Walk Away

By Craig Settimo
8-25-06

I’m fat, bald and for the last three weeks unemployed. With all this extra time I grew a beard. I couldn’t even do that right. It turned out gray. I look Hemingway. I wish I had his money, instead I only inherited his love of cats. I don’t know if he even likes cats. I just know I saw his house in Key West and it was infested with cats. Maybe that’s why I haven’t been with a woman in months, my house is also infested with cats. And kittens. By all accounts I’m a loser.

I walk into the casino and drop $5 on red. I’ve been doing this since I was a kid. A bunch of us would head to Atlantic City and drop a quick bet. If it hit, we knew it would be a good weekend. It turns up black. I’m not that disappointed though. It’s actually Vinny and the Chaser’s tradition. The only tradition I have in a casino is losing all my money.

I sit down in the Sportsbook and grab a seat. It’s a few weeks until football season and I have no business being in here. I’ve lost my shirt in baseball and the Dream Team now plays for Argentina. My dad beat into my head a love of this country and I’ll never bet against us. I grab my free drink and head back to the casino floor. I’m not carded and I think it has to do with my beard. If I was carded, I’d pass. I’m pretty old.

The blackjack table is calling my name. I don’t want to be rude so I head over. I pull my wad of cash out and ask Monty the dealer to give me some chips. He kindly points to the $100 minimum needed to sit with him. I take my $84 and head to the table’s on the outside. I’m sitting away from the action and think I probably should have stayed home and played on-line. I glance back and see the dealer mocking me. That’s fine if I was him I’d make fun of myself as well. It’s easy to do.

I change my money and grab a seat. I drop a bet and draw double 7's. I have no idea what I’m supposed to do.

There’s a cute girl sitting next to me. I glance at her and shine a half-smile. I’m too embarrassed to ask for help. I’m too embarrassed to talk to her. I need to look away, she’s starting to make me sweat. I can feel it nearing it’s maturation process on my forehead.

I look at the dealer. He’s waiting for me.

"Split em?" I say aloud lacking the confidence that has followed me throughout my life.

They’re split and I draw a 4 and 6. Great more decisions.

I’m showing 11. Now I know what to do.

This one’s for you Trent; I match my bet and double-down.

I get a 6. A sigh enters my mouth and I move onto the next hand. I glance at the dealer’s hand. He’s showing a 14. I ask him to hit me. He tells me I have to tap the table for another card. I’m really getting nervous and don’t like the fact that he’s staring at me. I tap the table several times and he throws me a 3. That gives me a 16.

I look back at his cards and contemplate another hit. No don’t do it. You’re better than this. You stay in on weekends to play on-line and you’ve reached Jedi status on your website. Stand. I motion with my hand that I’m done betting.

The dealer flops his cards and he has 14. He takes another card. The sweat has swelled up and is beading on my forehead. If I had hair, it would catch it. I don’t have hair. This isn’t good. Come on now, get it together.

I glance at the girl and she smiles back. Good luck she tells me. With life or this hand? Because sweetheart I could use both right now. I didn’t actually say any of that. I just nodded in appreciation.

The dealer reveals his third nine. He’s got me. Wait no he doesn’t. This game is to 21. Dealer is showing 23. I beat him. I won. I won two hands. My guidance counselor was wrong. I’m not a born loser!

I’m smiling for the first time in months. I can get use to this. I can get use to being a winner. My winnings are pushed over to me. By my own accounts I’m a high roller. I ask the dealer if the pit boss is going to comp me food. He tells me that it usually takes more that $164 to get something for free.

The girl laughs and tells me I’m funny. Maybe I am funny. In middle-school I was voted class clown. I was home-schooled though. So I don’t think that counts.

I’m sitting in my own thoughts when I hear something. I look up.

It’s the girl and it appears she’s talking to me. I ask her if I took her chips by accident. She tells me I didn’t. She repeats herself and asks me if I want to join her for a drink at the bar. Me? I ask. Yes you. I tip the dealer and walk away. Best thing I’ve done all day. Walk away. Maybe, just maybe, I am Vinny for a day.

We head to the bar and I make eye-contact with Monty.

Whose mocking who now Monty? I’ve got a pocket full of cash, and a beautiful red-head on my arm. Wait is he still smirking at me? This can’t be going on. A rush of adrenaline hits my body and I grab the open seat. I tell my red-head to hold on a minute.

I pull out all my cash and drop it for Monty. The hands are dealt and I’m kind of wishing I had walked away.

I’ve got 12 and Monty’s showing a possible 17. My sweat-glands open up in no time and I’m drenched. Monty tells me 12's are like mother-in-laws. You want to hit them but you can’t.

Is he telling me not to hit the 12? Wait he’s doing that on purpose. Somehow he knows what cards are coming. Wait how is that? I’m confused.

I look at Monty and tell him to hit me. He tells me I have to motion with my hand. Geez have I not learned anything today?

I motion for another card.

It’s a King and I bust.

I shake my head at Monty and stand up. I’ve got plenty of credit cards and a date with a red-head. I turn around and she’s gone. Of course she is. If only I had walked away.

I glance back at Monty and tell him it’s not the last he’s seen of me. I don’t actually say that. I didn’t glance back. Monty scares me. I slither away and reach into my wallet. I grab my credit card and head to the ATM for a cash withdrawal. But first I stop at the Star Wars Slot Machine. I’m a sucker for advertising and Han Solo is calling my name.

It’s going to be a long night.

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