Exceptional She has a system but she's no cheat. Lady Black Jack by RodG      Two women sit at a deserted bar Contest Winner

On a very hot summer morning in 1961, Heidi Malone stepped off the down escalator into Harold's Club's boisterous casino. The refrigerated air blasting inwards from the floor vents by the front entrance caressed her damp brow. Suddenly, she caught a glimpse of the woman she'd spent hours carefully watching as she played black jack. That woman now sat alone in the alcove bar nearby. Heidi, who had only twenty minutes to grab a sandwich, changed her mind. Curiosity overpowered hunger. Purposely, she strode into the tiny nook toward the woman's table. Heidi stopped to face the woman, her fists soldered to black-clad hips. "You're cheating," she said in a low voice. "I can't prove it now . . . but I will." The woman, an attractive brunette in her early thirties, put her cocktail down and smiled at her accuser. "Do . . . do you deny it?" Heidi knew she shouldn't have confronted her without having evidence and witnesses around, but she'd always been an impulsive hothead. More than once she'd been reprimanded and/or denied promotion because she'd been "lippy" with a patron of the Club. Finally, the other woman spoke. "Let me buy you a drink . . . uh . . . Heidi." She peered at the brass name plate inches from her nose. "And please sit down." Heidi, too flummoxed to refuse, pulled out a chair and sat. She felt self-conscious as the other woman was petite, her make-up and complexion flawless, and her hair gleaming in the dull light. Heidi knew her own white shirt was sweat-stained and odiferous, the straw-textured chignon at the nape of her neck unraveling. The other woman held out a small ringless hand. "I am Annette Ambers . . ." Heidi merely nodded, her heat-swollen hands clasped in her lap. "Are you one of them?" the Ambers woman asked. Heidi raised two bushy eyebrows. "I'd assumed only men sat up there above the tables staring at us through those two-way mirrors. This morning a woman playing beside me grinned and pointed upwards. Then she lent me a scarf to cover up my cleavage. Oh . . . I stuck it in my purse when I came in here." Heidi envied the other woman's perfect smile as her own mouth was too wide, her front teeth chipped and uneven. A long-legged dark-haired waitress in a very short skirt appeared before them and grinned at Heidi. "Hi, Miss Malone. Nice to see you down here again. Can I get you somethin'?" Heidi's mouth softened into a reluctant smile. "Hi, Elena, it's good to see you, too. Bring me a Coke as I--I'm still on the clock." "Sure thing! And your friend?" "Another gin fizz," the friend said. "More fizz than gin this time, okay?" "No problemo!" Elena trooped off to the bar. Heidi stared briefly at Elena, then at her table mate for a long minute. "Yes, I'm one of those . . . uh . . . creatures upstairs who watch the players and the dealers. But I'm sure you know why we do that." Annette's smile widened. Tiny wrinkles appeared at the corners of her long-lashed brown eyes. "I do," she said, glancing at the main casino where the increasing din was impossible to ignore. Gamblers roved more and more freely, stopping briefly at banks of slot machines to yank their clanking handles. Often coins dropped noisily into the metal trays. A roulette wheel spun and cla-clapped like riffled cards slowly to a stop. Then a crap dealer barked, "Point is six to the roller. Hard ways beckons. Come on, shooters, don't be shy!" Now frowning, Annette turned back to stare at Heidi. "No one trusts anyone in this place, do they?" "Not true. We're just cautious," Heidi said. "Good thing you watch and don't play, Miss Malone. You have an obvious tel when you try to lie, biting the corner of your lower lip." The drinks arrived before Heidi could respond. Elena quickly set them on the table and moved on. "You're right," she said quietly, and sipped at her Coke. "When I became one of them upstairs, I was told what to say if people ever asked me what I do." She paused to peer at Elena now picking up another order at the bar. "Two years ago I was a pit boss over there--" she pointed at the main casino. "I'd dealt black jack at another club for five years before coming here where the pay's better. My daddy, a card sharp, taught me all the tricks. I can shuffle one-handed, palm cards, deal from anywhere in the deck, and fade a card to or from the table better than most magicians. But I'm honest . . . as you pointed out. So I was brought upstairs to stare through mirrors and spot those who aren't . . . like you, Miss Ambers." "Call me Annette, and let's be friends." Heidi's smoke gray eyes smoldered. "I'm not your friend. Can't be. You cheat." Suddenly, Annette reached for a bulky purse on the floor and threw it on the table. Unzipping its main compartment, she dumped out the contents. Two dozen or more five-dollar chips tumbled across the table's surface; then a banded roll of cash thumped against a ring of keys, a wallet, and two lipsticks. The scarf flopped out last. "I can tell you exactly how much money's there . . . my friend." Annette's sarcasm was as brittle as the tight smile that creased her face. "One hundred and twenty-five dollars in chips, another three hundred in bills. I started today with exactly one hundred dollars and played two hundred and thirty hands, losing ninety and winning a hundred and forty." Heidi gawked. "You call me a cheat. I'm not!" Annette's lips trembled. "I-I'm just smart." Heidi's stomach lurched. She'd been trained to handle many situations, but not this one. "What--what do you mean?" she asked. "Eight weeks ago I came to Reno by train from Chicago for a divorce. I brought my six-year-old daughter Shelley. Two weeks ago I became a divorcee and a single mom. No alimony, no child support, and no job. Do you know what that's like?" Heidi bobbed her head. "I think so. Divorced six years and have sole custody of my son. His dad's a deadbeat--" "But you have a job! I don't." When Heidi nodded, Annette's eyes went flat. "After my ex clubbed me senseless, I dragged myself out of a hospital and snuck home to get Shelley. We came here with nothing but the clothes on our backs. I hocked my ring for fifty bucks, left Shelley at the church which took us in, and hit the tables. I haven't won big, but enough to keep us going." "You've come here three or four times this week. I've watched you." A steely glint appeared in Heidi's eyes. "How's that being smart when the odds are against you in every game we've got?" Annette took a sip of her freshest drink. Then she gazed at Heidi as if she were a priest. "I'll share a secret if you promise not to turn me in." "Can't and you know why, Annette. I represent Harold's Club and we don't tolerate cheating." "I . . . am . . . not . . . cheating. I swear it." "Then why the need for a secret?" Annette spun her head to see if the alcove was still deserted. Then she leaned forward and whispered. "I'm a counter." "Wha--what's that?" "It's a trick I learned from a frat boy when I was still in college." Heidi scoffed. "You went to college yet have no job?" Annette glowered. "Yes. Northwestern, but I never graduated. Got my M-R-S instead." "So what do you count? What's the trick?" "Cards. I count every card in the deck . . . as they're dealt and played. I always know exactly how many aces, kings, deuces or whatever have been played and remain in the dealer's deck." "Not possible. A good dealer flips the cards and retrieves them too quickly." Annette smirked. "I told you I'm smart. My brain's faster . . . and I have a photographic memory." Annette spent the next five minutes carefully explaining her system. When she finished, Heidi sat back and sighed. "And you've made it work?" Annette nodded. "So why are you telling me your secret when you know I have to tell my bosses? If they discover what's up and that I knew it all along, I'm fired and no club in Nevada will hire me." Annette leaned forward again. "There's no law against what I'm doing . . . yet. But even so, these clubs have their own kind of vendetta I'm told. A black list of persona non gratas with names and photos sent around the state. I'm thinking we could both be on it by tomorrow if--" "Yeah . . . if." Annette sipped more of her drink, then spoke as she restuffed her purse. "Heidi, who am I hurting here? My winnings have been paltry. A guy on the crap table this morning won five thousand dollars in five minutes. Another hit a fifteen hundred dollar jackpot as I went to the ladies room. Don't you think someone else upstairs could catch on to what I'm doing . . .eventually? Just give me another day or two. Shelley and I hope to leave for Tahoe or Vegas. But not if that list beats us there." She stared for a moment at the woman across from her she sought to befriend. "Just don't watch me from up there anymore, or say a word. That's all I ask. Soon I'll be out of your life and--and you'll be a little wiser. Maybe what I've told you will help you spot a real thief. Get that promotion." Heidi gave her a wide-mouthed smile. "Annette, you're right. I'm a lousy liar, but I'm really good at two things." Annette lifteed her brows and waited. "Keeping secrets and staying loyal to . . . new friends." Annette flashed a huge smile, mouthed her thanks, and departed. Later, when Heidi was upstairs again, she avoided scrutinizing the black jack tables. Instead, she focused on the men and women rolling dice. Her ceaseless curiosity made her wonder which winners might have slipped a loaded pair onto the dark green felt. Writing Prompt Write a story using the premise two woman sit at an otherwise deserted bar. They share a secret. They strike up a friendship. Two women sit at a deserted bar Contest Winner Recognized Author Notes In the early 60s casinos became aware of a new system employed by black jack players--"counting cards." They countered by changing dealers and/or decks randomly. Many clubs even used threats to get the players to leave the casinos. TODAY COUNTING CARDS IS LEGAL. Anyone can learn the strategy by looking it up on the Internet. But casinos DO have a black list of such players and often ask "counters" to leave the premises and not come back. This they have a right to do. Reno built its reputation as being the BIGGEST LITTLE CITY IN THE WORLD by being a divorce mecca where anyone could obtain one by simply establishing residency for six weeks. Unfortunately, many of those divorces were not accepted in other states for a long time. Today the mirrors above the tables still exist, but the "watchers" are usually cameras. Security has tightened and everyone is considered a potential cheater. Artwork courtesy of Google images.

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