The Big Gamble in Paradise; Episode 4

This is the second episode of the novel I'm currently writing. The title is The Big Gamble in Paradise. I'm about halfway through my first rewrite, and I think it will be completed in six or eight weeks. I hope you enjoy this episode, and more will follow.

Episode #4

Trace was as skilled as anyone handling cards. He played many hours while passing time on the Bering Sea. But on the ship, it was a distraction, and gambling was not permitted, not even penny-ante—chips only. And if the captain caught a whiff of gambling, there were no second chances. The men at the table now were there for money or ego, and one is just as much an incentive as the other.

Trace sat at the table, knowing he had to lose. Parker impressed upon him that the house did not want him to leave with 35 thousand dollars. The question in his mind was, How much did the house want back? He was determined not to take chances—lose it all—walk out with what he walked in.

He mused if Parker might be the one he had to lose to. After all, it did seem like more than a chance meeting. Parked played well, but cautious. Ted always bluffed. To Trace, that marked him as a little more than an amateur. Baxter appeared very slick and comfortable at the table. Trace surmised this might be his life—a professional. Jasper Spencer appeared the most curious. He looked as though he just crawled out of a bunk and just worked on his automobile in order to get to the casino.

Something seemed to overtake Trace after a few hands. The game completely consumed his thinking. He played to win, forgetting he wanted to walk away from the table with only the money he walked into the casino with.

Parker saw what was going on and tried to make eye contact with him to break him from the mindset that had overcome him. In a high-stakes poker game, it is near impossible because everyone is suspicious of any movement or prolonged stare.

The game ebbed and flowed. Everyone had their time as a winner, but shortly at eleven thirty, Parker ran out of money. Two hands later, Ted and Baxter pulled away from the table. This left Spence and Trace.

Trace looked across the table at Spence and grinned. “So you’re the one.”

“The one, what?” Spence said.

“You know,” Trace said.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Spence said.

“One more hand for everything?” Trace said.

Spencer rubbed the forefingers and thumbs together on each hand. “It’s your turn to deal. Don’t take this personal, but one last hand and the guy in the bowtie deals.”

“How can I take that personal?” Trace said. “I was about to make the same suggestion.”

“Five cards; whoever has the best hand of those five cards,” Spence said.

“I think that’s a good way to end the evening.” Trace looked at his watch. “I have an unfair advantage. Today is my birthday. I’m not in the least superstitious. But I’ve never had a day like this in my entire life. So to give you an even chance, we play the hand after midnight.”

“Sounds like you want to lose,” Spence said.

“I walked in here tonight with a hundred dollars,” Trace said. “If I leave with that, how do I lose?”

“In order to do that, you better sweeten the pot,” Spence said. “You only have half your chips out there.”

“In order for me to put the rest of my chips on the final hand, you’re going to have to help me out.”

Spence grinned smugly. “I’m tapped out; here’s the title to my boat.”

“Your boat?” Trace said.

“One hundred and five foot schooner,” Spence said. “It’s an island trader, worth a lot more than your final bid.”

“What am I going to do with a one hundred and five foot schooner, shit coconuts?” Trace said.

“You won’t have to worry about that,” Spence said. “You’re luck has run out.”

“Let’s do it,” Trace said.

“New deck,” Spence said.

The man in the bowtie grabbed a new deck from a display on a table next to the wall.

He started to unwrap the deck. Trace placed his hands on the deck. “Stop, I’ll pick the deck.”

The man in the bow tie shrugged. “Which one?”

Trace stretched to look at the decks. “Top row, second from the right.”

The man in the bowtie grabbed the deck. He unwrapped it, and shuffled. He slid the deck to Trace. Trace cut the deck. He let the deck lay. The man in the bowtie picked up the deck and dealt five cards to Spence and Trace.

Trace pressed a smile. He held his arm up and glanced at his watch. “Three past midnight,” he said. “My birthday luck has ran out.” He clicked his cheek. “My weakest hand.” He laid his cards down face up. “Pair, of sixes, nine high. Good game.”

He looked across the table at Spence. He scratched his grizzled beard. Trace started to rise from his chair.

Parker said, “Don’t ya wanna see what Spence is holding?”

Trace finished standing and smirked. “Let’s see your hand, Lucky.”

Spence swallowed hard. He tossed his cards on the table, face up. “Pair of fours, six high. I guess you’re the lucky one. Ya got a pot of forty thousand and a boat.”

Baxter and Ted let out a sigh and congratulated Trace.

Trace shook his head in disbelief. “Two crap hands, and it ain’t even my birthday. What am I going to do with a boat?”

“It’s worth three times what I bet,” Spence said. He signed the title and tossed it across the table.

Trace scraped the pile of money into his bag, and what didn’t fit, he stuffed in his shirt. He picked up the boat title and read it. “Poerava, what does it mean?”

“Black pearl,” Spence said.

“That’s a good name,” Trace said, stashing the title inside his shirt. He glanced at Spence and reached back into his bag and tossed a bundle of ten-dollar bills across the table.

“What’s this for?” Spence said.

“My daddy played some poker. I don’t know how good he was, but he said, If you ever clean a man out, at least leave him with something.”

Spence picked up the bundle and ran his thumb over the edge. “Thanks; this ought to get me back to Brisbane. Maybe I’ll find a game of poker and get lucky.”

“Where’s the boat?”

“It’s docked in the harbor,” Spence said. “It’s the only one there.”

“How big did you say it is?” Trace said.

“One hundred five feet,” Spence said. “A cargo island hopper.”

“A white elephant is more like it,” Trace said sarcastically.

Trace gripped the bag in his fist and walked out of the room. Parker followed.

“Let’s slip in here,” Parker said, opening the door to a men’s room.

Parker locked the door.

“You’re never going to make it back to your motel,” Parker said. “That guy, Spence, was supposed to sucker you into losing all your money. You were smart enough to have the decks switched. The one you were supposed to use was probably marked. There was just one flaw in your plan—remember, you were supposed to lose.”

“I didn’t think it was possible with the hand I had,” Trace said.

Parker stood back and looked at Trace up and down. “We’re pretty much the same size,” Parker started to undress. “Undress,” Parker ordered.

“Why?” Trace said.

“I will be you, and you will be me,” Parker said.

They exchanged clothes.

“I should be so good-looking,” Parker said.

“You must have something in mind,” Trace said.

“We are going to walk out into the casino. I will go to the lounge as you and you will mosey around,” Parker said. “That’s right, isn’t it? Cowboys do a lot of moseying. And slip out the front door, and get back to your motel as fast as you can.”

“What about you?”

'Don’t worry about me,” Parker said, stuffing the money inside Trace’s pockets and inside his shirt.

“Now, let’s go,” Parker said, “and remember...”

Trace interrupted, “Mosey, right.”

“Exactly,” Parker said.

“And you go out there and schlep around,” Trace said.

Parker smiled.