our practice sessions. "You're neither."
I couldn't have paid for the insurance anyhow, even if I'd wanted to. I had nothing else to bet.
Despite that, I held my breath as Justin peeled back the corner of his hole card to take a peek at it. For an instant, I thought he'd flip it over to show a ten or a face card, then sweep up the last of my money along with everyone else's bet. Instead, he put the card back down and kept playing.
"Card, sir?" That's what he said when he got to me.
Players in the zone – ones who are good at the game and are there to win – rarely speak, and the dealers don't talk to them. They don't need to. They used distinct and simple hand signs to show what they want. This makes it easy for the dealer to know exactly what they mean and for the eyes in the sky to keep track of it all.
When my turn came around, I'd kept my hands on the rail in front of me. I'd been trying to concentrate on the next card out of the shoe, and I'd forgotten to scratch the table to signal the dealer to hit me.
"You should split those," Bill said. "You always split Aces."
"I can't," I said. I nodded at the blank space on the green felt where my starting stake had once been.
"Would you care to purchase more chips, sir?" Justin asked.
I grimaced and shook my head.
Bill grabbed a short stack of chips from his pile and shoved them next to mine. I gaped at him. After all the crap he'd given me up until now, I figured he'd just let me go broke and then be stuck watching him win for the rest of the week.
"You can't bet on my hand," I said.
"It's a loan," Bill said. "Not a bet. Split them."
"Sure you're not just wasting your money? I can't pay that back if I lose."
Bill smiled. "So don't lose."
I pointed at the cards and asked the dealer to split them. Justin moved them apart, and I pushed Bill's chips over to one of the Aces, and my stack over to the other.
I stared at the plastic shoe and the first card sitting in it, the one the dealer would slip out of there and place next to my first Ace. I willed for it to come up a face card. I visualized the Jack of Hearts – and that's just what landed next to my Ace.
"Blackjack," Justin said. He reached into his tray of chips and put a stack of six green chips right next to mine.
The dealer's complete lack of enthusiasm did nothing to dampen mine. I wanted to jump up and let out a war whoop, but I refused to let a single success distract me. I still had another hand to win, and it was Bill's money riding on it, not mine. Somehow, that meant even more to me that I not lose it.
"Can I double down on that Ace?" I asked.
Justin nodded. I moved my the chips I'd just won from him over to double my bet on my remaining Ace. With the double down, I'd only be allowed a single extra card, but I only needed the one.
I stared at the deck and reached out with my mind again. I pictured the King of Diamonds, the One-Eyed King, the Man with the Axe.
The dealer reached for the shoe, drew a card, and flipped it over in front of me.
Hello, Your Majesty.
CHAPTER THREE
The night only got better from there. Bill and I were unstoppable. We made sure to lose enough hands so that no one would get suspicious of our incredible lucky streak, but we steadily raked in the cash. Over the course of an hour, we each turned our five-hundreddollar stakes into a little over two thousand dollars.
At the end of the hour, another dealer stepped up behind Justin, ready to take over for him right after the hand in which he reached the colored plastic card that represented the end of the shoe. We'd been tipping Justin steadily, and he'd even started smiling along with us.
"I think Justin's going to leave us," said Bill. "I'm not sure I can handle that."
"That's right!" I said. "He's our lucky dealer. If our luck's running out, maybe we should too."
"One last hand, gentlemen," Justin says,
I couldn't have paid for the insurance anyhow, even if I'd wanted to. I had nothing else to bet.
Despite that, I held my breath as Justin peeled back the corner of his hole card to take a peek at it. For an instant, I thought he'd flip it over to show a ten or a face card, then sweep up the last of my money along with everyone else's bet. Instead, he put the card back down and kept playing.
"Card, sir?" That's what he said when he got to me.
Players in the zone – ones who are good at the game and are there to win – rarely speak, and the dealers don't talk to them. They don't need to. They used distinct and simple hand signs to show what they want. This makes it easy for the dealer to know exactly what they mean and for the eyes in the sky to keep track of it all.
When my turn came around, I'd kept my hands on the rail in front of me. I'd been trying to concentrate on the next card out of the shoe, and I'd forgotten to scratch the table to signal the dealer to hit me.
"You should split those," Bill said. "You always split Aces."
"I can't," I said. I nodded at the blank space on the green felt where my starting stake had once been.
"Would you care to purchase more chips, sir?" Justin asked.
I grimaced and shook my head.
Bill grabbed a short stack of chips from his pile and shoved them next to mine. I gaped at him. After all the crap he'd given me up until now, I figured he'd just let me go broke and then be stuck watching him win for the rest of the week.
"You can't bet on my hand," I said.
"It's a loan," Bill said. "Not a bet. Split them."
"Sure you're not just wasting your money? I can't pay that back if I lose."
Bill smiled. "So don't lose."
I pointed at the cards and asked the dealer to split them. Justin moved them apart, and I pushed Bill's chips over to one of the Aces, and my stack over to the other.
I stared at the plastic shoe and the first card sitting in it, the one the dealer would slip out of there and place next to my first Ace. I willed for it to come up a face card. I visualized the Jack of Hearts – and that's just what landed next to my Ace.
"Blackjack," Justin said. He reached into his tray of chips and put a stack of six green chips right next to mine.
The dealer's complete lack of enthusiasm did nothing to dampen mine. I wanted to jump up and let out a war whoop, but I refused to let a single success distract me. I still had another hand to win, and it was Bill's money riding on it, not mine. Somehow, that meant even more to me that I not lose it.
"Can I double down on that Ace?" I asked.
Justin nodded. I moved my the chips I'd just won from him over to double my bet on my remaining Ace. With the double down, I'd only be allowed a single extra card, but I only needed the one.
I stared at the deck and reached out with my mind again. I pictured the King of Diamonds, the One-Eyed King, the Man with the Axe.
The dealer reached for the shoe, drew a card, and flipped it over in front of me.
Hello, Your Majesty.
CHAPTER THREE
The night only got better from there. Bill and I were unstoppable. We made sure to lose enough hands so that no one would get suspicious of our incredible lucky streak, but we steadily raked in the cash. Over the course of an hour, we each turned our five-hundreddollar stakes into a little over two thousand dollars.
At the end of the hour, another dealer stepped up behind Justin, ready to take over for him right after the hand in which he reached the colored plastic card that represented the end of the shoe. We'd been tipping Justin steadily, and he'd even started smiling along with us.
"I think Justin's going to leave us," said Bill. "I'm not sure I can handle that."
"That's right!" I said. "He's our lucky dealer. If our luck's running out, maybe we should too."
"One last hand, gentlemen," Justin says,
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