The pokerplayer

 trigger warning: gambling.

Keith was an old-school gambler. He did not believe in modern and electronic gadgets. According to him, that only served to look chic, and posh. But that was the current situation in casinos these days. He cared little for games of chance and other rigged things. He thought that was nothing but inconvenient. He could be given a good poker game at any time, and Keith was happy.

He stood in the doorway of the Desert Casino, silhouetted against the gaudy lights flashing inside, and waited. Patiently.

Inside, would-be rich and a dozen real rich were amused, throwing money away. Fistfuls of money.

Keith just waited for some attention to be paid to him. He slid his hand into his pocket and stroked a thick roll of bills with his fingers. It was all he owned. He was here to double it. Or else...

The next morning, he was due fifty thousand dollars to Mr. Lee. The result of a mistake Keith made. So far, the only mistake he ever made.

He was a big gambler; he had ulcers and high blood pressure, but above all, he was a man who enjoyed his privileged calling. He loved poker and poker loved him. He won at poker.

-"Let's play a game." he heard a voice say behind him. "Just you and me."

Keith seemed to freeze: "I don't like your crappy games." he said to the man behind him. "You're a cheater. I'd rather play pinball."

-"Ah, you are just afraid of losing. Admit it." the man named Waldo grinned.

-"Afraid?" Keith repeated.

-"Yes!"

They sat down around a table and Keith watched, how Waldo cleaned him out. Thirty thousand credits were thrown away, and he had a debt to pay at noon the next day.

Keith did not have the money. He had two alternatives; he could scrape together the money somewhere, or he could take a greyhound to the back of beyond and hope to live.

But he would not, not for long anyway. So, he decided to try his best to get the money together. There was a way to do that: poker!

But the glory days of poker were all but over. There were two reasons for this: the advent of new gambling machines, and the fact that Keith was so good, that it simply did not pay to play against him. He played hard and he played mean. He did not lose often. Or at least, so he believed.

That is why he came to the Desert Casino, after all; to give the house some competition. He had every confidence in it.

After a few minutes, an immaculately dressed man approached and smiled courteously.

-"Sir?"

-"I'm looking for a poker game." Keith said calmly.

The impeccably dressed man frowned slightly, "I don't think so sir. Why don't you give the roulette table a try?"

-"No. "I want to play poker," Keith answered gruffly. Most of his credit notes had run out, so he could not take any chances tonight. He had to stick to his specialty.

-"I will see what I can do. Please wait here." the impeccably dressed man said and began to walk through the vast playroom. He muttered to a few people, but every time the response was the same. a shrug, a skittish look in Keith's direction, and then a quick and obvious shake of the head.

Usually, Keith could count on some crazy millionaire eager to beat him, but tonight no one wanted to play. 

The impeccably dressed man walked back to Keith:

-"I'm sorry sir, I couldn't advertise a game."

-"Poker!" Keith barked.

-"Perhaps you wouldn´t mind playing against one of our employees?" the impeccably dressed man asked. "Naturally, he'll be deployed by the house. Chances are you'll find him a worthy opponent."

Keith bit his lip. He needed the money more than anything. He had to have it. Would he manage to gain a large load from a casino operator?

-"Okay." growled Keith growled.

The impeccably dressed man led him to a small high-gloss card table at the back of the gaming room and gestured to a man waiting to the side.

-"Mr. Borg, this is Mr. Keith." the impeccably dressed man introduced the men to each other.

-"Hello." Said, Keith.

-"Nice to meet you." said the other. He had a soft voice, but his face was an expressionless mask. Keith smiled. He was always quick to estimate his opponents.

-" Chips?" a house girl asked. She was dressed in nothing more than a strip of something thin across her breasts and around her waist. She was carrying a tray full of chips. Keith casually handed her a hundred bills of credit and took his stack of chips. The girl handed him a deck of unopened cards.

Keith presented the cards to his opponent, who politely shook his head: "Go ahead!"

Methodically, Keith broke the seal, spilled out the cards, flipped the jokers aside, and rummaged through the deck. There were fifty-two. and he began to shake them.

The first few hands passed quickly. Mr. Borg was one of the quiet kind. A noncommittal player who seemed to have a huge reserve of composure. Keith did not find that surprising, after all, it was not the man’s own money with which he was playing.

The first deals were like warm-ups and Keith came out well. He felt the cards move in the right direction. He

began to wonder if he might be able to get away with a million. The casino had no limit.

On the fourth hand, Keith decided to experiment with some offensive techniques. Mr. Borg was dealing. Keith took out his cards and looked at them. Coolly he fanned out the cards and pushed a hundred credits to the center of the table. Mr. Borg sat looking at him expressionlessly:

-"I am with you." He said, "What have you got?"

Keith showed his hand: "Jack high. You?"

-"You beat me." Mr. Borg said dryly.

Keith did not quite get it. Was Mr. Borg bluffing? It was probably pure luck. On the next deal, Keith produced nothing and folded. Both men played very carefully.

The next deal held nothing in it again for Keith. He cursed inwardly. He decided to bluff. Since he did not get any information about his opponent's tactics, he pushed the bet to a thousand before calling.

-"Three sevens." Mr. Borg said.

-"You beat me." Keith sighed and lowered his hand.

-"Do you mind if I take a look?" Mr. Borg asked.

-"Yes!" Keith replied. He was surprised at this amateurish trick. It was of little use. Slowly Keith began to penetrate his opponent's mind. He asserted his genius for the game and Keith began to win.

By nine PM, Keith was stacked high enough to pay his debt and still have a good chunk of cash left. But Keith was not about to stop. That was not his way of playing.

He decided to go for a kill. He had Mr. Borg completely figured out. He was convinced that he could make a fortune. He kept raising the stakes. Mr. Borg kept right with him.

Without changing the expression on his face, Keith moved a few more credits to the center of the table. Then a few more, and a few more, until there were five thousand credits on the deal. Keith remained completely blank. That was the secret of poker: never point out anything to an opponent.

Borg was good, Keith thought, but he kept betraying himself: his right eyebrow quivered weakly when he bluffed.-"Now I have him." Keith thought as he looked at his full house. It would take quite a handful of cards to top that. And he was convinced that Mr. Borg was bluffing. Had to.

-"Seven thousand." Keith said.

-"Eight." Mr. Borg coughed.

-"Seven and a half." Keith replied.

-"Okay, what do you have?" Keith finally asked. Mr. Borg casually lowered his hand: "A jack and four queens."

Keith kept his composure. Mr. Borg did not bluff. Keith was very troubled inside. He kept staring at the queens.

As the game progressed and a few curious spectators gathered around the two. Keith played cautiously for a moment and was able to build up chips again. His profit rose again. He was now completely convinced that he had completely seen through Mr. Borg.

Unfortunately, it was not nearly as certain as Keith imagined.

Keith put fifty thousand on a straight flush. Mr. Borg added another hundred.

-"I’m with you." Keith said. Only three hands could beat him, and one of them would have to be a royal flush, but that did not seem likely. Moreover, Mr. Borg had pulled back the lower corner of his mouth. That was a dead giveaway.

The chips flew out like crazy. Keith watched his stack grow. In thirty years of poker, he had never been so sure he had it.

-"What are you holding?" Mr. Borg finally asked.

-"Straight flush, queen high." replied Keith as he began to reach for the chips.

-"What suit?" Mr. Borg asked in his soft voice. Keith's composure began to leave him.

-"C c clubs." he stammered.

-"Spades." Mr. Borg said sweetly and laid out his cards. That queen…. inclusive and consecutive. She branded in his flesh.

This is not right, Keith thought gloomily. He was annoyed that he had misjudged Mr. Borg's facial reaction.

Borg sat calmly without saying a word and continued to gobble down the chips. Keith felt like Mr. Borg had read his every move. How could he have been so naive? That Borg would not have driven this far if he did not know Keith did not have much in his hands. It was a strange sensation for him. He was used to seeing through his opponents' idiosyncrasies within three deals, which enabled him to play mercilessly from then on.

Keith looked at his stack of chips and counted them. Eight hundred worthless credits. Just enough to pay for a passage to nowhere. Keith slumped in his chair. The gambler in him insisted on continuing and trying to win after all. Gain what he needed to get out alive. But there was another part that told him it was pointless. It would be inevitable that he would lose his very last miserable penny. And he did not want that.

Keith stood up stiffly.

-"Have you had enough?" Mr. Borg asked.

-"I think so." mumbled Keith.

-"I didn't discourage you, did I?" Mr. Borg smiled. Keith shook his head, turned, and swept up his remaining chips. He cashed them in and walked out the door. He could not understand what just happened at that poker table. Did he meet his match? No, he was just overpowered.

After Keith left, the impeccably dressed man approached Mr. Borg, who was waiting patiently by the large pile of chips.

-"Did you clean him out?" he asked.

-"I left him a little." Mr. Borg smiled, "But he's the best player you've ever pitted me against."

-"He could not beat you. That is the main thing." said the impeccably dressed man. Mr. Borg laughed faintly:

-"He was at my mercy."

-"How about a drink?" the impeccably dressed man asked.

-"I must decline. My batteries are running empty. I will have to go recharge myself in the Cyberborg room."