Pocket Aces. The flop is Jack, Queen, King suited. Just need the 10 spade to hit. In my entire poker career I’ve only hit one other time, and I didn’t even know I’d hit it. That was back when I was 13 playing for money to eat. 10 spades. Now I’m 56. People around this table here are just like me. We’re like veneers, polished and clean on the outside, mangled and deformed on the inside. Final bets are in; I pushed all in. It don’t take nuts when you’ve got the nuts. Two other guys matched my push and delivered themselves out of the game. As good-spirited players often do, these two guys approached me and each shook my hand, “Great play Cliff”, and each focused their attention on my teeth. Must be from my lunch. I always eat the same thing: A chicken salad sandwich with everything on it and a bag of salt and vinegar potato chips. There isn’t much on this small cruise ship but I’m not here for fun, I’m here for business.
Slowly but surely, through attrition, the table went from 6 players down to me and one other guy. I must admit, while I do think I am pretty good at big group play, my heads-up game is unmatched on these boats. One of my tricks for the trade is faulty tells. Say for instance that every time you bluff or have a strong hand, you touch a specific part of your face. Consistency is key. Once you burn em, they will never bite again, so do so wisely. I cashed in my faulty tell after luring this last guy into a monster of a hand. Full house beats 3 of a kind every day of the week. The look of disbelief is always the same. Now, this guy wasn’t as good-spirited as the others, but I know how hard it is to lose 30 thousand in just one hand. “You lowdown scum cuddler! I oughtta come across this table and kill you.” Now standing, this 6-foot-3 farm-strong behemoth towered over the table. I’ve been doing this a long time; it takes a lot more than that to shake me. I shot back a teethy smirk. Looking down at my teeth his face screwed, “You disgusting—” Jesus Christ! I’ve got to get whatever is stuck in my teeth out. The even larger security guard shouts out from behind me, “Sir, you lost the game; now move on. Step away from the table.” Usually these things get worse, but this guy surprisingly moved on. Lots of bark, no bite.
After collecting my winnings, now it was time to handle whatever was stuck in my teeth. Feeling around in my mouth with my tongue as I walked from the casino back to the room I felt nothing but the smooth ridges I’ve always known. Ya know, when I first started doing this, the walk from the casino area back to my room was my favorite part. I’d used to think about how crazy it was that I’d made 20,30, or 40 thousand in one night just playing cards. Nowadays I can’t help but feel like these walks feel lonely.
At the corner of the hall a woman crashes into me and she drops all of her bags, spilling everything onto the floor, “Oh my god I’m so sorry I didn’t—”, “No please it’s not your fault I shouldn’t have come around the corner so fast.” Items in hand we placed everything back into the bags and slipped into small talk. “Hey aren’t you the guy that won all that money in the casino? I have never seen someone win so much in just one game.” Recognition always seems to force a smirk out of me. But before I could respond, I notice her glance at my teeth and wince. These GODFORSAKEN teeth! Why can’t I feel anything stuck in my teeth anyway? And why hasn’t anyone said anything about it? Considering these damned looks I’ve been getting, I’d swear someone would have said something about it by now. I swear to God that chicken salad sandwich has done me no good! I respond, “Oh yeah, lucky night I guess.”, and we awkwardly parted ways. Each step closer to my room ratcheted up my frustration higher and higher. Luckily my room was only a couple of paces from the corner.
I arrive at room 737, because 777 was taken, and I reach for my wallet to get my key card out. Out of habit, I feel for the separated hard blocks of cash winnings lumped into my left jacket pocket. The reminder that I had won this much money briefly alleviated the frustration I was feeling about my teeth. By the way, always convert your chips into cash as soon as you win; the inconvenience of swapping back to chips quiets that little voice that tells you to risk it on quick flips at the blackjack table. Trust me, I’ve learned this the hard way. I mash the keycard onto the sensor, and I push through the heavy door into my room making sure to press it back closed and lock it shut. It often surprises people when I tell them I never get an expensive room on any of these boats. I remind folks that the goal is to keep the money I win. I load the cash into the standard safe to the left of the bed that everyone has in their room and, like I always do, I triple-check the lock on the safe. Many of days I feel more like these new-age machines than a human. I turn around and toss my jacket onto the queen-size bed in front of me and walk over to the desk on the right. Craning my neck to the left as I rest the phone on my shoulder, I mash the memorized phone number into the keypad.
“Hi there! You’ve reached Ida and it seems that I’m not near my phone to take your call. Leave a message if you’d like and I’ll call you back as soon as I can.”
Why did she have to go so soon? Living this life without her is too damn hard. She was the only woman I ever loved; the only one who could make me laugh till it hurt, and cry till I couldn’t. Even if I won every dollar in this goddamned world, I’d still forever walk this earth the biggest loser. I click the phone back onto the receiver and wipe some of the wetness from my eyes.
Three thunderous booms hit my door. An unusual silence flushes an uneasy feeling into my stomach. Through the peephole I see nothing but blackness. I unlock the door and it swings open, pushing me back into the room. “You think you can just take 30 thousand off of me and that be the end of it?” Before I can move a muscle all I see is a flash of skin and I’m on the ground. It’s like the lights shut off for a brief moment and came back on again; my legs are like wet noodles fighting to stand upright and sharp high-pitched ringing is shrieking in my head. “WHAT IS THE CODE!?” I manage to get to my feet and with the daze from my eyes melting away I notice the giant has his back to me; the nincompoop thought he knocked me cold out. I rush him and stamp my foot at an angle onto his left knee. The behemoth shouts out in pain and tumbles onto the ground. I don’t know if I broke his leg or not but I can’t let him get up; I dive on top of him and we begin to struggle on the ground just to the left of the bed. During the swarm of arms moving I manage to grab his shirt and he makes the fatal mistake of trying to grab my arms. I yank my arms up and launch my head down into his face.
Again.
Again.
Again.
Standing up I look down and see that his face is illegible under a pool of blood and mangled bones.
No sooner than I noticed that I myself was covered in blood and that the door was still swung open did another much smaller man run in. “Sir are you okay? Oh my god, HELP! Someone come HELP!” I swipe my hand down my face and discover that I am also covered in blood. An intense pain shoots out from inside my mouth behind my top lip; damn it, a missing tooth. To my surprise, outside my room door I can see the woman I bumped into earlier being questioned by security. “WHERE IS MY HUSBAND?” is all I could, and all I needed to hear from their conversation. Medical professionals entered the room and loaded the massive man into a stretcher and while I watched, I noticed something small and white on the floor over by the desk. Sure enough, that was my tooth. And you wanna know something crazy? That piece of lettuce from the chicken salad sandwich was sure enough stuck on that tooth.