“Snake eyes—shooter dies,” yelled someone, likely the stickman.
“Ha! That was fast.” Finn chuckled.
Branson had won, but he was more interested in Steph’s conversation.
Stephanie spoke. “I admire your drive. Had to put my career on the back burner once Ellie was diagnosed with cystic fibrosis.”
“New shooter.” The stickman’s voice intruded.
“Leave it all on Don’t Pass,” Bran said, pushing his chips forward.
“Are you sure?” Finn asked.
“I’m sure,” Bran said, impatiently, trying to hear Steph’s conversation.
“Oh, no! That’s terrible,” Steph exclaimed. “No, I won’t tell a soul.” Then her voice dipped low. “Forgot this was on. So sorry.”
His receiver went quiet.
“Yes!” Finn shouted, his fist pounding Bran’s arm. “We won again. You’re hot, tonight, Branson. Think I’ll just copy your bets.”
“Your loss. I’ll bet Pass.” Bran strained to hear Stephanie again, but his ears rang with silence.
“Where did the women go?” he asked Finn.
“Uhmm,” Finn’s voice undulated, apparently a result of his head turning as he scanned the massive room. “I don’t see ’em. But they were headed toward the front, where all the slot machines are. Do you want me to fetch Carina for you?”
What could he say? If he mentioned wanting Stephanie back, Finn would tease him without mercy.
A new shooter rolled a four on the come-out.
“No, I don’t need her. Fifty thousand on the odds,” said Branson.
“Are you crazy?” Finn’s voice went up an octave. “Are you trying to lose everything early, so you can go upstairs? It’s not happening, buddy. This trip is about spending time together, so you’re staying to the end.”
Finn had hit the nail on the head, but Bran only grunted in reply. No use arguing or trying to explain his sudden discontent.
The crowd around the table exploded with excitement.
“Four the hard way,” shouted the stickman.
“You lucky dog.” Finn’s voice split his eardrum as a hand gripped his arm and shook him like a rag doll. “Can’t believe it.”
Jarrett and Cole let out congratulatory whoops and pounded him on the back. A huge stack of chips slid into Bran’s waiting fingers, and he grinned, the old thrill of winning rushing back like an avalanche. Maybe I’ll hang around and play, after all.
As Branson’s stack of chips grew, so did his sense of ease in the noisy surroundings, even without the comfort of Steph’s voice. Yet he wished she’d return to watch him play. Besides, he was worried that she’d spent too much time alone with Carina. Bran was wary enough to handle her, but Stephanie was often naively trusting.
After a particularly lucrative round, Cole suggested they take a break. So the four moved to a table in the bar. His friends were feasting on nachos, but Bran was in the mood for something healthy. Unfortunately, nothing nutritious was available in the bar. Finn seemed particularly insistent that Bran should have an alcoholic beverage, but Branson resisted.
“I’ll stick to water, for now. I don’t want to mess up my concentration while I’m winning.”
“You’re winning,” Cole lamented, “and I’m losing everything but the shirt off my back.”
“How do I know you haven’t lost that as well,” Bran teased. “I’m blind. For all I know, you’re sitting here naked as the day you were born.”
Cole shot back, “Because if I’d lost any of my clothes, we’d be surrounded by women right now.”
Bran’s laugh sent him into a coughing fit.
“Big ego, much?” Jarrett asked Cole.
“You know how it is,” Cole answered, drolly. “I’m from Texas, where everything is big.”
Bran didn’t need eyes to guess what gesture Cole made to accompany his claim. This time, Bran laughed without spilling his water. Finn’s answering groan carried across the table.
“I don’t know about that, Cole,” Jarrett quipped. “You seem to be running short… very short in fact. Short on luck.”
Cole scooted close and wrapped an arm around Branson’s shoulder. “I’m hoping some of Bran’s luck will rub off on me.”
His friend’s deliberate attempt to make him uncomfortable was working, but Branson knew one sure way to make him stop. He turned toward Cole and threw both his arms around his neck, pulling his face close and planting a loud smacking kiss on his cheek.
“Aaaak!” Cole disentangled himself and pushed away from Branson, chuckling. “Come on, man. You’re going to ruin my chances with the ladies.”
“Give up, Cole,” said Finn. “These ladies will take one look at that neon hand and go running.”
Interesting that Cole had chosen the less socially-acceptable prosthetic for the tournament. But Branson wasn’t completely surprised. Cole had always been a bit of a rebel.
