Up in Smoke Read Free

savings account over at the Credit Union. I slid it through the card reader.
    The screen read, Balance: $11,000 .
    I sighed as I went through the menus and thought about the last three years. I’ve wasted almost seventy thousand dollars on poker at this blasted casino. Mostly competitions, but each time I played, I was filled with regret. It was never enough to stop me, though.
    This was my soul crushing secret. I, Rick Alderman, was addicted to gambling. I had singlehandedly cut our savings and my inheritance by more than half because of my inability to tell myself No .
    If Susan knew the truth, there was no doubt in my mind that it’d ruin our relationship—our whole marriage. She adored me and thought I was incapable of wrongdoing . . . well, outside of leaving my socks turned inside-out and my boots on the carpet. After thirty years of marriage, with its ups and downs, blessings and failures, this would be the one thing we couldn’t bounce back from, and I knew it. But even knowing that didn’t stop me. I justified my sin. After all, I had worked for a portion of that money, and the remainder was from my inheritance.
    The ATM did its part and spat out the five hundred dollars I told it to. This time I’ll win , I thought to myself as I turned and headed back to the same poker table. Another way I justified my behavior was by thinking that if I could get on a good winning streak, I could earn all that money back and she’d never have to know. I would never have to break her heart.
    Arriving back at the table, I was pleased to see that Robert was still there.
    “Welcome back, Blaze,” the kid said, grinning from across the table as he rolled a poker chip between his fingers on one hand.
    The corner of my mouth hinted at a smile as I pulled the chips Joe gave me over to my spot on the table. I had been coming to Joe’s table for years. He was really the only one who knew the real state of my addiction. “I came to take my money back, plus yours,” I said to Robert.
    “Confident,” the kid replied. He looked over at the cowboy as he continued, “Larry here was telling me that you played in the Horseshoe Tournament a while back.”
    “You heard right. I placed fourth, right outside of the bubble for a prize. Didn’t earn a dime.” My words were heavy as I thought about the bad beat I had in the tournament.
    “That ain’t right,” the kid replied as Joe began dealing us cards. I favored Joe the most out of all of the dealers at North Bend Casino because he was quiet, yet always kind and respectful. He didn’t put up with the obnoxious drunks or jerks either. He wasn’t like the other dealers who would take anyone inebriated just so they could make a few extra bucks in tips.
    “It happens. The tourney only paid out the top three spots. I laughed a little as I continued, “Sometimes that’s just how the cards fall.”
    “Yeah.” As he looked at his cards, I took note of his lack of an earbud. Wasn’t sure if he forgot or if it was because we were chatting.
    He raised. This time, it was $100. Still no earbud.
    Peeking at my cards, I saw that I had a pair of aces—hearts and spades. There wasn’t a hand that I hated more. I was never able to win with them, but I always felt an obsessive need to play them.
    “Call,” I said, tossing my chip into the middle of the table.
    The flop came. It was a two of hearts, two of clubs and a queen of hearts.
    The kid raised another hundred dollars’ worth of chips. Then he grabbed his earbud that he hadn’t had in and placed it into his ear. That’s his tell , I thought to myself. He’s bluffing. The kid focuses more on the music playing in his ear when he doesn’t have anything. How did I not notice it before?
    “Raise,” I said. Tossing in the original hundred to call his, I followed it with another hundred dollars.
    He smiled at me and raised again, this time forcing me to go all-in.
    Everything told me he was lying. He was pot committed and trying to