A Hater's Gamble (BxB)

TWO

"I've been wondering when you're going to see I'm not for sale."

M I L E S

I was looking over my shoulder, but this time I wasn't at school, I wasn't hiding from him. I was somewhere much more dangerous; a gambling club, at the East end of town, where even the rats strayed away. Every Tuesday and Friday—sometimes more—I would be here, playing my cards right to win cash. A great deal of it.

"Check or bet, boy," growled the bulky card dealer. "This isn't the playground." The table of men grumbled with laughter.

I remained in silence as I studied the demeanor of the three players that were in the game. Two of the three players wore sunglasses, undoubtedly to cover their expressions. The one who didn't, exerted a straight face. I couldn't make a decision.

Check or Bet.

I glanced at my cards that were held tightly in my hands. A ten of clubs and a Jack of hearts. The cards on the table were a ten of clubs, an Ace of spades, a three of spades and a five of hearts.

If I checked, I wouldn't have to pay more money, but my chance at scaring the other players into submission would be gone. I would miss my chance to take home the ginormous pot of money that glittered beside the dealer. I would have had to stay here longer, and I didn't like stay too late; that was when the real trouble started.

Other than a pair of tens, I had nothing to play with. If one of my opponents somehow had two pairs or even a flush, I would be finished if I placed a foolish bet.

I never liked to talk at the poker table. It added a sense of character to me, it was my best attempt at an intimidating tactic.

Even your intimidating tactic might not work this time," I thought to myself.

I gave myself a shake and stared blankly at the dealer while simultaneously pushing my pile of poker chips into the center. Gasps went around the the table and my heart leaped. My leg started to bounce nervously.

One of the men with sunglasses leaned back in his chair and looked from me to his cards.

"All in?," the dealer asked me incredulously.

Sometimes foolish things could achieve victory. Sometimes.

I nodded while keeping my face blank. I hoped I was radiating confidence. Inside, I was anything but.

The player without sunglasses shook his head and folded his cards. He waved a lazy hand in my direction. "Not taking that chance," he mumbled before getting up from his seat.

Yes. Yes. Yes.

The two men in sunglasses looked at their small pot of poker chips in front of them and frowned, they couldn't match me. One of them threw their cards harshly, and the other sighed in defeat, not wanting to be brave. He threw his cards too.

"You've got to be kidding me," the dealer howled. "You're going to let this kid take your money?," he scoffed, then shrugged.

I didn't smile. I didn't smile even though I landed myself nine-hundred dollars.

The dealer let out an exasperated sigh and counted the cash in front of me. He placed it into an envelope and handed it to me roughly. "Get out of here, boy, before you catch a black eye."

No need to be told twice.

I screeched my chair back and departed the gambling club swiftly. I pocketed the money and looked around, making sure no one was trailing me.

I let out a laugh, a real laugh. I felt victorious. I would've burst into a celebratory dance but there was plenty of time for that later, when I didn't feel as if I was being watched. I quickly made my way to the bus stop and rejoiced internally when it arrived.

Once I payed the bus driver, I picked a seat at the front. I leaned my head against the cold surface of the window, but I kept my eyes open, knowing to never keep nine-hundred dollars unattended.

The money wasn't for me, no. It was for my mother. She was as much an addict as my dad was before he left. I didn't miss him much, he wasn't worth missing. But my mom, she spent her money on drugs—opioids.

After all the constant ways I tried to convince her to get off of them, there was no changing her. I didn't blame her, at least not anymore; I understood that her body depended on the next morphine fix. So, instead of discouraging her, I helped her.

The money I gathered from gambling always went toward the monthly rent, and sometimes the water bill. My mom, of course, tried to shoo my money away, but even she couldn't resist the tempting offer.

She was too much of an addict to realize that underage gambling was illegal, and even if she did know, her craving for her drug was stronger than her intuition. My mom payed off the rest of the bills, but because of my help, it left her enough money to indulge in her drug.

I knew what I was doing was irresponsible, but what was I supposed to do? Watch as my mom struggled? I accepted things how they were, all that was left to do was to work around it.

The bus stopped at the North side of town. I exited the bus and threw my hood on, tucking my hands in my pockets. My face felt frozen. The rest of the way home, I envisioned the hot shower I was going to take.