I turn around in my chair and want to bounce my fucking head off the green felt, but I don’t.
My brothers are here, so I know all is gonna be okay. Regardless of how tonight goes, I am gonna get Hailey out of here safely and then drag her by that fucking hippie helmet to Detroit. The part of this that is rocking my world right now is that if she didn’t know it already, she knows now that win, lose, or draw, she is part of a family who has her back.
By round five, my table is cleared; I’ve taken all the motherfucking chips. I have never before felt the emotion of the game being all or nothing. But now, with my need to show a chick I can take care of her—not only can, but want to—I am feeling the electricity of the Vegas lights on steroids, and I’m not even on the Strip.
When I glance over at her, I see she is killing it, too. My brothers are playing it safe, but holding their own. My man Wheels is raking it in, looking like he is on top of the world, reminding me of myself when I first came here.
By round ten, I am waiting for my table to be filled with players again.
I glance around and notice there is, at the very least, half a million dollars in chips lying on the tables.
I look at Monte’s pile, and he has about a hundred Gs. However, my hippie-helmet-wearing, platinum-* little momma has twice as much.
As both of their tables are cleared, I watch my brothers fold.
They walk by, and Jagger pats my shoulder. “We’ll be right outside, man.”
Monte sees them, and his face hardens. Then I wink at him, and his face turns beet fucking red.
We’re finally down to the last two tables—and Hailey and Monte are at the same fucking one.
“Kill it, little momma,” I say from across the room, making her laugh.
“Can you tell the douche over there to shut the fuck up?” Monte sneers.
“Not against the rules to speak, is it?” I ask the dealer at my table.
“No, sir.” He tries not to laugh.
“Good.” I look across the room. “Hey, baby.” Hailey looks up and rolls her eyes, which turns me on. “When it’s just you and dipshit, make sure you put your stacks of chips in like I give it to you, not how he did.”
“You mother—” Monte starts to stand.
“If you leave the table during a hand, you forfeit,” the dealer at their table warns.
“You hear him, Monte? When I take your money, I want to have earned it,” Hailey says.
“Bitch, you’ve never earned shit in your life,” he snaps at her.
“Baby, you’ve got this. Now rock it,” I say, looking over my shoulder at her and giving her a wink.
She smiles. “I’ll rock it all right.”
“You know you’re getting me hard over here.”
“Oh, my God, would you shut up?” she says, laughing out loud, freely.
“Only if you ask me nicely.”
Her face turns pink as she looks down and shakes her head.
I am the last man standing at my table again. I have just under two hundred grand, and I can’t wait to take that motherfucker’s money.
I get up and walk to the bar to get a drink, eyeing the four people still left at her table. One is some guy who talks like he’s from Texas, with a ten-gallon hat and cowboy boots that look like they’ve never seen dirt. Then there’s my boy Wheels, plus Monte and Hailey.
Tex pushes all his chips in the middle, and Hailey’s eyes widen. Then I watch them brighten before she swallows hard and bites the inside of her lip. Her tell.
She knows she’s almost there. In bed, that’s my sign to go harder and as deep as she can take me to push her over the edge before she comes.
She lays her cards facedown, then looks up at me as she pushes all her chips in, and I adjust my semi-chub, clench my jaw, and mouth, “Hot as fuck.”
Monte folds and sits back.
The hand is played, the cards flipped, and my girl has four fucking aces.
“Damn, darlin’.” Tex’s jaw drops. “You just took all my money.”
She smiles. “Thank you.”
“No thanks needed; it’s a game. You won fair and square.” He stands up and walks to the door as Hailey looks at her chips.
She stands up. “I’d like to cash in.”
“Are you fucking kidding me? The game isn’t over, Hard Knocks. The bitch who left me would never walk out while there’s still something to be taken.”
“I didn’t take shit from you except for years and years of mental abuse, you piece of shit! What did I ever do to deserve the treatment you gave to me? What did—”
I walk over and take her hand. “Come on. He doesn’t deserve a second of your time, not one more fucking word from your lips, not anything.”
While she’s hugging me and crying, the owner of the bar brings over her cash. “Three hundred forty thousand dollars for a girl who calls herself ‘Hard Knocks.’ I don’t think that fits you anymore. After our cut, you have three hundred thirty-three thousand two hundred.”
“Give him three hundred thousand.” She points at Monte. “Now, you bastard, now I have paid you back for the seven years that you think I owe you. Tell me I have your word that you and I are even.”