The dealer looked paler than before. That twitch in his left cheek returned. He was sweating. His gloved hand trembled just slightly, but enough for me to clock it.
He spun again. The room around us held its breath. Cards shuffled from distant tables. Cocktail waitresses floated past with trays of overpriced fantasy. Somewhere, a jackpot bell rang, but it sounded like a child’s toy in comparison to this moment.
The ball danced.
Slowed.
Black 17.
Mylene squealed, doing a little shimmy of fake surprise. “Oh my god, did I really just—”
The croupier cleared his throat. “Winner.”
Jhing Jhing slapped the table. “Buy me a yacht!”
Laughter erupted. From us, and—begrudgingly—from the men watching. A few clapped. Some were leaning forward now. Others weren’t smiling anymore. Their chips sat
