Luck

                                    Luck

Death could be a real asshole, especially when he was losing at cards.

“I can’t believe you sucked that out!”

I shrugged.  I’ll admit it was a bad beat; making a flush on the river to beat his set of Kings.  But he was the one who tried to get cute and slow play his pair.  A strong pre-flop bet and I would have folded my hearts.  Maybe.  I had kind of a hunch.

“Why do we even play with this guy?” Death asked, begging support from the other two players left in the game, Fate and Chaos.

Fate just gave him a pitying look over her half-moon glasses and went back to her knitting.  The current incarnation of Fate was a matronly woman in her sixties, fond of Muumuus.  I’m not sure why she plays, she folds every hand.  I guess she comes for the social interaction. Our jobs can get lonely.  She wore that “I knew it was going to happen this way” smirk of hers and shook her head causing her grey streaked hair to swing.  I didn’t buy it for a minute.  I’m a free will kind of guy.

“Come on, man!  You should know better  <click> than <click> that.  If he doesn’t fold early, get <click>the hell out!”

That was Chaos.  His tongue stud was new and he still couldn’t make a ‘th’ sound without it clicking against his teeth.  It had a large ball on either end.  It went with the lightning bolt through his nose, the several eyebrow rings, and the fluorescent pink Mohawk.  His clothes were pure punk; chains, Doc Martins, and the Anarchy t-shirt, carefully ripped of course.

“One of these days…,” Death hissed through clenched teeth.

“What?” I asked.  “One of these days what?  You’ll come to collect my soul?”

“Damn right!”

“Nice pun.  So what else is new?  We all gotta go sometime, but you have nothing to do with the schedule.  You’re just a glorified garbage man.”

That was a bit low, but he’d pissed me off.  His pudgy face flushed from red to purple.  Forget what you think you know about Death.  You know, the black robes, empty cowl, skeletal pointing fingers, it’s all just Hollywood bullshit.  The current guy looked like a lawyer.  Not your flashy ambulance chasing lawyer either, more like the less prosperous corporate drone who reads contracts all day.  He was middle aged, balding with a bad comb-over, and wore drab suits and black rimmed glasses.

“I don’t have to take this shit,” he spat.

“Considering you pushed all in, your night’s done anyway.”

“I think we’ve all had enough, don’t you?” Fate interjected diplomatically.

Chaos nodded agreement, still chuckling at Death, and began counting his chips.  Fate pulled her large tapestry handbag from under the table and started packing away her knitting.  There was one empty chair at the table.  It had been Despairs.  I had knocked the fat bastard out an hour earlier.  I hate that guy.

Death just stared at me.  I think he expected to intimidate people with that stare.  I just flashed my best smart ass smile and fingered my silver four leaf clover pendant as I stacked my chips into a tray.

As I watched, his eyes left mine and refocused on a spot behind me. The flush of anger in his face was replaced by something else entirely.  I scanned the table and the others seemed equally entranced.  Even staid Fate’s breathing quickened and she moistened her lips with her tongue.  I know that look.  Lust had arrived.

It’s hard to describe Lust.  I think she looks different to everyone.  To me she was all sensuous curves under a painted-on red cocktail dress just long enough to be legal, flowing red hair, full lips the same shade as the dress, and flashing emerald eyes.  Somehow, even in five inch stilettos, she managed to move like she was standing still as the world slowly rolled beneath her.

"About done baby?” she asked as she traced a finger across the back of my neck.  “I’d like to get a bite before the show.”

I had to swallow twice before I found my voice.  I could feel her grinning; she knew what that finger did to me.

“Yeah, we’re just folding up the tent.”

I had gotten us tickets to the new Cirque show at the Mirage, the one with all the water.  We play our game at the Golden Gate, on Fremont, old school downtown Vegas.  It will take a while to get to the strip.

I wondered again about the Vegas connection.  Was our presence here what made the place so raw and exciting?  Or was there some strange fault line of energies running through the desert that drew us all here?  Hard to say.  But when it came to the Primal Forces of human nature, Vegas distilled them down to their purest, most dangerous form.  It was a Meth lab of human emotions.

As I stood, I grabbed a stack of burgundy chips and idly rolled them from one hand to the other, just to keep my hands busy.  I learned that was a good idea if Lust was on your arm.

We stepped from the private poker room into the Casino floor and I paused to take in the ambiance.  Gambling was the great equalizer.  Every strata of humanity was represented here, each steadfastly ignoring the other in their single minded pursuit of a Jack Pot.  There were people in overalls and work boots who appeared barely above homelessness, yet they came and dropped their few dollars into the slots.  I saw a cadaverous old woman with a cigarette dangling from her thin lips grimly playing three machines at once.  There were shorts and t-shirts shoulder- to-shoulder with evening gowns and sport coats.  I inhaled the scent of booze and smoke and smiled.  If there was a cathedral dedicated to me, this was it.

We resumed our stroll towards the exit when Lust tapped her fingers on my forearm to get my attention.  She nodded towards the bar.  Despair was there, grinning evilly at me while patting the back of some poor schmuck with his head on bar.

"I hate the way he gloats over it,” she said.

“We all have our jobs to do, Babe.  Some are less pleasant than others, but…”  I shrugged.

“Can’t you do something?  I’m going to be thinking about that poor guy all night now.”

“Well, I can’t have that.”  I grinned evilly.  “I have very specific other things I want you to be thinking about.”

She gave me a smile that would have turned a regular human into a puddle of goo.  I managed not to fall down and steered her towards the bar.

Despair was not amused by our arrival.  I’d already annoyed him tonight and now I was stepping on his turf.

“Dude,” I said, leaning next to the distraught man.  “What’s the deal?”

“It’s gone,” was all he managed to get out.  He didn’t even lift his head.

“How much?"

“Forty grand.  Our life savings.”  He looked up now but his eyes weren’t really focused.  “I had a system.  It worked every time at home.”

“Imagine that,” I rolled my eyes at Lust.  “A system that failed.  I don’t think I’ve heard that one before.”

She crossed her arms and gave me an impatient stare.

“OK, man, this is what I want you to do.”  I dropped two of the chips I’d been carrying on the bar.  “Take these to the last Roulette table in the line, the one against the wall.” I nodded in that direction.

“The last table?” He sounded groggy.  I wondered how much he had to drink.

“Focus!  The last table.  Got it?”

“Okay.”

“Put them on twenty six black.”

“But…”

“Trust me, I have a hunch.”

“Never doubt his hunches, honey,” Lust added.  He looked at her for the first time.  I knew she must have dialed down the intensity because he looked back after only a moment of ogling.

"The last table, twenty six black.  Why not?  What do I have to lose?”  He slipped off the stool and moved away without a backwards glance.

“How much are those worth?” she asked, nodding at the remaining chips.

“A thousand each.”

“And what does it pay if you get the exact number?”

“Thirty five to one.”

“So, he’s going to win seventy thousand.”

“Never know.  Could happen.”  I watched him vanish into the crowd.  “ Let’s get out of here.”  I avoided making eye contact with Despair.  He had every right to be pissed about this one.

As we exited the front doors of the casino a white stretch limo pulled up.  The doorman rushed to open the back door and two couples climbed out.  The guys looked Middle Eastern and were dressed GQ perfect.  The girls were the kind of pretty you had to pay for, one way or another.  Tall and lanky, they unfolded themselves from the back of the car like insects emerging from a cocoon and strutted into the casino on the arms of their dates.

“Isn’t that convenient?” I asked with mock surprise.  “An empty limo just happens to be parked right in front of us?”

“Convenient, or lucky?” she asked with a smile as we climbed in.

“That was a nice thing you did back there.  Thank you.”

“Don’t get all mushy on me.  There’s no guarantee he’ll leave with any of it.  He could stay until he loses it all and end up back at the bar with Despair.  I’m Luck, not Wisdom.”

“Speaking of,” she said after a moment as the Limo pulled into traffic.  “Where is Wisdom?  I haven’t seen him around in a while.”

“I got an email from him.”  I flashed my Blackberry.  “He’s vacationing in the Caymans.    So, what’ll it be?”  I spilled the remaining chips from one hand to the next with an exaggerated flare.

“Steak or Lobster?”