everything else.

“Two,” Blue Shirt asked.

“I’m good,” said the skinny guy at her left. He was served, as they say in poker, which meant his hand had been strong from the start.

“Give me a slice of that,” the swine said pointing at her, “and two great cards.”

Sylvia flashed an angry glare across the table. She could always leave, but she wanted to play a couple more hands, that’s all.

The dealer ignored the first part of the swine’s request and delivered the two cards.

“I’m out,” Blue Shirt said and folded.

“I’m in,” declared Skinny, and threw a few chips in the pile.

Sylvia hesitated. Skinny Guy hadn’t asked for cards, which in many cases meant he had a flush or full house. She checked her new cards. Another king and two nines. It was worth a shot, but she was gonna try to play it safe. She added a few chips and said, “Call.”

A minute later the swine raked in the entire pot, brought to him by a full house aces high. He smiled at her and asked, “Would you care for some of this back, honey? There are a few ways I can think of.”

“Yeah, like a good hand,” she snapped.

“If you’re into hand jobs, I’ll take it,” the swine commented.

“Your last warning,” Blue Shirt said, “we’re here to play cards, not insult each other. I will call the manager on you. We don’t have to put up with your shit.”

Sylvia blushed. Why hasn’t she stood up for herself? Why hasn’t she stood up, period? She could just leave, instead of sitting here, an easy target for the slimy worm across the table, and losing money on top of it all. One more hand, she decided, then I’ll go.

The problem was she needed a big win. She’d had a streak of losing hands lately, emptying her bank accounts, maxing out her credit cards, and leaving her stranded. She needed a big win to make it to the next paycheck. The next paycheck, seven days away, was going to bring her some relief, but until then she was screwed. She had a good job and made a six-figure income as an electromechanical engineer, but her luck at cards needed serious improvement. She held a PhD in computational modeling, but couldn’t model herself out of spiraling gambling debt.

Her next hand held a nice surprise, three aces, a seven, and a deuce. She asked for two cards, and got another ace. She went all in, not paying attention anymore to her opponents’ tells. This was her last chance. Minutes later, she was cleaned out, losing in favor of a straight flush drawn by the swine.

She stood up, a little dazed, and made for the exit. The swine grabbed her hand as she walked pass him.

“Let me help you out of your bind, you beautiful thing,” he said, licking his revolting lips. “I have a lot of money to spend. Let me make your day.”

She yanked her hand from his grip and walked out of the casino, tears welling in her eyes. She approached her car and leaned against the hood, trying to regain balance, as her sobs grew louder and a wave of nausea hit her, causing her to convulse and vomit near the front left wheel.

She didn’t feel sick because she was drunk. It was because for a split second she had considered taking the swine’s offer for another chance to sit at that green table, play a few more hands, and maybe win it all back. She needed help.