What Game Are You Playing?

Selena opened her eyes towards the ceiling, bearing witness to the hazy, warm glow that only fills a desert hotel room at two opposing points in the day.

She closed them.

Taking a deep inhale that extended down into her diaphragm, she opened her eyes again and made some movement on top of the covers. Clean and freshly laundered, they hugged the queen-sized bed in a crisp way that she could never get her own linens to do at home. This was one of the many things she loved about hotel rooms. The allure of a spick and span space, devoid of the responsibility to keeping it clean, and saturated by an emptiness that seemed to create endless possibilities, never ceased to call her name.

Checking the time, she began to lose sense of the disorientation that a post 4-hour drive nap provides. In the clear quiet of the room, she realized she was alone, which was not the case when she closed her eyes a few hours earlier.

“Got antsy. Went looking for trouble,” read a note that had been left on the nightstand next to the phone.

“Guess it’s my turn,” she thought to herself.

Wondering where the rest of her band had gotten to but not giving it too much thought, Selena sat up on the bed and ruffled her hair the way she does when she wakes up. Contemplating dinner, and if she had any desire for it, she looked to the side and closed her eyes one more time, as if desperately grasping for one more wink of sleep, then made the decision and commitment to get up and get her evening going. They had come to Vegas one night early. It was time once again to play another shitty bar off the Strip, and hope that this would be the one. This would be the show where they got discovered, the one that would put them on the map. The one that would get them out of their studio apartments and into actual recording studios. They would be able to return their clothes to their bedroom closets that were currently serving as isolation booths. Money had always been in high demand, and it seemed that a solid grip of funds would solve their business woes.

Their show wasn’t until tomorrow, and Selena wanted to make the most of her one free night in town.

It was as she coated her lashes with mascara that she decided exactly how she was going to spend her evening. She ordered room service and got ready to hit the floor of the casino. Grateful that her bandmates seemed to have found their own plans for the night, she put on a black dress that commanded attention but wasn’t over-the-top. Room service arrived.

She finished her meal in silence and sat in one of the hotel room chairs, looking out the window at the lights along the Strip. Lights that created a runway below, ready for anyone to land. She recalled many nights playing cards with her dad. How he taught her everything she needed to know to “win” the game. Lost in thought, she looked back on the multitude of maneuvers, strategies and tactics that had been engrained in her muscle memory, ensuring her win at nearly every game she sat down to. It had been a while, she had been focusing her efforts on more forthright ways of earning a living. She wondered if she still had “it.”

It was about 9:30 when she gathered a small purse, put on her heals and left the room for the night.

Selena stalked the floor nonchalantly. She chose a slot machine that allowed her to be an audience to the poker tables, and sat down. Playing the slots, she discreetly kept tabs on which players drank the most and who seemed to be permanent fixtures on the floor. She pondered which table to hit and mulled over her options to see which one she thought would yield the best results. By 11, only one table of players remained, when a seat opened up, as if it were made for her.

In the most unassuming way, she walked up to the table, “Um, can I play with you guys?”

A chorus of “Yeah! Sure, young lady, have a seat!” greeted her, as she knew it would.

Sliding into the faux leather chair, Selena noticed a little black notebook on the table, lying to the left of the player furthest away from her, who also appeared to be the most intoxicated. Every now and then, as if it assisted his thought process, he would put his left hand on the notebook and without opening it, lift only the edge of the mass of bound pages slightly with his thumb, and then force them back down, making a shuffling sound as if he were flipping through a flip book whose images could be seen making movements with each successive page.

“I’ve never really played poker before, only a few times with my brother. But it looked like y’all were having so much fun and you know, how often do I get to go to Vegas? You only live once, right?” Selena said ingenuously to the table.

“Well don’t worry honey, I’m sure you’ve got beginner’s luck on your side,” one of the men said kindly to her.

She smiled, attempting to remain as demure as she could, using their dulled senses to her advantage.

Calculated movements were hidden beneath her falsely nervous laughter; flashes of cards were laid out and then cyclically swept away; steadily she kept track of which cards had been played and which remained. Selena played, and she played, and she played. Just as she had been taught.

Two men had folded. She continued playing mediocre cards, good enough to keep her in the game; bad enough to hide what she was doing.

Another man folded. It was somewhere in the realm of midnight, or so it seemed, and the floor had mostly cleared out.

“Gosh I really must have beginner’s luck! I don’t know how I’ve been able to stay in this long,” she said.

The only other player remaining at the table was the man at the other end, the one with the highest blood alcohol content and the little black notebook whose pages he would shuffle intently.

The time had come for Selena to reveal her final hand. She had been keeping track, just as she had been taught, of which cards were used throughout the game. Knowing it was impossible for the man to have a better hand than her, she put down her Straight Flush, nine through the King of Diamonds.

The few remaining onlookers were stunned. The wholesome girl who had been running on the luck of a beginner had been playing more games than one that night.

Biting the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing, she began to open her mouth to say something, as the man with the little black notebook showed his cards.

A Royal Flush.

A rush of noise from the onlookers erupted. How could this have happened? She had kept track of every card played. Remembering that all the other Kings had been used. It was impossible, or so Selena had thought.

She lost. She failed her teacher and failed her dreams to put her band on the road to success. The pot had climbed to $20,000, which the man with the little black notebook and now a grin on his inebriated face, was collecting.

Selena got up from her seat and wandered around the floor for a bit, allowing herself to fall into a trance infused with the sounds of the casino. Dazed by disbelief, she decided it was time to go to bed. They still had the show to play tomorrow.

She began walking back up to her room when she spotted the man. The little black notebook man with the pages he would shuffle intently. He was stumbling down the hall towards the elevators that led to the rooms. He paused and leaned against the wall for support. Clearly at least Selena’s assessment of his level of intoxication had been correct, but it hadn’t impaired his card playing abilities like she thought it would. She paused, watching him, waiting for him to start moving again so she wouldn’t have to look her opponent in the face, when she noticed a thick, heavy envelope fall from his pocket. It landed on the floor with a slap, yet the notebook man took no notice. He pulled himself together as best he could and continued walking, or shambling, towards the elevators that led to the rooms.

Swiftly, she moved to follow in the footsteps of the man who beat her at her own game. Heart racing, she swooped down to gather the envelope. She didn’t need to open it to know what was inside.

Quickly and discreetly, Selena stashed the $20,000 in her purse. Regaining composure, she walked down the hall to the elevators that led to the rooms.