Up in Smoke (2 page)

T
aking a long drink of my soda, I continued my efforts to read the kid sitting across from me. He was a tough one to figure out. He wasn’t like the old guy to my left in the ten-gallon cowboy hat that only bet when he had a good hand. There was also no similarity between him and the punk rocker guy to my right, who had more piercings in his face than I thought was humanly possible. The punk would bluff when he got in too deep, and he had an easy tell that I picked up on early. He’d sniff every time he was bluffing. This kid, on the other hand, had no tells that I could pick up on. He showed zero emotion. I liked to think that I’d gotten pretty good at reading people over the years, but he had been at this table with me for a while and I still couldn’t figure him out. All the kid would do is pop an earbud in and out of his ear when someone would talk to him.

Glancing at my cards once more—a king and a ten—I narrowed my eyes on the kid. Our eyes met for a moment, but he looked away. My eyes fell on the three cards from the flop that was already on the table: ace of hearts, ten of clubs, eight of diamonds.

“What’s your name, kid?” I asked.

“Robert,” he replied.

“What you listening to, Robert?” I asked.

He furrowed his eyebrows. “Jazz,” he said curtly.

Our dealer, Joe, said, “Get on with the game. You guys can chat later.”

I checked.

“Raise,” the kid said, tossing in fifty dollars’ worth of poker chips toward the middle of the table. The dealer pulled the chips into the middle of the table and I looked over at Robert. He remained as cold as ice, with no tells.

His fifty dollar raise was going to put me all-in. My night would be over if I lost this hand. My eyes shifted to my few remaining poker chips that sat on the table next to me.

I rubbed the back of my neck as the decision to go all-in plagued my mind. It was quite early into my evening, and if I lost it all in one hand, I’d be forced to end my casino venture quite early. I glanced at my watch. It was only eight o’clock. I looked over at the kid as he seemed to get lost in his music once again. Staring at the three cards that were already on the table, I thought back to thirty or so minutes ago when the kid bluffed me.

The last time we ended up head-to-head, I folded in the fear that he had something better than I did. The kid was weird and revealed his hand instead of mucking. He had a high card of a jack, nothing else. I had folded two pairs, and I would have won. He’d show his cards whether he had a hand or not—that tactic kept me guessing each and every hand he’d play.

“Call,” I replied, coming out of my thoughts. Pushing my chair out, I stood up and crossed my arms. He flipped over an ace and a queen. He wasn’t bluffing this time. He had the high pair with his ace matching the ace on the flop. My heart began to pound inside my chest. It was so strong I could feel it in my ears. My anxiety climbed and my breath became short. Waiting for the last two cards—the turn and the river—to fall was pure torture.

The turn came: two of clubs.

The river came: ace of diamonds.

That was it—I was broke. Reaching across the table, I shook his hand and said, “Well done, kid.”

“You played some good poker,” he replied, popping his earbud out as we shook hands. “What’s your name?”

“I’m Rick, but everyone around here knows me as Blaze.”

His eyebrows shot up. “Why Blaze?” he asked. “You a legend or something?”

“No legend. I’m a firefighter. Down in Spokane,” I replied.

“Right on. Well, good luck. Hope we cross paths again.”

“Good luck to you,” I said, pushing in my chair to leave.

Grabbing my cup of soda from the table, I turned and began to leave the casino floor, heading back toward the hotel lobby. As I walked, I kept my eyes glued to the funky floral carpet design, trying to keep my mind occupied by going over the pattern I had seen so many times before. Then it happened, like it always did: the lights of the slot machines danced in my peripherals, and the sounds of them gnawed at my consciousness.

I wanted to stay. I wanted to play longer. I needed to.

I checked the time on my watch. It was eight thirty, far too early to call it a night.
Susan’s already asleep, and I’m not going to sleep well
, I told myself as I slowed my pace to a stop. Lifting my eyes up from the carpet, I saw it, like it was put there just for me.

The ATM.

Just a little longer to play,
I told myself. What’s the point of coming up to a casino for the weekend if you aren’t going to have fun? Bills are paid. My daughter is well-off enough to take care of herself and the grandkids. The fire station’s pension plan is more than enough for retirement. What’s the hurt to spend a little more? I thought of Susan. What would she think?

My conscience reminded me that she
told
me to play.

I looked back at the ATM.

Just a little more
, my conscience urged me on.

Going over to the ATM, I pulled out my wallet and slid out the debit card—not the one to our regular checking account. I made sure it was the one tied to our savings account over at the Credit Union. I slid it through the card reader.

The screen read,
Balance: $11,000
.

I sighed as I went through the menus and thought about the last three years. I’ve wasted almost seventy thousand dollars on poker at this blasted casino. Mostly competitions, but each time I played, I was filled with regret. It was never enough to stop me, though.

This was my soul crushing secret. I, Rick Alderman, was addicted to gambling. I had singlehandedly cut our savings and my inheritance by more than half because of my inability to tell myself
No
.

If Susan knew the truth, there was no doubt in my mind that it’d ruin our relationship—our whole marriage. She adored me and thought I was incapable of wrongdoing . . . well, outside of leaving my socks turned inside-out and my boots on the carpet. After thirty years of marriage, with its ups and downs, blessings and failures, this would be the one thing we couldn’t bounce back from, and I knew it. But even knowing that didn’t stop me. I justified my sin. After all, I had worked for a portion of that money, and the remainder was from my inheritance.

The ATM did its part and spat out the five hundred dollars I told it to.
This time I’ll win
, I thought to myself as I turned and headed back to the same poker table. Another way I justified my behavior was by thinking that if I could get on a good winning streak, I could earn all that money back and she’d never have to know. I would never have to break her heart.

Arriving back at the table, I was pleased to see that Robert was still there.

“Welcome back, Blaze,” the kid said, grinning from across the table as he rolled a poker chip between his fingers on one hand.

The corner of my mouth hinted at a smile as I pulled the chips Joe gave me over to my spot on the table. I had been coming to Joe’s table for years. He was really the only one who knew the real state of my addiction. “I came to take my money back, plus yours,” I said to Robert.

“Confident,” the kid replied. He looked over at the cowboy as he continued, “Larry here was telling me that you played in the Horseshoe Tournament a while back.”

“You heard right. I placed fourth, right outside of the bubble for a prize. Didn’t earn a dime.” My words were heavy as I thought about the bad beat I had in the tournament.

“That ain’t right,” the kid replied as Joe began dealing us cards. I favored Joe the most out of all of the dealers at North Bend Casino because he was quiet, yet always kind and respectful. He didn’t put up with the obnoxious drunks or jerks either. He wasn’t like the other dealers who would take anyone inebriated just so they could make a few extra bucks in tips.

“It happens. The tourney only paid out the top three spots. I laughed a little as I continued, “Sometimes that’s just how the cards fall.”

“Yeah.” As he looked at his cards, I took note of his lack of an earbud. Wasn’t sure if he forgot or if it was because we were chatting.

He raised. This time, it was $100. Still no earbud.

Peeking at my cards, I saw that I had a pair of aces—hearts and spades. There wasn’t a hand that I hated more. I was never able to win with them, but I always felt an obsessive need to play them.

“Call,” I said, tossing my chip into the middle of the table.

The flop came. It was a two of hearts, two of clubs and a queen of hearts.

The kid raised another hundred dollars’ worth of chips. Then he grabbed his earbud that he hadn’t had in and placed it into his ear.
That’s his tell
, I thought to myself. He’s bluffing. The kid focuses more on the music playing in his ear when he doesn’t have anything. How did I not notice it before?

“Raise,” I said. Tossing in the original hundred to call his, I followed it with another hundred dollars.

He smiled at me and raised again, this time forcing me to go all-in.

Everything told me he was lying. He was pot committed and trying to scare me off. Without hesitation, I went all-in and stood up.

He removed his earbud and looked up at me. “Really? First hand back and you’re all-in?”

I grinned at him. I suspected that he was sweating bullets underneath that hard exterior.

He leaned in and looked at the flop for a moment and then called my all-in. “I’m sorry to do this to you, Blaze.” He flipped a two of diamonds and a king of spades. He wasn’t bluffing. My read was wrong.

Flipping my two aces over, we both waited for the turn and the river.

Another queen came up on the turn, this time a diamond.

My heart raced for what felt like a million miles per hour as Joe turned over the River card.
Come on, please! An ace! Come on! Come on!
I rooted myself on internally.

Ace of clubs.

Shooting both my hands up into the air, I felt like I was on top of the world. “Congratulations,” the kid said from across the table, smiling. “Won it on the river.”

“Yep.” Leaning across the table, I shook his hand and sat back down. Pulling the chips over to me, I began stacking them up. I was back in business. Up to a grand already, and the night was young.

The kid, the cowboy and I played for the next couple of hours at that table. My stack went up and down like waves in an ocean: up one hour, down the next.

As we approached the three o’clock hour that next morning, I began to think of Susan and how she’d be getting up in a mere four hours or so. I needed to get back up to my room and get a little shut eye before she woke up. Folding my last hand and electing not to play, I said to the kid, “I’m calling it a night.”

“It’s been a pleasure.” His eyes watched me as I loaded the poker chip holder with my winnings to leave.

Taking my chips, I stood up and headed over to the cage to cash them in. As I waited for the cashier to tally them up, I felt a tap on my shoulder.

“Blaze,” a familiar voice said from behind me.

“What’s up?” I said, turning around. It was Robert.

“You have some serious skill. You should go down to Vegas next month and play in the World Series of Poker.” He looked serious, but that didn’t stop me from laughing.

I laughed, shaking my head. “I’m not that good, kid. I couldn’t sit with those hall of fame poker players. Plus, everyone and their cousin tries to get in on that.”

He shook his head. “I went a few years back. It’s not like what you think. It’s more than just one main event. They have multiple tournaments scattered across a three month window.”

The idea sounded like a farfetched fantasy, but I entertained the thought for a moment. “What’s the buy-in? You going?”

“Not this year. Ten grand for the one I played in when I went. It’s one of the last tournaments they host every year. I believe it’s on the twenty-ninth of this month.”

I was about to respond, but the cashier caught my attention.

“Sir,” the cashier said.

“Yeah?” I leaned up toward the cage.

“How would you like your payout?”

“Uh . . . in cash,” I replied, distracted by the thought of the kid’s proposition.

She laughed. “I mean, what bills would you like?”

“Hundreds is fine.” My face went flush, I could feel it.

She counted it all out to me. All two thousand and fifty dollars of it. I was on top of the world. My eyes were wide as I scooped up the cash. “Thank you,” I said to her. Turning, I left the cage and the kid followed beside me.

“Look at that. Two grand for the night. What’d you start with?”

I shrugged. “Two hundred and then another five.”

He lightly pushed my shoulder, stopping me. “See that? You turned seven hundred dollars into two grand in one night. Vegas better watch out!”

“Yeah, but I rarely win like this. Vegas sounds like a lot of fun, but I can’t see it happening.”

He nodded. “You broke or something?” he asked with his chin raised, almost looking a bit suspicious.