Each player receives two cards, face up. The dealer gives himself one down, and one face up. It’s a six of spades. Perfect. I can teach her the rules better now.
“Here’s where the fun begins. Everyone at the table is guessing what the dealer’s card might be. A sixteen or lower means the dealer has to play another card. He can’t keep a hand below sixteen. Unless he has an ace, which would give him seventeen, then he’ll have to stick. For the dealer the ace is always eleven unless it would put him over twenty-one.”
One woman brushes her fingertips in front of her two cards. “She’s signaling to the dealer that she wants another card.” Harlow looks up at me and nods. I knew she would be a quick study.
Another player waves his hand over his cards. “He’s saying, ‘no more cards.’”
“What do you think the dealer has?” She quirks her red lips to one side in thought.
“No clue, but either way, he has to draw another card, unless he has an ace.”
We watch the dealer turn over his card. It’s a ten of hearts. Since he is sitting at a total of sixteen, he draws another card. It’s an eight of diamonds, making him go bust at twenty-four.
“Everyone at the table is still betting one, right?” Harlow asks me with a big grin. She gets it.
“Yes, pretty simple.” Not wanting her to overthink the fun night, I play down the odds. There’s a reason this place has blinking lights and free drinks. Losers abound.
We observe two more hands and Harlow is enthralled with the game, mesmerized by it. I tap her on the shoulder, breaking the table’s spell.
“Hey, remember me?” I ask. She laughs in a hushed manner.
“This game rocks,” she answers back, a sparkle in her eyes. I hope luck is in the air, because I would love to see her win. “Can I play now?”
“Sure, babe,” I say, and we find a table with a smaller group of players.
We sit side by side and Harlow bounces in her seat. “I am nervous and excited at the same time. You’ll help me, right?”
“I’ll be your unpaid consultant.” I wink and she throws her head back and laughs in pure joy. Seeing her like this is everything to me.
I lay a couple one hundred dollar bills on the felt-topped table. “One for each of us,” I instruct the dealer, tilting my head toward Harlow. The dealer is a woman, and that choice is on purpose. I want to avoid another distraction like the jerk at security. It’s official, I have gone caveman.
“You bet.” The dealer smiles wide at me. I glance at Harlow and see her frown. Maybe that smile was too wide and she’s going all cavewoman on me? I take her hand in mind and bring it to my lips.
“You’re here with me, and I’m yours alone for the night.” I turn to face the dealer. “My girlfriend,” I say with emphasis, “is new to the game, but I think she’ll be a quick learner.”
“Girlfriend?” Harlow whispers.
“What would you prefer?” I lean into her blond locks and let my words tickle her ears.
“Girlfriend works,” she breathes.
We play several rounds, and for the most part, she doesn’t need any help from me. Instead, it appears I might’ve needed her help.
“Well, I’m busted.” I watch the dealer’s quick hands pocket my chips.
“Really?” Harlow scans the felt in front of me. “So, I beat you, then?”
“Apparently, I am a better teacher than player.” I rise from my chair and stand behind Harlow. Putting my hands on her shoulders, I lean forward. “Mind if I watch over your shoulder?”
“Only if you whisper in my ear again.” She turns and smirks, and I continue to do as she asks.
Harlow wipes out after two more games, so we leave the Blackjack tables in pursuit of more fun. She drags me over to the slots, insisting on playing the penny ones. I shake my head at her silliness. Pennies? But I remember we are from two different worlds.
“This machine looks cool.” I cringe when she sits down at the Wheel of Fortune machine. She digs out her wallet and hands me a twenty. “My treat this time. Take a seat.” She pats the chair next to me, and I play along, because her smile tells me my plan worked.
At midnight, our luck runs out, kind of like Cinderella. Harlow played for a while on her original twenty dollars. Penny machines can stretch out the playing time, and make a person brain dead while doing it.
“Wanna come back again?” I pull out of the casino’s parking lot and see the garish neon sign in the rearview mirror, hoping she says no.
“Nah. I mean, I had a great time. I can at least say I’ve been to a casino, but I should’ve stopped while I was ahead. You know, at the Blackjack table.”
“When you can say that, you’re a real gambler.” I reach over and rustle her hair. It’s as soft as silk.
“You mean a true loser.”
“Yeah, that too.”
By the time we get back to the hotel room, I’m beat and ready to crash.