Undercover Poker Party, Part 7

Marc watched as Sinead returned to the bar and her new acquaintance, the hockey player’s partner. For just a moment he mused at what it might have been like to have them both in his bed - the other woman was certainly attractive and seemed to be a spirited flirt as she welcomed Sinead back with a wink and a playful pat on the hip. But, for all that Marc knew that he was something of a deviant, he also wasn’t the kind of man who would ever consider approaching someone who was clearly engaged in some sort of relationship.

Which made the actions of the man trying to horn in on Sinead all the more despicable to him.

Keeping an eye on Sinead out of the corner of his eye, Marc paid the small blind for his next hand and then received his cards. A seven of spades and a two of diamonds wasn’t worth anything, so he folded quietly at the first opportunity. The action at the table was slow to develop this time, with Susan slow-playing her bets as she eyed the other players from across the table.

The Irishman wasn’t quite stepping over the line of propriety, but he was definitely pushing it. He was standing next to Sinead at the bar and Marc could tell that he was stopping himself from going so far as to put a hand on Sinead’s back, but otherwise was putting ‘the moves’ on both Sinead and her friend. Marc wasn’t entirely sure what the man was thinking, other than the fact that he must have been thinking with his dick. It was the only reasonable explanation other than that the man felt ‘untouchable’ for some reason. Maybe because Marc wasn’t a known criminal element, and neither was the hockey player?

Susan took in a small victory at the end of the hand, refilling her chip pool, and another hand was dealt out. This time Marc had pocket 10s so he stayed in, and was slightly more distracted as he had to pay attention. By the end of the hand, he ended up with two pairs, not awful by any means, but the ferocity of the hockey player and the Jamaican allowed him to realise that at least one of them must have had the potential straight that was showing if not something more. He folded and escaped from the betting before it skyrocketed. When he looked back over at the bar he saw Sinead shoving the Irishman’s hand from her forearm and her quietly scolding him.

Marc cleared his throat, looking over at the two Italian gentlemen at his table. He didn’t really know much about ‘the Mafia’ beyond pop culture references and was unsure if his partial watch-through of The Sopranos really gave him any insight at all into how the Toronto Mafia operated, but he wasn’t about to take a blind risk without checking. “Excuse me,” he said once he had the attention of both men. “I believe the blond Irishman came with the two of you? He seems to be agitating my companion.”

One of them just smirked at Marc. He was thin, with a severe face and nose that reminded Marc a little of a man he’d known growing up from Nice in southern France. The other, a more swarthy gentleman with thick black hair expertly coiffed on his head but also thick on his arms and knuckles. He frowned and looked over his shoulder at the bar, then called something sharp to the Irishman. Marc recognized that it was Italian, but it was so quick that he wasn’t able to put his rusty, and small, knowledge of the language to use. “Liam, tieni il cazzo nei pantaloni. Stai facendo incazzare i soldi facili.”

The Irishman looked over, giving an innocent look to his boss, or superior, or whatever the man was to him. Then, when the Italian turned back to the table, ‘Liam’ made a slight grimace before slowly turning his back to Sinead and her acquaintance, acting as if he hadn’t been flirting with the women at all.

“My apologies,” the swarthy Italian said curtly, nodding. Marc nodded back in thanks. The man had spoken in quick, fluent Italian but was also clearly Canadian-born and raised when he swapped to English. Marc had a feeling he must have spent a significant amount of time in Italy, which he assumed would make sense if the man was truly a member of the Mafia.

The game continued on, and while Marc had a couple of solid winning hands to bolster his chip expenditures he didn’t rake in any massive pots to put him back to his starting winnings. He wasn’t, however, fairing too poorly. Susan seemed to almost take pity on the businessman Paul Crane as she took him out of the action on a hand that Marc could have read from across the room. The man took it jovially, shaking the hockey player’s hand energetically and repeating that he’d been thrilled to meet the veteran of the game.

Other players were getting knocked off from the two other tables as well. Some stuck around, clearly enjoying the atmosphere and the free drinks, and Marc noted the hostess Rachel circulating between both the tables and the guests, while Victor paid specific attention to the players who were getting knocked out. Smoothing over frustrated feelings, or discussing ‘business?’ Marc thought.

Marc finally found another hand for himself that was worth pursuing, particularly since he’d been the big blind and had to chip in. The King and Queen of Diamonds sat on the table in front of him, and he ended up facing off with the thin Calabrian, the hockey player, and Susan. The flop gave Marc another two diamonds, though neither were the 10, Jack or Ace so a Royal Flush was out of the question. That still left him a possible Flush however if he could squeak out one more diamond from the turn or river. The betting accelerated, pausing at Susan before she called, and the pot ended up at $3,300 before the turn. The dealer expertly burned a card and then revealed the turn, a king of spades. By Marc’s quick math, it shouldn’t have helped anyone make a potential hand unless someone had pocket kings handing them a three-of-a-kind. Since he was holding a king himself, it wasn’t very likely someone else had the other two.

The hockey player backed out, passing the betting to the Italian, who took the initiative. Susan took a long moment to consider before matching, and Marc took his own moment to run calculations in his head while watching the thin man. In the end, Marc had to just go with his gut - he was risking a significant portion of his chips already and had to bank on a diamond being the final card for the river. It was almost impossible to know what the actual percentage chance of it being a diamond was considering all the other cards that had been dealt out and folded, plus the burned cards, but in the end, he could only plan so far.

And instinct had never truly led him astray before.

“Raise,” he said, quickly separating out the chip. “One thousand even.”

<U>Translations</U>

• Liam, tieni il cazzo nei pantaloni. Stai facendo incazzare i soldi facili. = Liam, keep your dick in your pants. You're pissing off easy money.

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