Monday July 29, 2013ed.
Golden Nugget- Main Gaming Floor
Atlantic City, New Jersey
1:18 PM Local Time
“Oh, excuse me!” Wendy Briese exclaimed as she narrowly avoided tripping a cocktail waitress carrying a tray full of drinks. She winced as the tray began to tilt to the side, reaching her hand out to help steady it if need be, but the woman had impeccable balance, and managed to right everything without spilling a single drop.
“No problem, ma’am!” the woman said in a cheery voice that Wendy could easily sense was somewhat forced. “No harm done!” And with that, the girl was briskly walking away, soon disappearing behind a row of slot machines.
Wendy sighed, looking around in dismay. Casino’s were hardly her favorite place in the world. It wasn’t that she hated gambling- it was surprisingly one of the few vices in the world she didn’t detest (so long as it was done in moderation, of course!). But casino’s were just so loud and bright and headache inducing with all the flashing lights, and the Golden Nugget was no exception. And of course, she had absolutely no idea where she was supposed to go.
Why in St. Patrick’s Sheleileigh did Pollaski drag her here, anyways?
So far, this entire trip to New Jersey had been a giant waste of time. After her surprisingly pleasant conversationw with Isabella, she had gotten to the gate only to discover that her flight had been delayed. By the time the flight landed in Philadelphia, and the cab that had been designated to take her to the track arrived in Millville, the race had already started, and was in it’s third lap.
Terrence hadn’t even made it that far, and Wendy sat down just in time to watch his car get pulled out of a ditch off of Turn 6.
Although he was unharmed, finishing dead last hadn’t done much for her husband’s disposition, especially since the horrendous result dropped him from second to sixth in the ARCA points standings. It had been a quiet, uncomfortable night in the WhirlyBirdz’ RV- all celebration over Wendy’s victory muted by the lousy crash in New Jersey. And the east to spend a day on the coast hadn’t been much more enjoyable, with the sudden flat tire and Terrence throwing a childish tantrum over discovering that they were going to spend a few days with her Aunt on the way back to Indianapolis.
And now instead of playing on the beach with her daughter, she was here in a casino because Pollaski had insisted she come here to the Poker Room on ‘urgent business’.
He better not need money or something, Wendy thought irritably. Her manager had received a CONSIDERABLE bonus for Untoppable, and if he had blown it all here...
She was tempted to turn around and march right back out the door, but instead she stopped another passing waitress, and received directions to her destination.
For several long minutes, she scanned the room, idly tapping her foot in frustration. Her manager was nowhere to be seen. If he had stood her up...
There was one man her eye kept going back to though- an overweight man wearing a Hawaiian shirt, a large panama hat, and sunglasses, with an unlit cigar clenched between his teeth. She could have sworn she saw Pollaski wearing that shirt a couple weeks ago, and the man was certainly bulky enough to...
Then the man dove forward, cradling a small pile of chips in his arms, and dragged them to him, laughing triumphantly as he did so.
Yup, it was Daniel Pollaski, alright.
Shaking her head in bemusement, she picked her way through the crowds surrounding the other tables, strolling up to the one her manager sat up. “Hey,” she said quietly, tapping him on the shoulder. Pollaski answered her by holding up his index finger, indicating she wait a moment. He then reached down, and tilted his hand up towards him. He barked in sarcastic laughter, and slid the cards forward, standing up. “Looks like all those Diet Cokes are getting to me, finally,” he said, stretching. He reached forward, picking up a red chip from his surprisingly sizeable stack, and tossing it to the dealer. “Guard my spot and my chips, will ya?”
“What’s with the getup?” Wendy asked, arching her eyebrows as Pollaski led her away from the table and out of the bustling room.
“You like it?” Pollaski asked, the cigar still in his teeth. “Saw the hat in the hotel souvenier shop.”
“And the cigar?” As far as Wendy knew, Pollaski had never smoked in his life, nor had he any plans to- he liked to joke that he’d done enough bad things to his heart without adding another.
“For show,” Pollaski said, grinning. “I couldn’t smoke it even if I really wanted to, though,” he said, pointing to a nearby NO SMOKING sign. “But it completes the ensemble,” he said, turning around and spreading his arms wide.
Wendy arched her eyebrows, her lip twitching. “You look like the worst Miami Vice villian ever. Please tell me you didn’t call me here just so I could admire your outfit.”
“Of course not!” Pollaski protested, scoffing in the process. “I called you here for training purposes.”
“Training, in a casino?” Wendy asked, scowling as her mind put two and two together. “Pollaski, No. I’m not going to rough someone up because you have gambling debts...”
“Seriously?” Pollaski scoffed again. “DId you SEE the pile of chips I just raked in? I’m ahead today, and that’s where I plan to end. No, no... today’s training is going to be a bit more of a... mental exercise.”
Wendy blinked, evidently a bit confused, and Pollaski interpreted that as a signal to continue.
“I’ve been doing some thinking about what you and I talked about on the flight up here yesterday,” Pollaski said, leaning against a nearby column. “You know, how you want to make a challenge for the FFW Championship, but don’t know the best way to do it without coming off like a Kat Stryfe.”
“Something along those lines,” Wendy assented, folding her arms over her chest.
“So we’re going to be doing a little experiment. An experiment in how to get what you want offered, and then to take it home.” He reached into his pocket, and pulled out a blue chip. “And this is what it is you’re after.”
Quick as lightning, Wendy reached out and snatched the chip out of Pollaski’s hand. “Oh, look. I win,” she dedpanned.
“Har har,” Pollaski said, grabbing Wendy’s arm and leading her back to the entrance to the Poker Room. He pointed at the table he had been sitting at, where a well dressed gentleman in a mustard colored suit sat. What was lacking for hair on his head was more than made up for by the brilliant walrus mustache under his nose, and Wendy’s eyebrows raised as she realized the man actually had a monocle. “See Colonel Mustard right there?”
“That’s his real name?”
It was evident that Pollaski was resisting the sudden urge to smack her. “No, his real name is Foster DePeeple. He’s the owner of the largest Diamond Mine in South Africa. Worth billions of dollars.”
“Why’s he playing at such a small table?” Wendy asked. It was mostly a guess- she doubted her manager had the resources to play a truly high stakes game, the kind she figured billionaires would play. Pollaski’s answer confirmed she was right.
“Because he’s a predator.” Pollaski said simply. “He likes to play for the massive ego stroke winning the little people’s money gives him.”
“How do you know that?” Wendy hissed.
“I’ve seen the type before,” Pollaski said. “The fact of the matter is, he’s the only decent fish at the table right now. None of the others have a clue what they’re doing. I’m the only other decent one, and even I’m not that good. So he just sits there, a fat cat eating each little mouse that comes along.”
“So what do you want me to do about it?”
“For as cocky and arrogant as he is... he’s one superstitious son of a bitch,” Pollaski responded. “Since I’ve started playing, he’s held a single $500 chip in his right hand. He’s tossed it in the pot from time to time, but always gets it back, and he makes sure it’s the exact same chip he picks up again. A good luck charm or something.”
Wendy couldn’t see the connection. “...And?”
“And you’re going to win it. That chip. Specifically”
Wendy laughed sardonically, rolling her eyes.“And how do you expect me to do that? I’ve barely ever played Texas Hold-Em. Everything I know is from listening to you and Terrence talk about it while watching TV. And you want me to skin your little shark out of his good-luck charm?”
“You know the basics, and you’re a smart girl.” Pollaski replied with a shrug. “You’ll be fine. And besides-” he grinned. “Now we’ll see if there is such a thing as beginner’s luck.”
“Alright,” Wendy said starting forward. With any luck, she’d either win the chip or go bust quickly, and then get out of here. At least Pollaski had built up a nice little stack for her to start with...
“You may want to hit the ATM first,” Pollaski said from behind her. “I’d say a couple grand would be a good buy in.”
“A couple gra-” Wendy choked, wheeling around. “Why can’t I use your chips!”
Pollaski burst out laughing as if Wendy had just said the dumbest thing possible. “Because those are MINE. I put my bonus money to good use. Your green ass isn’t going to wreck it.”
“So you expect me to shell out thousands of dollars trying to win a stupid poker chip worth a fraction of that?! Why dont’ I just offer him the money for the stupid chip instead!?”
“Because you have more pride than that. Now hurry along. I ain’t gonna be able to keep that seat open forever.”
Mumbling imprecations under her breath, she found an ATM, and put in her debit card, withdrawing pretty much her entire Unstoppable paycheck in one go. It was a colossal waste of money, especially considering the family was trying to fix the race track that was going to be plenty of times this amount. She should have just told her manager to bugger off, and left the casino. But some more adventerous, curious part of her was just dying to know what Pollaski was trying to prove with all this.
Sometimes she hated that side of her.
Pollaski had gathered up his own chips by the time she returned, and was explaining to the table that she was going to fill in for him. Wendy blushed slightly as she sat down, her throat tightening as she handed two thousand dollars to the dealer to buy in. She had a feeling that a couple of the players recognized her, although the South African man only licked his lips, and for a second, Wendy had the distinct feeling of a mouse about to be pounced on.
Predator, indeed.
Wendy’s mind raced as she tried to remember everything she ever learned about Texas Hold ‘Em poker as the cards were dealed out. The big blind of $100 was just to her right, so she was the first one to bet. Craning, she took a peek at her cards.
“OOH! A pair of Aces! ALL IN!” Wendy exclaimed, shoving her chips in. She was immediately greeted by groans and eight people immediately folding her hands. Behind her, she heard a smack that was evidently Pollaski trying to push his palm through his skull.
“Win to the... excited young lady in green.” The dealer said, staring at her as if she had just flatuated.
“I did it! I won!” Wendy exclaimed.
“Yeah... a whopping $150.” Pollaski groaned. “On the best deal in the game. And nowhere near what you’re trying to get.”
Wendy blushed crimson. “I shouldn’t have said what I had, should I have...”
Pollaski’s only response was a sigh. Wendy turned back ot the table, and cringed a little, as pretty much all her fellow players suddenly had facial expressions akin to the same ones the Power Trip would give her. “Sorry,” she whispered, as the cards were dealt.
This time she was on the big blind, so she went last, and she watched as everyone else either folded or matched her bet. She looked at her cards, and as soon as the man on the right folded, she smirked, and said again. “All-In.”
Pollaski groaned, and she watched as everyone folded- except one. DePeeple glared at her for just a second, then tossed the chip he was holding in, muttering “Call” in an accented voice. He then added enough chips to match her bet, and Wendy turned to flash a grin at Pollaski. This was going to be easy!
Pollaski, for his part, was refusing to so much as look at her.
“Flip your cards over, please.” The dealer said, and she gleefully turned hers face up, grinning.
“What the FUCK are you DOING?” Pollaski groaned, sounding on the verge of tears.
“Thirty-Eight!” Wendy protested. “Terrence’s number! That means it’s lucky! I’ll w-”
“Win to Mr. DePeeple with a pair of Kings.”
Wendy wheeled back around, and saw the billionaire taking all her chips away, making sure to pick up his lucky chip and put it back into his hand. She looked down at the table in front of her, where nothing remained. “Oh...” she said quietly.
“Excuse me a second,” Pollaski said quickly, grabbing Wendy’s arm, and jerking her away from the table. Wendy squawked in protest, as he dragged her halfway across the room, then spun her around to face him.
“You can NOT drag me like that!” Wendy hissed, color creeping up into her face. “I am NOT some-”
Pollaski sighed in resignation. “This is for your own good,” he said.
*SMACK!*
Wendy recoiled as his hand slammed into her left cheek, gingerly holding up her own hand to where the sting was. Her eye’s watered slightly. “What the FU-”
“SIR!” A steward came running over, looking apalled. “I’m going to have to ask you to leave!”
“Dude,” Pollaski replied, matter-of-factly. “She went all-in on three-eight off-suited on the big blind.”
There was a small pause, as the steward recoiled, then turned to Wendy-
*SMACK!*
-backhanding her across the other cheek.
“He’s right, that WAS for her own good,” the steward said, walking away.
“WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU PEOPLE!” Wendy cried, blinking her eyes rapidly as she rubbed her other cheek.
“A three and an eight of a different suit is like the second worst starting hand in hold ‘em,” Pollaski said, rubbing his eyes. “Never play it. Never ever ever ever ever ever ever! And NEVER go all in on it!”
“Oh...” Wendy said. But then her indignation returned. “You couldn’t have just TOLD me that?”
“Corporal punishment sends a MUCH better message,” Pollaski said, walking away. “Now go get some more money. Let’s try this again.”
ANOTHER two thousand dollars? Wendy balked, ready to just run out of the casino, but again, she found herself walking towards the ATM, albeit all the while imagining things she would do to Pollaski that she’d NEVER attempt during a sanctioned wrestling match.
It was going to be a long afternoon.
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