Chapter 5: The Sting

This was too strange. I had to figure out what was going on.

I leaned back, pretending to stretch, eyes scanning the room for anything out of place. Years of small-town living had taught me to trust my gut, and right now, my gut was screaming.

Just then, I was dealt a pair of Kings. I bet $150, keeping my face blank, masking the excitement. This was the kind of hand that could change everything—if I played it right.

Danny checked his cards and folded, barely glancing before tossing them down, too fast, too casual.

Rick stared at me for a moment, then called $750. His eyes narrowed, and I could almost hear the gears turning. He slid his chips in with practiced ease, as if daring me to push back.

I thought, if he’s calling $750, his cards probably aren’t that strong. So I raised to $1,500, hoping to bluff him out. I counted out the bills, hands steady, voice cool. This was the move my cousin had taught me, years ago, at the kitchen table with a battered deck of Bicycle cards.

Rick didn’t rush to reveal his cards, but instead raised another $1,500. The room went quiet, all eyes on us. Rick’s grin was sharp, almost predatory.

A pair of Kings isn’t unbeatable. Reluctantly, I revealed my cards, sliding them face up, watching for any flicker of surprise on Rick’s face.

Unfortunately, Rick had a pair of Aces—just enough to beat me. But how was he so confident with just a pair of Aces? He flipped his cards with a flourish, that damn smirk never leaving his lips. The crowd murmured, some with sympathy, some with glee. I felt my fists clench under the table.

While shuffling the cards, I noticed that the cards Danny had folded were actually a pair of Jacks. I caught a glimpse as he gathered them up—Jacks, definitely strong enough to play. Yet he folded without a second thought. Suspicion twisted in my gut.

He didn’t dare follow a $150 bet with a pair of Jacks, but Rick bet all the way up to $1,500 with a pair of Aces and never hesitated. Clearly, they knew exactly what my cards were. It was too neat, too coordinated. My chest tightened with a mix of anger and dread.

No, I needed to change my approach. I took a deep breath, remembering something my cousin once said: “If you think the game’s rigged, change how you play.”

In the next round, I started playing with my cards held close to my chest, not letting anyone see. Rick and Danny folded immediately—three times in a row. The table went silent, and a few of the onlookers shifted uncomfortably. I could sense the tension building, as if I’d just upended the rules.

Turning around, I caught a few people behind me sneaking peeks at my cards. That’s when it hit me: There were people behind me signaling to Danny and Rick. I thought they were watching my face, but actually, they were watching for cues from behind.

I felt a cold chill run through me. It wasn’t magic or luck—it was plain old cheating, the kind you’d see in any backroom game from Jersey to Des Moines. I locked eyes with one of the spotters, who quickly looked away. It wasn’t a sophisticated trick, but it was simple and effective.

Now I understood why, year after year, folks who came home from working elsewhere always lost everything. Suddenly, all the old stories made sense—the empty bank accounts, the bitter fights, the families torn apart by one bad night at the table.

I coughed and said, "Rick, isn’t this a bit much? We’re all from the same town. Do you really have to cheat like this?" I said it loud enough for the whole room to hear, and for a second, even the music seemed to stop.

Rick smiled awkwardly and motioned for the people behind me to leave. They all scattered. He shrugged, playing innocent, but I saw the fear flash in his eyes. With a quick gesture, the guys behind me shuffled out, muttering excuses.

"Mike, it’s a misunderstanding. It’s not what you think. We’re all from the same place—how could I cheat you? But since you’re worried, I’ll have them leave. Now you can play in peace."

His words were smooth, but his voice wavered at the edges. I could tell he wasn’t used to being called out—at least, not in his own house.

I snorted and signaled for them to deal the cards. I made a show of cracking my knuckles, letting him know I was ready for a real game now.

Finally, I got a strong hand—two Aces as my first two cards. My pulse jumped. I felt a strange calm settle over me, like the eye of a storm. I glanced at my cousin, who gave me a tiny nod of encouragement.

I leaned over to peek at the third card, touched my Apple Watch, slammed my cards on the table, and without hesitation, tossed $1,500 onto the table. The chips hit the felt with a satisfying smack. I stared Rick down, daring him to cheat me now.

Now, the real game was about to begin. I stared Rick down, my pulse steady for the first time all night. One way or another, I was getting answers—and this time, the whole damn town was watching.