The Aftermath

04

Barona was a good place to play poker. One of the features Tom appreciated about the casino was they didn't serve alcohol. So there were very few drunks to deal with, and more serious poker players.

It was to Barona that Tom escaped from his sister's house. His wife and sister talked and re-talked about what his mother's duplicity could mean for Tom, and none of it sounded good. He understood both his sister and his wife processed anxiety verbally. It didn't take three years of psychology to figure that one out, but the degree did help him realize there was no changing the process. It was their means of internalizing, and part of the package, like blood. So, he escaped.

The poker room was situated back behind all of the restaurants and far from the dinging cacophony of the machines. The room sported a number of flat screens which were tuned to sports, CNN, and during the day, the stock market. The sound on these were off. The room had a hush feeling to it, caused by men and women concentrating on playing cards. Splatterings of conversation would spring up from one table or another, only to die down again into the normal flatline hush.

Except for tonight...

Tonight was Friday night and the colleges emptied right into the poker room, or so the deluge appeared to Tom. Aside from the normal players, tonight was surged with a host of eager, excited, and unsure players, who hid their unease with chatter. This event slipped Tom's mind when he was planning his escape to a quieter setting.

Tom walked to the desk and asked to be placed on the $10-$20 game list. There were several names in front of him. Since he didn't gamble, except for poker which he did not consider gambling, the long list meant he was in for a wait. He took the offered pager from the floor-manager and slipped the plastic buzzer into his back pocket. Then he grabbed a magazine someone had left on the desk, and looked for a spot to sit.

He found a spot in the back of the room at a table that wasn't being used. With the growing crowd he doubted this would be the case for long. Tom flagged down a waitress, ordered a diet coke, then settled in to read the pilfered magazine.

Most of the players on a Friday night would be interested in the lower games. Most college students couldn't afford to get thrashed in a $10-$20 game. The biggest call for table seats would be at the $1-$2 and $3-$5 games. Normally he would be at one of the lower stake tables as well, but tonight he was looking for serious poker, not college kids and egos.

"Mind if I sit with you?"

Tom looked up at the woman who posed the question. She was probably less than 35 but getting close. Auburn hair, blue eyes and pale skin gave the impression of Irish decent, but her voice was all SoCal home brew. "You aren't a reporter are you?" Tom asked with a smile.

Her smile faded slightly, "Actually I am. Is that a problem?"

"You followed me all the way here?" Tom asked.

"Why would I follow you? Are you famous?" She asked.

Tom realized she didn't recognize him, and was simply a trifle insulted at his lame joke. "No, not at all. Please, have a seat." He offered. "My name is Tom."

"Teri." She told him as she set her purse on the table felt. "Sorry about being so thin skinned. It's been a long day." She dug in her purse and pulled out what looked like a cigarette, but it turned out to be one of those electric ones which only exhaled water vapor.

"Yes it has been a long day." Tom sighed.

Teri, the self-proclaimed reporter, took in a drag of the e-cig, the tip glowed green. He supposed that was to let people know it wasn't a real cigarette.