Pokergeist Read Free Page B

In fact, he was drowning. He heard laughter. It was familiar. He looked around frantically to see who was laughing at him. The pain started in his chest and radiated to his shoulders, clamping around his jawline. His eyes dimmed.
    He felt Kevin’s chubby hand grip his shoulder. It hurt. The announcer’s voice came from far away. “Clutch…Clutch, are you OK?”
    No, he wanted to scream, but his own voice seemed foreign, the words coming out jumbled and thick. No, my dream died. He watched the room recede, the world strangely quiet, as the floor came up to meet his chin.
    The Ant turned to see the older man fall. Oh, he thought as he heard Clutch’s head connect with the floor. That’s gotta hurt. He turned to his adoring fans and pumped his fist into the air, the bracelet gripped in his clenched hand.
    Kevin struggled to get down on his knees. “Clutch…Clutch.” He shook the old man’s shoulder. His face drained of color. “Get an ambulance,” he screamed. He looked closely at Clutch. “Help…” he said sadly, knowing it was too late for an ambulance. They needed a hearse.

CHAPTER ONE
    One Year Later
     
    A gray haze hung over the Bellagio poker room, the thick air muffled with the sound of murmuring voices. Telly Martin leaned his face glumly into his palm, trying hard to control his expression. His dark hair needed a haircut, but that cost money, so he was going for a shaggy look, he told Gretchen. The longer hair complemented his high cheekbones and indigo eyes. He was trim—just a bit on the thinner side, he knew. He was watching, he’d told his mother a week ago. Watching his small change, he added to himself. There just wasn’t enough right now—the money only went so far. He’d bought into this game an hour ago. It was a cheap game, low limit, but that was about all he had left in his budget this week. He refused to take any more money from Gretchen, that was for sure. If this one didn’t pan out, he’d rethink the cab driver job Gretchen had suggested again last week. He didn’t want to do that, though. It would interfere with his games. Cab drivers put in long hours, had to be available for the events that went on all the time in Vegas, and he’d miss his chance to play in the International Series. All he had to do was come up with the ten grand. Ten grand. Telly sighed. Not much three years ago, and today an impossible dream. He had a good job in IT at one of the casinos. Worked the computers in the communications department. It was boring but steady. He’d bought a nice house, Gretchen had moved in, and he had planned to marry her that spring. Then the casino had been bought. The purchaser had an existing IT department. Telly was redundant, they’d told him. He didn’t feel redundant— irrelevant, maybe; redundant, definitely not, he thought hotly. He was one of a kind, he knew. He was the only one in the department who always brought in doughnuts on Tuesday. How could that be viewed as redundant? Didn’t he organize the yearly softball game that raised money for the Children’s Cancer Society? Who was doing that now? he wanted to know. He had created the Seniors Glee Club, arranging for a local nursing home to have entertainers from the casino’s show come and sing with the residents. That program was laying an egg, he’d heard. They didn’t have anyone on staff to keep up with it. But Telly was redundant, unnecessary, and currently unemployed.
    “Today, Telly,” Hamdi, the dealer, formerly from Cairo (or so his nametag informed them), pointed to the cards in the middle of the baize. “It’s your bet, sur .” His hometown accent drew out the vowels, confirming his Egyptian heritage.
    Telly looked up at Hamdi, smiling. “Like it here, Hamdi?” Playing at the casino was nothing like a home game. There was no repartee, and socializing was frowned upon. He thought being a professional poker player would be…well…more fun. It wasn’t. The tables were tense, with a distinctly