Copyright © 2010 David M. Dunn. All rights reserved. 

 luck, my father had this to say, ' a man's gotta make his own.' He wasn't much with words. I'm not really either. And on his advice I don't suppose either of us followed it. I guess if I had I wouldn't be standing here, listening to her yell, lecturing me at the top of her lungs about money and gambling and how I've done something with both of them that she's not particularly fond of.

'The best medication is self medication.' That's one of pop's that we could both stand behind. If it wasn't cigarettes, it was booze and if it weren't either, he was sleeping. We both seem to have been blessed with an oral fixation of the deadly variety. I pour myself some Scotch. I think she's getting mad but to tell you the truth I've stopped listening. I can't believe that dealer didn't bust.

Jesus, would you stop yelling. I can hardly hear myself think. I should have switched tables. Once it goes downhill… But that seat was hot. The second check wasn't such a great idea either.

Just shut up.

"Shut up!" I yell picking up the ashtray I made when I was seven and smashing it across her forehead. It didn't break. Neither did she. She didn't even stumble, but she isn’t facing me anymore. There are no tears. The yelling has stopped and for a moment I think maybe she really is a monster. She turns toward me and looks me in the eye. There's ash all over her face. There's no blood though. I was expecting blood.

"You son of a bitch," she comes at me. Ashtray still poised in the palm of my hand; I rear back for a repeat performance.

Bullseye.

***

"You back already Roger?" Daphne asks. Now she’s my kind of woman; always there when I need her, dispenses advice (now Roger how many times do I have to tell you not to split 8’s), consoles me when I’m down (you’ll make it up in the next round Roger.), and best of all, she sees me at my worst, and she still likes me.

"Rocky night at home," I tell her, "I needed to get out."

"Wife pissed again?" I nod. "Let’s see if we can’t turn your luck around." She hands me the yellow card used to cut the deck. Now, normally, I won’t cut them. I always lose. Always. But something about tonight, something about the way she’s looking at me, something about what I did at home makes me remember my father’s advice: a man’s gotta make his own luck. So I cut them.

I lose the first hand.

"Don’t look so down Roger the first hand is always the dealer’s." And she was right too. The first hand was the dealer’s but a large portion of the one’s after that were mine. I knew it was getting pretty early because they were starting to sell alcohol again. Right when the woman in the skirt asked me if she could get me anything to drink and I told her coffee, I took stock of my chips. A little over $1200. I had turned $300 into $1200, and I knew that this was only the beginning. I was making my own luck. I was in control.

Daphne winked at me and said, "unlucky for your wife, lucky for us."

"What do you mean?"

"I see it everyday, someone has bad luck and someone has good luck. Call it what you want; fate, balance, but your wife is at home alone because she made you mad and you’re here with me having all the luck, she must be having a rough night."

Daphne didn’t know the half of it.

She was talking to one of the pit bosses. He was looking at me and nodding. The thought crossed my mind that they might think I was counting cards, which is nothing short of laughable. Sure, I get the idea but they deal so fast. I can’t even pay enough attention to even realize Daphne’s talking to me again.

"Roger, how about we get you settled up in one of the suites."

"Aren’t those for the high rollers?"

"Come on. It’s the middle of the week, in the middle of the morning. No one’s using them. I’ll tell you what, you promise to come back down here after you get up and you can keep it tomorrow night too."

"Deal." I said.

She handed me a keycard and gave me a rough idea of were I’d find my new room. I thought about what Daphne had said and wondered if it could be true. Was it possible that in a moment of weakness I connect a right hook to Jackie’s face and the cards just start falling in my favor? It’s true I knocked her cold. It’s also true that had she regained consciousness by now the police would have already found me. Bad for her. Good for me. I guess my father was right after all.

***

Jackie was right where I left her. Sprawled on the floor covered in cigarette soot like a drunken chimney sweep. I nudged her with my shoe. She was breathing but she wasn’t saying anything. I grabbed her under the arms and drug her toward the basement. I knew the stairs would be a challenge but I certainly wasn’t going to bruise her any more than I already had. Plus, it was the only place I knew for certain that no one would hear her. Of course, I was planning on stuffing a sock in her mouth but I really couldn’t take any chances. This was my big break after all.

The basement was unfinished, but there was a folding chair and a lamp. Sometimes I liked to smoke down there. Jackie didn’t like me smoking in the house and I didn’t like smoking in the rain. Marriage is all about compromise. I tied her to the chair with an arrangement of belts and ties. I found the duct tape and put a strip over her mouth.

I hope it holds.

I woke up in the suite. Being fully clothed I deposited myself in my shoes with the intention of finding something I could call food. It found me first. Outside the door beneath the Do Not Disturb sign was a box of jelly donuts (my favorite), a pack of Marlboro’s and a bottle of aspirin. In twenty minutes I had finished my to do list; smoked three cigarettes, ate half the box of donuts and swallowed four aspirin.

I looked around the suite still not believing it was mine, lit another cigarette and headed for the casino.

The air on the casino floor is smoky and dense. Musty and stale like my breath. Daphne looks happy. I’m trying to. The money keeps coming, slowly, but surely.

"What’s the matter Roger?" For a minute I believe she really cares about me.

"Problem at home." I say hoping that my belts are holding up.

"She make you happy?"

"She used to," I pause, "now I just feel bad for hurting her."

Daphne keeps dealing. Blackjack. It puts a smile on my face.

"That’s more like it," Daphne smiles too, "Roger, how many times have you sat right there and brooded because she hurt you. Do you think she felt bad? Of course not. Now I’m not saying she deserves to be punished it’s just, like I said, karma."

I know she’s right. Jackie may never have hit me or tied me to a folding chair in our basement. She hurt me worse. She emasculated me; she made me feel ashamed of who I am. Who I want to be.

"Why don’t you keep that room a couple more nights?"

"As long as you promise to stop by. I’ll give you a tour."

She nods.

I continue, "I guess I better go pick up some clothes."

"Grab something nice," she tells me, "tomorrow night you win big."

***

I went home to get some clothes. I should have checked on Jackie but the little voice told me; make your own luck. I decided to leave her be. The drive to the casino is a quick one. I guess that may have been part of the reason Jackie and I always fought. But Jackie wasn’t in my thoughts for long. I was up over 10 grand and it occupied most of my waking life, the money and Daphne. I wondered what it would be like if she were my wife. I could see her in the kitchen serving me something for dinner the same way she deals the cards, with a smile on her face. I wonder what it would be like to have a woman that cooks for you and doesn’t complain about it.

I insert the keycard in the door.

Someone’s been in the room. Lucky for me, I’ve been carrying all the cash on me. I can’t tell immediately what’s wrong with the room, and then I see it. There’s a bottle of champagne on the table in the main room. It has a ribbon. There’s also a card on the table.

-Roger

I’m dealing in the high limit room tonight. Save the champagne. Tonight, I have a feeling a toast will be in order.

Daphne

I’ve never played the high limit table before. Jackie would have killed me.

A man’s gotta make his own luck.

I headed straight home.

For the second time in as many days, I find Jackie right where I left her. She won’t look at me but I know she’s listening. I can tell she’s awake. There are scratches in the floor marked in the dust. She’s been trying to escape. She just wasn’t that lucky.

Bad for her. Good for me.

"I think we should get a divorce," she won’t respond, "I know you’re mad. In a couple of days, you can get as far away from me as possible." She starts to cry. "Tonight, though you have to stay put. Tonight I’m a high roller. Tonight I make my own luck." I pulled out the knife I had been hiding. I grabbed it from the kitchen before I came down. Jackie wasn’t much of a cook, so it wasn’t much of a knife. I think she got the message anyway.

Once when she was cutting an onion. She was crying. I asked her why, she had told me the sharper the knife the less you cry. I sharpened it before I came down just to be safe.

I started on her arms. I tried to explain, "This is hurting me more than it’s hurting you". I don’t think she bought it. I’m not sure I bought it either. I didn’t cut deep though. Scratches really. She was too weak to scream. I was thankful for that. I imagined Daphne holding my wrists, guiding the knife down Jackie’s forearm like it was a piece of wedding cake.

‘Tonight you win big,’ she whispers.

I must have believed her. I went deeper.

***

There were two guys at Daphne’s table by the time I got there. I sat in between them. The guy on the left was a short, fat man. He wore a panama hat. I thought he looked ridiculous but far be it for me to mock a high roller. The other man, the one on my right was wearing a black polo and looked like your average middle class, middle aged man. Unfortunately, it was the other guy who was leading the group in conversation.

"You ain’t gonna split tens, are ya?" He looked at me. I was about to answer him when Daphne stepped in.

"Don’t worry about Roger, Marty, he knows what he’s doing." She even fights my battles for me.

The man in the black polo leaned over, "Marty over there likes to blame everyone else for his bad luck."

"A man's got to make his own luck," I tell him.

"Truer words were never spoken." The cocktail waitress came around asking for drinks. The man in the black polo asked for a glass of wine, he looked at me, "Roger, you care for a glass of wine? My treat." I nodded. Marty ordered a beer. "I'll tell you something Roger, there is nothing like a glass of red wine to compliment blackjack. It soothes the mind. Have you ever had wine while you played the game before?"

I shook my head.

"You seem like a whiskey man. I have nothing against whiskey myself and truth be told, I've been known to put back a few, but when I'm playing blackjack, it's only one glass, one glass of red wine. I think you'll like it."

I agreed and thanked the man for buying me a drink. I took a mental inventory of his chips. They stacked somewhere in the vicinity of fifty grand. I had ten at the table and felt a little like a small fish in a big pond. I looked over at Marty he had about a hundred large in front of him. He must have noticed me looking, "don't look so envious kid, I started out with half a million." I grinned.

I waited for the shoe to run out. I don't know if it's really a courtesy to wait for the players to finish their cards but I wasn't taking any chances at this table. These guys were probably going to make more money just sitting there than I was going to make in my whole life. I had no intention of making any enemies at this casino. I even had it in mind that I would make Marty my friend. After all, I was making my own luck.

Marty, recovered some of his losses by the end of the shoe, but he still had a long way to go. I had no idea how much the man in the black polo started with so it was difficult to say if he was winning or losing, but he seemed alright with the situation either way.

"Wine's here," he said.

The waitress handed me a glass. I tried to remember how to drink it. I smelled it. I swirled it in the glass. I'm not sure what good that did. I sipped it. I thought I was going to have to pretend to like it, but I didn't. It was smooth, slightly bitter. I was so wrapped up in the warmth of the liquid I didn't even realize that they were waiting on me to place my first bet.

"It's good isn't it," the man in the black polo said.

"Better than I thought it was going to be." I said.

"Just place your damn bet." Marty said.

I did as he asked. The first hand is always the dealer's so I bet the minimum. Which, given the setting happened to be more than I'd ever bet on one hand before in my life.

Blackjack.

I hope I didn't hurt her too bad. The first hand's always the dealer's. Daphne tells me nice job. It makes me feel good. She knows I'm a man who makes his own luck. The whole shoe goes on without a hitch. The wine makes my head swim. I lose a few but I win more. There's no stopping me. I'm up almost thirty grand.

The man in the black polo hands me the yellow card. He wants me to cut. I hate to do it but as he hands it to me he says, "make us all lucky, Roger." And I know it's in my power to do so. I can help Marty make his money back. I can help all of us. I can be the hero of the table.

I cut them deep.

It reminds me of Jackie.

I decide to bet a little more on the first hand this time. The first hand is no longer the dealer's. It’s mine.

I bust.

I'm discouraged, but not much. I know it's only a matter of time before I make that back. I pull my bets back a little. And I bust again. I start betting the minimum. Bust. Bust. Bust. This goes on for about half the shoe. I'm still up about five thousand but it's not enough. I know I can do better than this. The man in the black polo is watching me. "If you want to sit out a hand to mix the cards up, you can." I nod. I let them play without me for a few hands. They seem to be winning. Having fun. I'm sweating. Daphne hasn't said much, she looks a little worried, I think for a moment I should leave but this is my big night, my night to prove to everyone that I am a man who makes his own luck. I am in control of my own destiny.

I put all my chips in the circle.

"I'm ready to double up," I wink at Daphne. The man in the black polo and Marty think I'm crazy but I assure them I know what I'm doing. "It's time." I tell them.

The first card is a king. That's a great start. I can feel my gut clenching up. Not like I've made a mistake but in such a way as to tell me: this is right. I've made the right decision. The second card is another king. 20.

Daphne is showing a queen. Before I can tell her I stand. There's a hand on my shoulder. A husky voice I don't recognize calls me by name, "Roger Niblack?"

I turn around, "Yes, that's me."

"You're going to have to come with us."

"Why?"

"Do you know where your wife is?"

"At home."

I turn around. I look at Daphne. "This must be some kind of mistake." I tell her. I look down at my cards and wave my hands to tell her I stand. She shakes her head. I look at her cards. She's turned over the ace of spades. 21. Blackjack. I notice that Marty and the man in the black polo have left the table.

"But that's impossible."

"Sir, I don't want to arrest you in front of these people."

"Then don't." I turn around. There's a younger guy with him now. I think he's a casino employee and not a cop but it's hard to tell. The older man pulls out a pair of handcuffs the younger guy forces me against the table. He pats me down.

"There's something in his pocket." He says.

He reaches in while the older man cuffs me. He must have been surprised because he threw it on the table. This makes me think they haven't actually seen Jackie yet or they'd have known she was missing the finger. I couldn't get the ring off. Daphne is crying a little bit. It touches me. I look down at the ring on the finger. "It's for you." I tell her.

Her eyes get wider, "oh, Roger." That's all she says.

A funny thing happened as they were escorting me out of the casino. It went quiet. I've never seen anything quite like it. All the bells, all the whistles, stopped for me, even the crazed old ladies at their keno machines were watching me. Everything was quiet, except in the corner of the room, I hear a slot machine. The light on top is revolving like a beacon on the coast. The man in the black polo has just hit a jackpot.

On his deathbed my father had this to say, "sometimes when the pain is really bad, death would be the luckiest day of a man's life." I guess it holds true for a woman too.