This is a rewrite of 'Vegas', combining both Books. While maintaining the theme, it offers a completely different and fresh take for the main characters.
Grateful thanks go to the best editor in the world -- thesoundandfury - not only for his editing, but also for the constant encouragement, suggestions, and for helping me to become a better writer.
Chapter 15: One for all… all for one
As each player was knocked out, the table took a short break to accommodate the ESPN television crew. That allowed the remaining players to take a breather whilst the departed player was interviewed. Those breaks, together with the regular two hourly intervals,
allowed the players a little more breathing room than had been the case in the tournament so far.
At each break, Norman Chad had made a point of talking to Daniel, making him laugh with some quip or other whilst all the time telling him to relax and play solid. Daniel didn't tell the little man how much that meant to him, but both knew how invaluable it was. Granting access to the empty interview room was another example of how thoughtful the diminutive commentator was.
"Where's Holly?" Daniel asked Rosie as they headed for the room to escape the mayhem for a few moments.
"I don't know," the redhead responded. "Said she had some business to attend to, but that she'd be back shortly."
"Business?"
"Yes… but listen to this, Daniel," Rosie continued, her voice trembling with excitement. "Holly told me to check my bank account this afternoon. Said there'd be a present from Big Eddie there, a recompense for everything he's put me through."
"Recompense?" Daniel stared into his girlfriend's wide, green eyes. Her hands were shaking when he took them in his. "What's he up to, Rosie?" he asked, wondering what more damage that gangster could do.
"I've no idea, but there's a hundred and fifty thousand dollars there," she gasped, her whole body trembling against his now. "Daniel…"
"That's… that's impossible," he mumbled, taking her by the shoulders and staring intently into her big, green eyes. "Rosie, he wouldn't do that… would he? I mean, how… why… what made him…"
The redhead pulled the Englishman into a hug. "Hold me," she whispered, digging her face into his shoulder. "I don't know why," she murmured into his neck. "I don't know. Why
would
he do that?"
"Better ask Holly when she gets back," he suggested, one hand stroking her silky red hair as he held her tight. "Looks like she has all the answers…"
***
Daniel was still pondering on the money in Rosie's account when he returned to the action. It made no sense! And how did Holly know about it? Put it out of your mind, he told himself, for the moment at least. He had work to do.
Before the first had after the break was dealt, he stroked his crystal four times. Once for each player remaining. He'd done that since Harrington became the first player to fall all that time ago. Why, he had no idea.
Probably for the first time in the entire tournament, he was beginning to believe he could win. All the sensible money had been on the pros, but with the two amateurs shoulder by shoulder with over forty million, Cunningham had some ground to make up with thirty two million, and the Canadian, Gavin Smith, was suddenly the short stack with 'only' twenty million.
That made him
the
target, though not an easy one. A double up would turn him from short stack to chip leader.
Either way, it seemed to make no difference to the tubby joker. In true Gavin Smith style, the Canadian had constantly wisecracked throughout, bringing some light relief from the tensions that had existed throughout the day. It may have been wasted on the indefatigable Cunningham and the arrogant Smith, but he'd found a willing audience in the Englishman.
Daniel found himself enjoying the humorous, teasing repartee and couldn't help but laugh along at the steady stream of one-liners. He'd been feeling the pace over the last hour or so and tiredness was catching up with him, especially after the exhausting but exhilarating night he'd spent with Rosie.
Thoughts of their lovemaking had begun to flitter through his mind, warming his soul but affecting his concentration. Gavin Smith was a timely outlet…
Play underway, Daniel's King-Ten wasn't a monster, but it was worth playing fourhanded. When Allen Cunningham made the usual button raise, he simply called in the small blind. Possibly a raise was more sensible, but with the unpredictable Gavin Smith behind him, it was a safer option.
So it proved, the Canadian pushed all in.
Cunningham immediately folded, with that now familiar nervous twitch of his nose. With a call and a re-raise, his interest in the hand suddenly ended.
That left Daniel with a decision and the Englishman pushed himself back in his chair, his eyes studying his opponent. Gavin Smith winked at him, pushing back the black cap that perched so well on his mop of unruly hair.
"I know what you're thinking," the Canadian grinned, taking a sip from what looked remarkably like a glass of whisky. You never knew with Gavin Smith. "You're thinking I'm making a move because I have to. That I don't really have a hand. But then again, you're wondering if I do. And the last thing you want is to double me up. Quite a dilemma, huh?"
Daniel's deep sigh gave the game away.
"Confused, huh?" the Canadian chuckled. "Me, too."
The Englishman couldn't help but smile back at the chortling Smith. With that little black cap and light shirt that constantly needed tucking into his crumpled jeans, he looked like a scruffy, overgrown schoolboy.
"Hmmm," the Canadian continued his verbal assault. Didn't he ever shut up? Daniel already knew the answer to that question. "If you're in this much doubt, I'd say you don't have an Ace. That means a King? King-Queen you'd definitely call with, probably King-Jack, too. Okay, that leaves King-Ten. Unsuited. If I were you, I'd fold."
Daniel grinned. The man was uncanny with his reads, but then, he'd been doing that all day. If he called and was right, Daniel would have the chip lead. Call and lose, and he and Smith would reverse positions.
He'd
be the target.
"Tell you what," the Canadian chirped, not giving Daniel's mind time to settle. "Why don't we forget the cards? You call, and the first one to complete a hundred press-ups takes the hand. What d'you think?"
It was impossible not to join in with Smith's laughter. The tubby Canadian looked as if he couldn't do five press-ups, let alone a hundred.
"Don't let this exterior fool ya," Smith continued. "Inside, there's the body of an athlete, just raring to go."
Daniel grinned back at his smiling opponent. It was as impossible to dislike the Canadian as it was to focus in the face of such banter. That may have been why he called, he didn't know. All he
did
know was that the sensible move would have been to lay the hand down, but Smith's banter and the tiredness that was creeping all over his mind saw him make an uneducated gamble.
The resigned flicker in the Canadian's eyes told Daniel the gamble had worked, even before the professional had turned over his Jack-Ten.
That was even better than Daniel hoped. He'd been lucky…
The flop put a different complexion on his luck. Queen-Jack-Two.
