When The Wrong One Loves You Right

Master of the Game

Polly opened the set of French doors and then stood aside for Phillip and me to enter ahead of him. My eyes swiftly took in the room I had never seen before; it was small in comparison to the other rooms in the rest of the house, perfect for an intimate game of eight. The dark wood paneled walls, single chandelier, and round red baize covered table in the center of the room gave it the look of an old fashioned gambling parlor. The floors were highly polished wood with a large Turkish carpet in the center. Along the walls were additional chairs to accommodate at least a dozen gamblers. The scent of bourbon and tobacco mingled with various expensive colognes. The atmosphere was close, warm, and decidedly male-centric. And like me, I could tell Phillip thought it was all just a bit absurd.

I rolled my eyes subtly as we entered and saw the six gamblers seated silent and tight lipped around the table on armless red velvet tufted chairs with Marvin holding court. His eyes looked beady and suspicious as he surveyed us. I was a step ahead of Phillip and, playing my part well, went over to where Marvin stood. He held his arms out to me, placing his cool hands on my bare shoulders and leaning in to kiss me. I shivered.

"Gentlemen," he said, smiling benignly. "My good luck charm and lovely wife to be, Cameron." He looked at Phillip as he held me to the side. "Ah, Mr. Altman," he said as if he was surprised to see Phillip there. "So happy you could join us...it's gonna be a gasser."

I couldn't look at Phillip as Marvin's arm clamped around my shoulders, pulling me tightly to his side. I turned my head and gave the shark a wide smile, all charm and acquiescence. The perfect railbird. For now. 

"Oh, no, Martin, the pleasure's all mine," Phillip replied smoothly. 

His eyes innocently met mine and I bit tongue to keep from giggling at his deliberate use of the wrong name. The other men at the table sat up straight and stared at him. I dropped my gaze to the floor.

"Oh, shit," Phillip said with a sheepish smile, his dimples pressing in. "I mean Marvin. Sorry. Marvin."

The phony smile had faded from Marvin's face and he indicated a chair at the table. "Please. Have a seat." 

Introductions were made, hands shaken, and the usual pleasantries exchanged. At least as far as I could see these men had come simply to gamble and didn't mind the insinuation of an eighth unknown player into their midst. Little did they know that for Marvin this was personal.

Phillip sat between two men I remembered having seen once before at the Borgata; the rotund attorney from Philadelphia, Richard Aptowitz, although he went by Rick with his friends. The other was a slender built restauranteur from Chicago named Saul Russo. Both had enjoyed Leslie's favors more than once, courtesy of me. When I thought about that now it gave me the creeps. I lifted my eyes to Phillip's who was fortuitously seated across from Marvin and me. Everything had changed for me, and this guy I used to hate had changed it. 

"What's the game, Marv?" Ricky asked.

"Five card draw." Marvin looked at Phillip. "That's what you played when you beat Cam down, wasn't it, Altman?"

Phillip looked highly amused but was trying to hide it. "Yes," he answered slowly as if Marvin was an imbecile. "Yes it was."

Marvin's eyes were cold as marble as he stared Phillip down. The other men might as well have not been in the room.

"Well, then," he said turning to look up at me where I perched on his chair arm. "Cam, divvy up the chips and explain the rules."

I took a deep breath and slowly got to my feet. I felt all eyes on me as I strutted around the table in that clinging dress and set a chip holder down in front of each player. "The game is five card draw," I repeated in a monotone. "Aces are high. No wild cards. Fifty to ante..."