Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 73556 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 368(@200wpm)___ 294(@250wpm)___ 245(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73556 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 368(@200wpm)___ 294(@250wpm)___ 245(@300wpm)
“Right.” Roman tossed his cigar ashes inside the can. Outside the office window that gave a view of the parking lot, he saw the sky was overcast. Something dark loomed above them, growing. “I can count cards, and I’ve done so often. Blackjack. I can play most card games well, poker and blackjack being my specialties. I needed some money. Some real money.” He swept his hair out of his face, then took another drag of his cigar. “Not that two or three grand I was used to gettin’ on a good gambling day. So, I came up with a plan. I put all of my card game skills to work. I used my abilities such as my communication skills, magic tricks, and everything that I could to my advantage.”
“I remember you showin’ us magic tricks as kids. You were good. Real good. Even way back then. Didn’t Uncle Reeves teach you that shit?”
“Yup. He was a damn good thief and entertained his kids with the art of illusion for fun. We ain’t have no money to go to the movie theater or bowling alley. So, mama popped popcorn, made a big pitcher of punch, and baked cookies, and we sat around watchin’ Daddy do all kinds of cool shit in our own living room for free. As far as the casino situation though, people never saw it comin’. I used all the illusions in the book, and nobody saw shit, Lennox. Trust me. They tried. In these casinos, not only are there cameras everywhere, but there’s also moles, and of course the big guys watchin’ the tables from the back rooms.”
“Man, I don’t play poker or blackjack or any of that shit. Tell me what you did like you’re speakin’ to a ten-year-old.”
“This particular night, I played both games. I was able to match the dealer’s deck with my own. I had been studying this guy’s table for months.”
“How in the hell did you do that?”
“You’d have to see it to get the full gist, but basically, it’s a sleight of hand. I kept the cards I wanted in my sleeve. I knew what deck he was usin’, and I made sure I had it. The way I keep it in my sleeve though isn’t how most magicians do. My way is seamless. Nobody, and I mean nobody, can see it but me. I have practiced that one trick for years. Switched it out for a winnin’ hand. Now, the key was, I jumped from game to game, table to table. I pretended to be just havin’ a casual, good time. Typically, the cheaters will stay at one table, two max. They want to be somewhere they’re comfortable being. I didn’t do that. I’d even leave for a little while, eat or drink, take in a show, then come back.
“I was even intentionally losing some games on purpose so that I blended in even better. With my ability to count almost any cards, being perceptive, and pure desperation and determination, I made it happen. I walked into that casino with exactly ninety-eight dollars that I borrowed from some woman I’d been casually seeing. I turned it into three million in just a few hours.”
“Damn!”
“Exactly. I knew if I got caught, it would be over for me, so, it was scary, I’m not going to even lie, but at the time I felt that I had to do what I had to do. The next day, I gave that lady her money back, with interest. She didn’t know how much money I’d made at that casino—I didn’t tell anyone. I was asked to leave, or I probably would’ve made more. They do that when they can’t figure out how you keep winning, and they want you to go away.” Lennox gave a hearty belly laugh. “I got up and went home to my little shitty apartment. I immediately paid off all of my debts. I took care of some things for my mama, too. Helped my brothers out. My father at that moment was M.I.A. Found out later he was in a rehabilitation center and not allowed visitors. Court mandated. Anyway, still didn’t tell anyone about my windfall. Just pretended I had found a good side gig.
“After all the business was taken care of, I had a little fun. Bought a house, then flipped it. Made a big profit. I did that a few more times. A couple of new cars. Drank expensive liquor. Fucked beautiful, money-hungry women. Lived my best life. After a while, the thrill waned, and I got serious again. With the big dreams I had, I needed a good job. Nobody was going to take a guy who got kicked out of the Marines, had been damn near homeless, was a juvenile delinquent, and had no college degree seriously. Three million dollars starts dreams in this economy. It doesn’t keep those dreams coming indefinitely.”