The basement of the Lucky Star Casino smelled like burnt popcorn and regret. Marcus sat at the poker table, his knee bouncing. It was 8 PM on the second day, and he'd only won $300—nowhere near the $10,000 he needed. Claire had promised to meet him here, but she was 20 minutes late.
The dealer, a guy named Tony with a gold tooth, dealt the cards. Marcus flipped his over: 9 of clubs and 3 of diamonds. Garbage. He was about to fold when Claire slipped into the seat next to him, still in her server uniform. "Hold on," she whispered, sliding a napkin over. On it, she'd drawn a tiny camera with a line through it—blind spot. "Wait for the turn. I'll distract Tony."
Marcus nodded, his heart racing. The flop came: 9 of hearts, 5 of spades, 2 of clubs. He had a pair of 9s. The guy across from him, a biker with a beard, bet $50. Marcus hesitated, then looked at Claire. She nodded. He called.
The turn was a 9 of diamonds—three of a kind. The biker cursed, then bet $100. Marcus's hands shook. He had $250 left. He looked at Claire again. She mouthed, "All in."
Marcus pushed his chips forward. "All in."
The biker stared at him, then folded. Marcus won. He pulled the $200 in chips toward him, his hands still shaking. "How did you know he'd fold?"
Claire grinned, pulling a crumpled notebook from her backpack. "My dad's notes. Bikers hate losing more than they love winning. He had a pair of 5s—he wasn't gonna risk it." She flipped the notebook open. The pages were filled with handwriting—notes on players, their tells, the casino's layout. "He was investigating Wolf. Said this place is a front for money laundering."
Marcus looked at the notebook, then at Claire. "Why me? Why not go to the cops?"
Claire's smile faded. "The cops think my dad's dirty. He went undercover, and no one heard from him. I think Wolf has him. And your uncle—he's involved. Look." She pointed to a photo tucked in the notebook. It was Claire's dad, a tall man with a scar on his wrist, standing next to Raymond. They were in front of the Lucky Star.
Marcus's throat tightened. He thought of Raymond's late nights, his beer-fueled rants about "owing Wolf." "I'll help you find your dad," he said. "But you have to help me win the rest of the money. Wolf's men will be back tomorrow."
Claire nodded. She flipped to a page in the notebook, marked with a star. "The men's bathroom has a blind spot—no cameras. If you need to switch a card, go there. And Tony—the dealer—he's got a thing for cherry Coke. I'll bring him one every 15 minutes. He'll be too busy staring at me to watch you."
They spent the next hour playing. Marcus won another $400, thanks to Claire's tips. When he folded a bad hand, she'd point out who was bluffing. When he had a good hand, she'd distract the other players by "accidentally" spilling water. By 10 PM, he had $900.
"Not bad for a beginner," Claire said, as they walked out of the casino. The alley was dark, lit only by a flickering streetlight. "Tomorrow, we go bigger. There's a high-stakes game at 8 PM—Wolf's guys play there. If you win that, you'll get the rest of the money."
Marcus nodded, but his stomach twisted. He thought of Raymond's warning—cheating's for amateurs. "What if I get caught?"
Claire stopped, turning to him. Her eyes were serious. "Then we run. But we can't let Wolf win. For my dad. For your mom." She pulled a pack of gum from her pocket, offering him a piece. "My dad used to say, 'The best players don't just play the cards—they play the people.' You're good at that. I saw how you read the biker."
Marcus took the gum, popping it into his mouth. Minty, sharp. "Thanks. For the tips. And the napkin."
Claire smiled, small and quick. "Don't mention it. Tomorrow, wear something dark. And bring the rubber band—for the card trick." She started to walk away, then turned back. "Oh, and Marcus? Don't trust the guy in the red hoodie. My dad's notes say he's Wolf's enforcer."
Marcus watched her go, then pulled the rubber band from his pocket—Raymond had given it to him that morning. He wrapped it around his wrist, feeling the plastic dig into his skin. Tomorrow was the last day. He had to win.
When he got back to his mom's apartment, she was still up, waiting by the door. "Where were you?" she asked, her voice tight.
"Studying. With a friend," Marcus said, lying. He pulled the $900 from his pocket. "I won this. At a… trivia night. For school."
His mom stared at the money, then at him. She didn't believe him, but she didn't ask. She just hugged him. "Be careful, Marcus. This city is not kind."
Marcus hugged her back, smelling the ginger in her hair. "I will, Mom. I promise."
But as he lay in bed that night, he thought of Claire's dad, of Raymond's debt, of Wolf's tattoo. He knew—careful wasn't going to be enough. He had to be good.
He pulled out the deck of cards Raymond had given him, flipping them between his fingers. One by one, he practiced slipping a card up his sleeve. By midnight, he could do it without looking.
Tomorrow, he'd play the game. And he'd win.