The alarm clock on the bed stand went off at 8pm with a throbbing incessant thousand bee like noise that annoyed more than it did to wake anyone. Steve Barcelone flung his arm to where the noise was emanating and slapped the top of the clock shutting off the alarm. The silence was comforting as he rolled over and pulled the bed covers around him and tried to go back to sleep, but ten minutes later the annoying alarm issued another relentless buzzing attack. Aggravated, Steve sat up and slammed the alarm on the clock to the off position then sat on the edge of the bed running his hand through his hair in attempt wake.
The ex-marine, still muscular from regular workouts, rubbed his arms that were distinctly marked with tattoos of his military involvement with an image of a tiger, opened mouth, and with fangs bared that laced down his back in an intricate inked pattern. His dark brown hair was closely cropped and his face was chiseled as if in stone and showed little emotion. A trait he learned to use in the line of work he now did for a living.
He yawned and stretched his arms over his head before heading to the bathroom. Twenty minutes later he returned, quickly dressed in black pants, a white button down shirt, opened at the collar, and navy blue sport coat. He slipped on a pair of black leather shoes, a gold watch, and smoothed his hair back on his head. A splash of cologne completed his ritual and then headed out to work.
Grabbing a coffee from the local coffee shop, Steve made his way to the Pelican casino and drank the brew slowly in the corner of the nightclub which was part of the casino and waited until the cue was given to go upstairs. As a high stakes gambler, he mentally prepared himself for the night's event and when the cue came from the bartender, he headed towards the elevator and rode it to the private and elite poker room used specifically for those who had enough money to play. As he entered, the dealer nodded to him as Steve sat across from him and acknowledged the others who were to be his opponents for the evening.
Jackie Berman, a balding chubby cigar smoking man with full lips and thin mustache sat on the left of him wearing a white shirt and jacket that barely fit around his belly. He was a regular just like Steve and they both gave each other a complimentary nod acknowledging the other's expertise with cards. Both professional gamblers, they never spoke, but had a deep respect for the game and the intense strategy it took to play at such high stakes.
To the right of Steve was Charlie O. No one knew his last name and that was the way the gambler wanted it. He was a thin tall man of darker skin than the others and most speculated that he was either a man of royalty in some foreign country or held some high ranking position in a field that frowned on gambling. He always dressed in black, wore dark glasses and said very little. Steve had played against him before and he was a worthy opponent outlasting most of the participants when others quit when the stakes were high. Charlie O seemed to have a never ending supply of money. He was intriguing and mysterious by any man's standards, but kept to himself.
As far as Steve was concerned, gambling was an individual enterprise and didn't call for one to become friends with the other gamblers. Too much was at stake to take that chance. It was how he made his living and he was good at it. It showed by the penthouse apartment he lived in and the Mercedes in the parking garage that was brought to him by a valet when he wanted it. Life was good for the ex-Marine.
Sharkey the dealer loaded the cards into the machine that shuffled the deck, but waited before dealing. There was one more expected participant and he couldn't start the game until the last member of the elite group arrived. Steve tapped his fingers on the table anxious to feel the rush of the first hand that was to be dealt. It was always the best hand and the sensation he felt was nothing short of euphoric.
Minutes later, the door opened to the suite and a slender shapely woman with blonde hair swept up over her head entered and gracefully sauntered to her chair on the opposite side of Steve and to the left of the dealer. A valet, seeming appearing out of nowhere, pulled back the chair for her and she sat down without saying a word. She wore a low cut emerald green sequined dress that showed cleavage deep enough to be a ski slope and complimented her attire with matching diamond and emerald jewelry that sparkled from her ears and neck. She didn't smile, but sat with a face that was naturally sculptured into a beautiful oval and her eyes, were blue pools that were inviting to jump into, but by invitation only as her demeanor was elegant and commanded respect. No slouch to the game, it was evident as she sat confident in her chair and waited along with the others for Sharkey to deal the first hand.
"Miss Chandler, it is nice to see you," Sharkey began. "Are we ready?"
The woman's lips turned up and nodded, "Yes, I'm ready," she replied in a soft voice.
Jackie Berman chewed his cigar and took a sip of his now watered down drink. He didn't like playing against a woman. Poker was a man's sport and a woman only tainted the virility of those that engaged in it plus he wasn't about to fall for a woman's charm even if she did look like a million bucks. He liked to look at pretty women that was for certain, but the wrath his wife would inflict on him if he did anything more wasn't worth it. He valued his life and decided to ignore her.
Charlie O casually saw the woman enter, but made no effort to acknowledge her. To him, she was just another player that he had to beat and nothing more. Whether she was bedazzled or wore rags made no difference to him as long as the winning pot went to him. If she had the money to ante up and play at the "big boy" table, then let her. Her money was as good as anyone else's.
Steve took another gulp of his coffee. He never drank anything stronger when he was gambling. He wanted all his faculties on the game, but he couldn't stop looking at the woman across from him. She was gorgeous, cool, confident, and so out of place at the poker table. He couldn't be distracted he told himself, but the bulge in his pants made him shift in his chair to accommodate the growth. If it were anywhere else, he would have made a play for her. He knew how to be charming and it was almost a challenge to see how long it would take to get a woman into his bed. Now he had to focus. There would be time for playing after the game was done.
Sharkey looked up at the clock at the wall that registered 10pm.
"Ladies and gentlemen. It's time to start the game. Everyone ante up," he said in his professional voice.
Four one hundred dollar chips were thrown into the middle of the table and Sharkey dealt five cards to each of the players. Silence filled the room as each picked up the edge of their cards to look at them and thought for a moment before making their decision whether to keep the cards they had or to discard them for new ones.
Charlie O was the first to speak, "Two," he said to Sharkey as he discarded two cards into the center of the table. Sharkey obliged and dealt two more cards to the mysterious man
"Give me three," said Jackie and the dealer obliged once more.
"One," said Steve and Sharkey dished out another card to him.
"I'll hold," said Miss Chandler and Sharkey looked at her, but said nothing.
The bets were made and raised until the pot was over two thousand dollars before it was called. Charlie O held three eights, but nothing more. Jackie just folded his cards, sighed and ordered another drink from the valet who stood at the end of the room.
"Whiskey and soda," he ordered, but the valet waited until the others played to fulfill the request.
Steve laid out his cards showing the cards in numerical order, "a straight," he said and began to smile.
Miss Chandler laid her cards on the table showing a low card of four of spades and a high of eight of spades with the remaining cards the same and in order.
"A flush beats a straight," said Sharkey as Miss Chandler drew the winning chips towards her.
Steve pursed his lips and eyed the woman, not so much with anger at losing, but for the fact she understood the game so well. Setting his jaw, he knew who his opponent was for the evening and as Sharkey dealt out the next hand, Steve was ready.
The pot was small and went to Charlie O who scooped up the chips with one hand while Jackie threw his cards in once again. Steve had only a pair and shrugged it off. Losing am occasional hand was part of the game. Miss Chandler sat stoic and threw her cards in without showing her hand. Sharkey pulled the cards in and casually glanced at the hand and smiled. The hand would have won, but the pot was low and wasn't worth it to her.
Several hands were played until the clock on the wall recorded 1am. The game was getting heavier. The bets were getting higher and the stakes were all or nothing. Steve had waited all evening for this one round. All or nothing was an adrenalin rush.
"Ante up," said Sharkey and the chips were tossed to the center of the table.
Jackie was sweating profusely and the cigar that he had been chewing on all evening dangled from the corner of his mouth. Charlie O wiped his palms on his pants before looking at his cards and Steve stiffened ready for the next play. He glanced over at the woman known as Miss Chandler and she didn't flinch, didn't heave a sigh nor did she change her demeanor. She didn't even look tired as she looked at her cards and knocked on the table with her knuckle.
"One," she said calmly and the dealer obliged.
"Two," said Steve and swapped out his cards.
"Two," said Charlie O.
"I'm out," said Jackie again as he threw his cards in and sat back to watch the others play.
The tension was palpable as each raised the other in increments of a thousand. Then another round then another until the pot held fifty thousand dollars. This was when the game got interesting thought Steve. This was his "sweet spot". The moment where everything was won or lost on one hand. His heart beat in his chest. Adrenalin surged through him to the point where he could barely sit still. He looked at Charlie O and his demeanor remained the same, but his fingers began to anxiously drum on the table. He was nervous and excited as well. This was what it was all about. That final moment where the stakes were high and the excitement even higher.
"Call," said Sharkey and as if in slow motion each revealed their cards.
Charlie O had three of a kind and a pair. Steve held four of a kind and they waited for Miss Chandler who took a deep breath before revealing a ten, a jack, a queen, a king, and an ace all in hearts. Steve sank in his chair while Charlie O resigned to the loss, quietly stood, and nodded then left the room followed quickly by Jackie Berman.
"Congratulations," Steve said as he stood to leave as well.
"Thank you," the woman said.
Sharkey eyed Steve then glanced at the woman knowing the game of poker was over, but another type of game was about to begin.
