The dealer was back to staring at me.
I stared back, now getting a little irritated at him. “What?”
“Do you want me to hit you?” he asked.
I looked at him aghast, wondering what rule I’d broken so badly I needed to be physically abused over it. “No, I don’t want you to hit me. Do you want me to hit you?” I stood up, ready to defend myself. This was the worst customer service I’d ever experienced in my entire life. He was probably pissed off that I had half the aces.
The old man put his hand on my arm. “He wants to know if you want another card. That’s a hit.”
All the fight club went out of me in a big wave, leaving behind humiliation in its wake. This was worse than losing toilet paper boobs in a wet t-shirt contest. I sat back on my stool, pulling my dress down my thighs a little to keep from exposing my panties. “Oh. Sorry about that. I apologize for threatening you. Yes, please, I’d like a card for both of them.”
“You need to give him a signal, not just words. Big Brother is watching,” said the old man, pointing to a security camera inside a black globe on the ceiling. “People who lose like to claim later they said stay instead of hit, so they want to see your intentions really clearly.”
I smacked a fist into my other hand. “Hit me.”
The dealer laughed and looked away for a second, like he was collecting himself.
The old man chuckled too. “Just tap your finger on the table. No need to punch anyone.”
“Oh.” Another rookie move. I probably should have been more embarrassed about it, but the cocktails were easing the sting. I tickled the table with my fingers, once near each card pile.
The dealer nodded and threw two cards down. Somehow he was able to flick them right to where they needed to be, even while his hands barely moved. He was like a magician. And he was staring at me again. It made me want to growl at him.
“Look at the cards,” said my helpful friend. “Try to get as close to twenty-one as you can.”
I lifted up the card on my right side. It was a king. “How much is this?”
“That’s ten. You need to stay.”
I smiled. “Oh, I plan on staying, believe me. I have to watch these chips ’til that cowboy guy gets back.”
“No, I mean, you have to tell the dealer that you don’t need anymore cards on that stack. Tell him you’re staying with a hand signal.”
“What’s the signal?” I asked.
The old man waved a flat palm across the table, like he was trying to make something levitate off it.
I copied his motion.
The dealer nodded and then looked at my next stack. I followed his gaze and then jumped a little in my seat, realizing I had to look at the cards myself. I picked them up and saw a two as my newest addition.
The old man frowned. “You can either stay or ask for a hit.”
“What should I do?” I felt the stress level rising. The glow from my earlier win was fading fast, and I hadn’t even had a chance to celebrate it properly yet. I was pretty sure a victory dance was called for in this situation, considering I’d just won like three hundred bucks. That’s an hour’s worth of my time as a lawyer and I’d done it in five minutes without having to do any legal research. No wonder people liked going to Vegas.
“I can’t tell you what you should do. Just consider that if the dealer busts, any hand that isn’t already busted is a winner.”
“Busted?”
“Over twenty one,” he clarified.
“Oh. Okay.” I counted up my card values. I had either thirteen or three. Neither sounded close enough to twenty one. “Okay, I want you to hit me.” I stared at the dealer, waiting for him to comply. He stared at me like I hadn’t just talked directly to him.
The old man nudged me. “Hand signals. Big brother. Remember?”
The guy to my right said nothing, but he demonstrated the table tickle for my benefit all the same.
I wiggled three of my fingers on the table, like I was tickling the felt too. The old man chuckled and the dealer smiled. “That works,” he said, throwing a card down on my second pile.
I lifted the corner. Five. That makes seven plus the eleven. Eighteen. I looked at the old man. “That looks pretty good to me.”
He nodded, all seriousness now. “Looks pretty good to me too.”
I waved my hand over the table. “I’m staying put, right here. Don’t hit me anymore. I’ve had enough hitting.”
I felt a presence behind me just moments before the heat of a large body standing very close came through my dress. I looked over my shoulder and saw the arresting good looks of the cowboy. I grinned, hoping my charm would keep him from being angry over the amount of money on the table.