guards standing around the perimeter. A tiny sting of fear bites at my skin as I look at them. There's something about them that's downright ominous.
Don’t steal anything.
My palms sweaty, I lean my neck and gaze into the next room, which is significantly quieter. There must be at least five felt tables set up. Old men that I recognize as dealers are settled behind them, except for one. Men smoke and drink as they occasionally look back into the room. The poker tables draw me in, but I feel another tiny prick of fear as I watch them. There are small heaps of chips on the tables, and I feel a desperate pull to snatch one and add it to my pile of memorabilia: another trophy.
I've no desire for the drinks and food. I want to watch a game.
The players are older than us by a few decades. A man whose skin hangs off his neck looks at me.
“Come inside, sweetheart. Don’t be shy.”
I step into the room, leaving Jackie to search for his brother. Maria joins me, and I sigh with relief. The old man's smile is encouraging. I graze the felt tables and smile at the mounds of chips.
“What are you doing in here?” Maria whispers.
Like me, she feels the need to keep quiet.
“I’m going to watch their games. You can go back if you like.”
“I think I’ll mingle for a bit. See you later.”
I swallow hard when her warmth disappears from my side. The men in the gambling room ignore me as I browse the tables.
“I don’t understand,” a man wearing a three-piece suit booms. “Cesare said there would be five dealers.”
“Hey. Brought this for you.”
Jackie returns with a glass of champagne.
“Thanks.” I take it, trying not to ruin my makeup as I down the bubbly liquid.
I migrate toward the group of men, studying the rows of chips and cards, itching to get my hands on them.
Don’t!
A man in a charcoal suit blows out his cheeks, disappointed. “One of them called in sick.”
“Well, that’s fucking perfect,” says a second, irritated voice. “I invested a lot of money in this thing.”
I can deal.
I'm about to speak up, but something about them seems utterly forbidding. I want to hang in the background and watch.
“We have whales coming in from Wall Street,” he continues. “I can’t tell them we fucked up.”
“Adriana can deal.” Jackie’s loud voice booms out. “I’m Jackie, Frank Rizzuto’s brother. And this is Adriana. She’s an expert poker player.”
No, I’m not.
The group of hardened men glare at the interruption. My heart pounds at the menace dripping from them. As soon as they realize he’s talking about me, their anger fades into amusement.
Their disbelief makes me step forward. “Yeah, I am. I can deal for you. It’s no problem.”
They smile at me. Jerks.
“Sure.” A man in a navy suit rolls his eyes, his tone infuriatingly complacent. “Why don’t you join the women in the other room?”
I slide into an empty dealer seat and grab a deck of cards. I got into Columbia, asshole. Don’t you dare talk down to me.
I give them a small, polite smile. "I can do this."
Even I’m surprised at the confidence pouring from my voice.
Navy Suit crumbles. “Why not?”
“Cesare will be pissed.”
“We’ll watch the girl. If she sucks, we’ll take her out.” The forty-year-old looks at me with his eyebrows raised. He strikes me as a man who goes with the flow. Thin-rimmed spectacles sit on his long nose. “You know how to play Blackjack?”
I smile at him. “Of course.”
“My name is Paulie. Shout at me if you need anything.”
Behind him, Jackie frowns at me, but there’s no time to talk. Men filter into the room as dealers settle into their places. Suddenly, there's a crowd around my table.
My hands tremble as I shuffle cards.
A man in his fifties sits across from me. His admiring gaze makes my face hot. None of them seem perturbed that I'm the only female dealer. The fight over seats at my table suggests otherwise. The game begins, and I deal, entertaining myself by counting cards. The first game ends with a win for the house.
Paulie breathes down my neck as he makes sure I'm not screwing up the game, relaxing as the games progress without incident. The man who smiled at me wins, and he tosses me a chip.
Stunned, I grab it. A tip?
The guys start to loosen up. Cigar smoke furls around the table, choking the air. A crowd from the other room filters in to watch.