Ace in the Hole: Under the Gun
Call – Pink-Stained Windows and Green Felt Tables
Previous ChapterNext ChapterOn Thursday, I woke to a rather strange sight.
I was alone in the bedroom for the first time in a rather long time. Normally, I would have been woken up when Ace told me to, but Ace wasn’t even in the bedroom. The room was quiet and I only made out the sounds of the sea and the street outside bustling in the early morning. I look over to the nightstand where the alarm is sitting and see the time as nine twenty in the morning.
Ace probably hadn’t gone far. I get up, dress myself in a short-sleeved shirt and jeans, and walk outside the bedroom to contemplate breakfast. Instead, I find Ace sitting in a lounge chair on our porch looking out over the sea, a cup of coffee in his hands and another one seated on the table nearby.
I go to the kitchen without disturbing him. I make a simple bowl of oatmeal with sliced banana and strawberries before heading over to him and sitting in the other lounge chair across the table. It’s quite cool outside, but Ace is only wearing the black shorts he slept in last night. He has a rather content look on his face, and his red mane is lying down in the shape of a diamond over his head.
“Morning, Caramel,” he says after a while.
“Morning, Ace,” I reply. “How long have you been up?”
“Oh, only half an hour,” he tells me. “I made the pot of coffee. I’m on my second cup and brought one out for you as well.”
“How did you know?” I ask him. “That I’d come out to join you.”
“In your slightly-tranced state, you always stay close. That, and you almost always question me if I do something out of the ordinary.”
“Perhaps one of these mornings, I should just go through my usual routine then sit in the living room and read a book. See how long it takes for you to come over.”
Ace laughs. “Not long, I imagine.”
We sit in silence on the porch for a while. We sip our coffee and I finish off my oatmeal. I get up only to wash my dishes before returning to the porch, noting that there indeed is something magnetizing about the stallion that prevents me from going too far away from him for very long.
“We should do something today,” Ace says once I’ve settled in again.
“What do you have in mind?”
“Perhaps find an interesting museum of art or natural history. Walk through the old downtown and peruse the shops. I like the day off, but I’m not fond of sitting around here all day.”
“Sure,” I say. “Gives us some time to talk, too.”
“Yeah,” he says. “You know, I’ve really been starting to think about why we hadn’t done this earlier.”
“Starved for contact, maybe? Skipped over most of the whole ‘getting to know you’ bit before diving right in with the physical intimacy?”
“Well, it’s not like you’ve complained,” Ace says. On his face is the closest thing I’ve seen to a shit-eating grin from him. “You’ve quite enjoyed them, even.”
I blush and look over to Ace. He’s quite relaxed, leaning back on his lounge chair in a rather evocative position. If I had even a shade less decency, I’d be torn between wanting to slap him across the face or pressing his mouth against mine. As it stands, all I do is sit and stare for a minute before going back to my coffee as though nothing happened.
Ace is laughing again. He gets up out of his chair and comes over to me. His hands start to gently knead my shoulders and he nuzzles my cheek. “Caramel, relax,” he says, his soft tenor whispering in my ear, flooding over me. I feel myself get heavy and drop into the chair, leaning back just a little bit. My coffee cup leaves my hand and there’s the sound of ceramic tapping glass as Ace places it on the table next to us, but I’m already too weak to move or care. “You know I’d never do anything of the sort without your permission.”
Ace quietly leaves my shoulders and comes around to my chest, where he lies down on top of me, his hips matching mine and his hooves winding around mine. There’s a quick snap, the flick of a card, and I can see the familiar ace of hearts swinging back and forth in front of me, hiding both one blue eye then the other.
“Relax, Caramel,” Ace gently whispers. “Relax… Just keep following the gentle pattern. Watch as the card gently sways back and forth in front of your vision. It’s an easy, simple, calming pattern, and you find yourself beginning to breathe in time with each swing.”
My hands are already limp at my sides. I can do nothing more but stare deep into Ace’s eyes, follow the ace of hearts gently swinging back and forth in front of my vision, and listen to the mesmerizing intonations. Ace brings a hand up to my cheek and begins caressing it and I find myself leaning into it, enjoying the warmth and tenderness.
“That’s it, Caramel, just enjoy this peaceful relaxation, enjoy this moment of bliss. You feel warm and relaxed, your body feeling heavy and limp. Let my gentle caress relax you even further, the gentle touch adding to your peaceful state.”
I can’t look away from Ace. Neither can I move. I don’t care. I feel calm and relaxed, and already a sleepy feeling has descended on me. Part of me still wants to slap Ace, but it’s moved more towards wanting to press my mouth against his because that will at least get him to shut up.
But, for some reason, I can tell that’s coming up anyway.
“You enjoy this relaxation. You enjoy following the card and begin to let go of all your stresses. All your cares. All your worries. You enjoy just relaxing and watching the ace and staring into my eyes. No need to worry about anyone or anything else right now; your eyes beginning to feel slightly heavy as you become completely relaxed all over. ”
His hand is off my cheek and is now between us, gently rubbing my chest. But it’s soon gone from there and goes over to my side and I feel him press his chest against mine in a sort of half hug; our combined weight is too heavy to actually lift me up to wrap around me, but he’s as close as he can get. He’s gently smiling, thoroughly enjoying this, and I’m beginning to feel it, too.
I wonder how many ponies are looking up at us on the hotel’s fifth floor like this. And sometimes, if I’m really thinking about it, I wonder what they think about it.
Ace seems to read my mind. “Let go of your thoughts and just enjoy the moment here with me. Now, I’m going to flick the card and, without looking away or thinking about it too hard, I want you to realize that it turns into a ten of hearts, though it keeps the gentle sway from earlier.”
And there they go. Nothing but Ace’s eyes, voice, and the swinging card remain.
“In just a moment, I’m going to count down starting with ten. With every number I count down, the card will flick and change to that number. I want you to keep watching the gentle sway of the card and don’t be alarmed. Are you ready, Caramel?”
I nod, my eyes not leaving Ace or the card in his hand.
Ace’s voice is slow, methodical, wrapping me up in every word he says. “Ten… You’ve found an easy pace and rhythm.
“Nine… You’re feeling yourself become more and more relaxed.
“Eight… Your body is feeling heavy and relaxed as you sink deeper.
“Seven… You’re letting go of your stress and inhibitions.
“Six… Keep breathing steadily in and out, the even tempo and rhythm allowing your heart rate to slow and become calm and relaxed.
“Five… Your focus is starting to drift, perhaps into my eyes, but you’re still following the card.
“Four… your eyelids are getting heavy, but keep them open and watch the gentle sway.
“Three… Your breathing is becoming slower and more even, still following the rhythm of the card.
“Two… Almost back to the ace, and almost to full relaxation.
“One…”
And then the card suddenly snaps away and his lips are pressed softly against mine, one hand on either side of my head. I have the slightest amount of feeling in my arms, just enough to lift them up and wrap them around his back. Ace pulls his body forward across me and pins my head, starting to lift, against the back of the lounge chair as he draws in for another kiss. The air is warmer, but I can hardly feel it with Ace’s body next to mine.
At last, he pulls away.
“You cheated,” I tell him, able to speak though I’m still a little sleepy from the trance.
“You’re smiling,” he purrs, a smile on his own face. It’s not the shit-eating grin of earlier, but a warm, tender smile.
He’s not lying about mine, either. “Oh, shut up.” And I pull him down for another.
We’re there for another ten or so minutes, Ace resting his head on my chest and gently teasing me through the shirt, before I wake up and Ace decides to get himself showered and dressed if we’re to go to a museum. I finish getting ready once he’s done in the bathroom, and redress before we leave the hotel and head down to the street. Ace flags a taxi and we get into the back.
“Take us to the Baltimare Historic District Museum Park,” Ace says.
“Be about a fifteen minute drive,” the cab driver says.
Ace is about to pay the fare when I stop him. “Can you drive by the casino?”
The cab driver looks at me suspiciously. “I ain’t goin’ by there,” he says darkly. “Look, you can see it from the Museum Park. I’ll just take ya there.”
I’m about to argue, but Ace places a hand to my chest. I look over to him and he merely shakes his head, a stern look on his face. I decide not to ask any more about it.
The sun is shining bright and warm as we exit the cab at a large green area with paths around the outside. In the center is a large fountain, and around the sides are three large buildings. One is a museum of art, one is a museum of natural history, and one appears to be a science museum and observatory, which is almost surprising except the Historic District is rather dim at night with the exception of the museums.
Our first stop is the museum of art. As we walk through, Ace discusses the beginnings of him being a hypnotist.
“My talent with cards was noticed by a Blackjack, already a notable business and casino owner, while I was doing street performances. I already had some of my magic talent then and could do all the simple tricks. Like the ‘Is this your card?’ sort of thing, and I developed my pulling of the royal flushes, too. So, he took me under his wing.
“I was originally applying for a dealer. But then Blackjack noticed my magic. It was then he directed me to Untakhan. He observed my magic and decided that, being an earth pony, I had some potential. And so he taught me some of the kinder usages of Zebran shaman magic. I understood immediately that I was lucky, and absorbed his lessons fully and with intent.
“I was about to learn some of the magic when I tripped and fell down a set of stairs. I had been meeting with Blackjack and was heading downstairs to Untakhan’s room, and then I fell. I had a large gash on my head, and one of Blackjack’s men took me to the hospital. I was treated for a gash and they looked for brain damage, but thankfully there was none present.
“So it came as a surprise when I still retained my magic. I quickly regained my magical ability, and Untakhan began teaching me. It was then he taught me his three tenants – comfort, space, and conservation of movement. I was initially taught with things like a pendulum and a watch. But then I decided to try out a different thing by adding my cards into the trick. Untakhan loved it and said I should add that into my repertoire.”
“When did you start with your show?” I interject.
“Shortly afterwards,” Ace replies. “One of my favorites that I do is to take a replica of a painting and convince the audience I had borrowed the real thing. I then tear it to pieces in front of the audience and throw it into the remainder of the frame. Then I would raise a curtain as though to mourn only to have it act like it was falling apart and couldn’t support it, only for it to drop and reveal the restored painting.”
“I’ve never seen that one before,” I say with interest. “Do you think you could do it in your next show?”
“Yes, I could,” Ace says, again pleased by my interest. “We’ll stop by the gift shop on the way out. I’ll need to pick up a few replicas for it anyways. For now, why don’t we have some lunch before going to the Natural History museum?”
We head outside and find a café between the observatory and the natural history museum. We grab a couple of sandwiches and a small container of hay fries to split between us and eat in relative peace and quiet.
“So,” Ace says over lunch. “These last two days have been almost all about me. But what about you? Tell me a little about yourself. What exactly were you doing when I picked you up in Ponyville?”
“Well,” I begin, “I had a mish-mash of jobs. My main job was helping out at our apple farm. I would buck trees to get the apples out of them, and later help sort them by type. Nice family; mostly run by a brother-sister operation. But during the off-season I worked at a dessert place called Sugarcube Corner, run mostly by a family but almost all the work was done by one pony.”
“Yeah, I remember passing by there once or twice when I had the show in Ponyville,” Ace mused. “What did you do?”
“I made candies,” I said. “Caramels, like my name. I’d make a couple of large tins a day, and the other pony would help wrap them in the middle of all the other stuff I did.”
“Were they popular?”
“Oh, a little. They were a change. But the other pony knew how to make them well and could make one or two more tins than I could a day by herself. She was just so… excitable. Friendly, but way more energy than I could stand.”
Ace chuckles. “So, what do you think they would say if you saw them again?”
I shrug. “I… I don’t know, really. I don’t think about going back there. I will say I was thinking about resigning anyways. The work from the farm was better off and I was thinking about a new job that would have paid better.”
“And then I came along,” Ace says.
I nod. “Then you came along,” I repeat. “It… almost surprised me that I agreed to come along with you. I hadn’t been having a particularly bad week.”
“Your… alleged ‘friends’ had been teasing you.” Ace has a small smile, but it doesn’t sound like a joke. “I heard it all. Even some of it in the theater.”
It didn’t come to as much of a surprise as it should have. I was at least aware of Ace’s tendency to sit in the shadows before a show, but why he picked out that specific conversation… “So, how much of this had you planned ahead?”
“Little,” Ace said. “I just… went to Ponyville on a whim. It wasn’t as big and I wanted a break. I could still do the show, but the audience wouldn’t have been large.”
I nod, amused. “Quite the extraordinary set of circumstances…” I muse.
“Certainly,” Ace agrees. “Almost as though fate itself was insistent on it.”
“So is it fate or your trance that was behind our little kiss on the balcony?” I say to him with a smirk.
“Oh, fate can bring us together,” Ace says with an almost devious grin. “But a little magic doesn’t hurt to close that gap just a little.”
“A little. That qualifies as an understatement if I ever heard one.”
Ace chuckles. “It’s not like you mind.”
We finish with lunch and go through the natural history museum. Aside from the commentary on the rare gems already present on their placards, Ace provides interesting commentary about their use in the shamanistic magic he was taught.
“Crystals are the most common conduit. They’re said to increase magic power. It’s half the reason why they are what most fortune tellers use them for their seeing-eye balls. Now, if you use a gem like an onyx, that increases mental fortitude; that is, resistance against it. Blue gemstones usually stand for physical strength. Amethyst can serve as relaxation, but allows one to easily alter memories or perception. And at the end you have pink gemstones like rose quartz and pink tourmaline, which are good for love.”
“How come you never use any of those?”
“I’ve altered it slightly for cards. Hearts are the most pleasing to look at for most and also places a subliminal projection of kindness and trust, thus it’s easier for them to fall under because they’re more relaxed.”
“Ever use another suit?”
Ace takes a moment to think it over. “I’d place diamonds as mental fortitude, spades as physical strength, and clubs for perception. I don’t think I’d ever use a suit besides hearts on stage.”
“That’s the one you use on me, isn’t it?”
“It’s familiar, as well. It’s important to stick to one thing and not to change things up too much. I lose touch, and you lose comfort via lack of familiarity.”
It’s evening when we leave the natural history museum, now closing, and go to the observatory. It’s part museum – holding exhibits of space explorations, old science equipment, interactive exhibits, and displays, and part working facility. It also is relatively tall, taller than the other two museums, and provides special viewing lenses to look at the rest of the town, from the darkening and quieting Historic District all the way to the more modern, brightly lit downtown.
Ace motions me over to one of these viewing lenses and places a bit in it. He moves to the viewing lens and moves the scope around until it’s facing towards a particularly bright patch off in the distance. I can just make out a large black building with shining neon lights. It towers over everything in the Historic District and likely would be almost three times the size of the Salt and Sea Hotel and Suites.
Once he’s got the view focused, Ace steps out of the way and motions me over. I step in and look through the viewfinder.
On closer view, the building looks like a big black monolith covered in red and pink neon. I’m first looking at the entrance hall decorated in white marble with a poker motif, led into by three sets of glass double-doors. Over the entrance lies a giant sign saying “Blackjack’s 21 Hotel and Casino”, an image of the pale-gray unicorn tipping a hat at one side and an ace and a king of spades, the traditional 21 in the namesake game.
“Supposedly the single most expensive project ever in Baltimare,” Ace tells me as I look over the thing. “Over 500 hundred rooms and suites, a gambling hall, two restaurants, two clubs, a theater, its own personal gardens, spa and workout center, at least 5 meeting rooms for businesses, and a museum of historic transportation, plus what rather amounts to a small mall filled with mostly high-end merchandise. Takes up practically two whole blocks on its own.”
I’m half realizing just how giant the structure really is and wondering how all of that can fit into one building. I step away from the viewfinder as it shuts off and look off into the distance, noting the giant sphere of light created by the casino despite the darkening sky all around it. Over the bay where we’re staying, stars have come out and the streets are only lit by the occasional gas lamp.
I already prefer the hotel we’re staying at, but I am curious. “You knew about the casino, right? Why not stay there?”
“It’s expensive, luxurious, and immensely popular. I stay there and will be almost immediately recognized and swarmed. Plus, as nice and modern as it is, I prefer the more antique look and warm feel of our hotel.”
I have to agree with him. The Salt and Sea is painted in brilliant blues and whites, and the inside of our suite feels like an old-time townhouse painted in soft creams, warm browns, and sea blue. It feels natural to the eye, unlike the sharp red and the shadowy black of the casino.
Once we’re done at the observatory, Ace hails a taxi and we’re heading out for dinner. There’s a small, homey restaurant only a block away from the hotel and we’re soon having a fine if simple dinner on the harbor, the waves gently lapping as we dine on the patio under candlelight.
It’s almost romantic.
“One thing I must compliment Blackjack on,” I say in the middle of dinner.
Ace stops with a forkful of food to his mouth. “What’s that?”
“Aside from the caviar, he certainly knows how to make a great meal.”
Ace laughs. “You should have seen the look on your face when he said it was fish eggs.”
“They weren’t that bad,” I say. “Just what they were took me off-guard.”
“Yeah, with the right amount of toast to go with, they’re not so bad. But I’ll keep away from them. I’ll just eat the fish.”
When dinner’s finished, Ace orders a port and has me try it. It’s dark red like the pinot noir or the claret, but it’s sweet and served with a side of chocolate chips, which taste rather well with it though I can still feel the fire of the alcohol in my cheeks once it’s finished.
Back at the hotel, Ace showers and begins preparing his things for tomorrow. It won’t be as long or as stressful as the opening weekend, but it’s still a weekend and there’s still a show to put on. When Ace finishes, he calls me over to join him on the couch. He ends up making it where my head is in his lap, lying on the couch as we watch a movie. He gently strokes my mane and whispers what sounds like nonsense until I’m almost asleep then keeps me there for a while, floating in a gentle state of euphoric relaxation.
Finally, at almost midnight, he wakes me.
“Caramel,” he says. “We should go to bed.”
It’s a suggestion, not a command. “I should shower first.”
“Alright. I’ll be waiting.”
And wait he does. When I come back into the bedroom, he’s in nothing but a pair of boxers and a wide grin on his face. His eyes are half shut and he’s motioning towards me slowly and lazily with a single hand.
“I think a year is a long enough wait for the first time…” he says.
* * *
Monday morning finds me lying down on Ace’s chest wearing nothing but boxers. Ace has his hands and hooves wrapped around mine, and the first thing I hear from him is a content sigh. I’m too relaxed to move, and half of me wondered if he hypnotized me last night or if it was simply another round of sex.
“Blackjack’s today?” I mumble from my position with my nose on his chest. He still smells clean from last night.
“Yeah,” Ace says softly, soothingly. He gently runs a hand through my mane. “Not until later.”
“What time ‘sit?”
“Only ten. You were working hard last night.”
I had been. In addition to all my other duties, one of the stage hands had come down with a cold. I had been running back and forth between behind the stage and up in the room, nearly constantly talking into the headset just to make sure things ran smooth. Afterwards, Ace had tripped and had actually had a small sprain on his ankle, just above the hoof. This required me to not only do most of the packing but also to carry the cases from the theater to the hotel room and set Ace up and make sure he wasn’t hurt too badly. Janus had helped somewhat, like with bandaging his leg and packing the cases, but otherwise I had been on my own.
“How’s your leg?” I ask as I remember this.
“Alright,” Ace says. “I think I can walk fine. But I probably need to rest up for about a week.”
“What about your show next weekend?”
“I just simply won’t do as much pacing and wear a brace. It’s already bandaged good and I’m keeping weight off it.”
“You should go to the doctor.”
“Yeah, maybe we should check in at emergency before meeting up with Blackjack.”
And so I get up and get myself ready before helping Ace. We walk out at about ten thirty and flag down a cab again, this time taking us towards the more modern part of Baltimare and to a clean, white hospital.
At the hospital, we go to the emergency check-in. Thankfully, the people at the hospital are fans of Ace and send us off to a room for an X-ray almost as soon as I’ve finished explaining what happened. The doctor comments on the bandage before gently stripping it off and placing Ace’s leg in a machine. The machine scans it for about five minutes before revealing an image, which the doctor notices.
“No fractures,” he tells us. “That’s good. We’ll have to put a good bandage around it and maybe a special hoof-cover with brace to keep it steady and not rolling around. In the meantime, I’ll send you to the pharmacy and write up a prescription for a pain reliever and muscle relaxant.”
“When is it going to be healed?” I ask.
“Well, the damage is minor,” he says. “It’s not as bad as I first thought, but I’d give it a week before the hoof-cover comes off. Take it off for baths but put it back on when you’re done, and keep it elevated as much as possible.”
“What about my show?” Ace asks.
“No pacing around on stage is all I can say,” the doctor tells him. “If you need to, bring out a stool for the card tricks or if you need to again. Even leaning on it will help.”
Ace is disappointed, but we leave and return to the hotel at about twelve thirty with a small paper bag containing a pain reliever pill he’s supposed to take twice a day; once in the morning and once at night with a meal. I make him a small sandwich and give him some chips from our stores and he eats it gratefully with a long drink of water.
“Well,” Ace says, “hopefully Blackjack won’t be making us run around his casino. He’s particularly proud of it and likes showing it off whenever he can.”
Once Ace has finished, he ends up dozing off for a while, still clothed in case he needs to get up and go. I do a bit of cleaning and sit down with a book in the living room. After a few minutes, the phone rings.
“I have a call for Ace from an ‘Untakhan’,” the hotel concierge says.
“Ace’s assistant speaking. What’s the message?”
“Just that he’s waiting downstairs,” the concierge says.
“Alright. I’ll let him know. Tell him we’ll be down in five minutes.”
“I will, sir. Thank you very much.”
“Thank you.”
I walk over to the bedroom. I gently tap Ace on the shoulder and watch him slowly come to his senses. He looks at me with a smile and pulls me down towards him before I can get a word out. At least his lips are still working.
“You should wake me up more often,” Ace says with a smirk.
I half want to slap him. “Untakhan’s here. He’s waiting downstairs. Hotel concierge called us on the room phone.”
Ace stretches himself and slowly gets out of bed. He gets himself a jacket and tells me to get the jacket and the watch he gave me and we’re soon leaving the suite. We take the elevator down to spare Ace’s leg and walk out to the lobby to find Untakhan reading a magazine.
“You’re stiff today, Ace,” he says as we approach.
“Sprained my leg after last night’s show,” Ace replies as Untakhan comes over to help me carry him. “Should be good in a week. For now, have to keep the weight off it.”
“I could offer you an herbal remedy,” Untakhan offers as we slide into the black sedan. “It could heal you up in a few days.”
“No, thank you,” Ace says politely but firmly. He says no further, and I get the feeling from Untakhan immediately laying off on the subject that it’s a conversation they’ve both had before and one that Ace didn’t immediately like.
“Should only take fifteen minutes to reach the casino,” Untakhan says. “They’ve cleared up the mess that was blocking the main roads. Blackjack wants to take you to the newest club before heading over to the poker and baccarat tables.”
“Ace was telling me he hopes he doesn’t go running around the casino with his leg,” I comment.
“I would think not,” Untakhan says. “He’s got immense pride for the establishment, but he also seems a more straight-to-the-point sort of pony lately.”
“Rather encouraging,” Ace says, a hint of sarcasm dripping from his voice.
“He merely spent last week speaking liberally because he hasn’t seen you for a while. Once he got word of when we arrived, it was his first idea to attend one of your shows, but we didn’t get the first night.”
“Sold out,” I say. “Full house. Same with the second night.”
“And we barely managed to catch the third,” Untakhan tells me.
“So, who all will be there today?” Ace asks. “Fine Print still too busy?”
“It’s a Monday, so he’ll be going around the businesses. Roseluck will be joining us again, though she may leave early to help set up one of the casino restaurants.”
A few minutes later, Untakhan falls silent.
“Do you not like speaking in rhyme?” I ask
“It is an insult to be treated like a circus act,” he says. “Not like home where rhymes have purpose and tact. Magic and spells to alter the mind, restore the body, or make inhibitions blind.”
I look between Ace and Untakhan. “Why didn’t you go into something different like medicine or therapy?”
“Therapy bores me,” Ace says. “I like the look on someone’s face if they can’t figure out what I’m doing.”
“Pays better than that sort of job,” Untakhan replies. “And I wouldn’t get chased by an angry mob.”
“Still having trouble fitting in?” I ask sympathetically.
Untakhan nods but doesn’t speak.
Almost seconds later, we’re pulling up to the casino and the three sets of glass double-doors I’d seen from the observatory viewfinder. I help pull Ace out of the car but he insists on walking alone; he doesn’t want to look weak in front of Blackjack.
Blackjack himself is waiting in the crowded lobby with Roseluck, almost covered in marble but filled with motifs of playing cards and gilded statues in the likenesses of the face cards. A reception counter with a finely-polished dark oak surface is filled with a bunch of young mares filling out forms and gathering guest information. Blackjack is hanging out in between two doors, one leading to a large mall with a glass top at the far end and other glass door with the words “Gambling Hall” on a white banner with red letters above it.
Blackjack approaches and holds out his hand. “Glad you could make it,” he says. “I was worried when Untakhan was taking a while that you would turn back on our little invitation.”
“No, just running a little late,” Ace says, motioning to the bandaged leg. “But, I wouldn’t miss out.”
“Should have called me,” Blackjack said, leading us onwards through the lobby into the mall with the glass top. “I could have hooked you up with a treatment.”
“My hospital visit was fast enough,” Ace says. “Everyone in the Emergency Ward heard of me, were really eager and quick. I was done with my appointment in fifteen minutes and walked out of there with a prescription. Should be good in a week…”
Ace and Blackjack continue talking as they walk ahead of me and Roseluck. Untakhan is following behind us silently keeping vigil as we make our way through the crowded mall.
“You gamble much?” Roseluck asks as we walk along.
“No, not really,” I tell her. “First time I ever really stepped in a casino. I’m familiar with poker; we used to have little tournaments back home. You?”
“Poker, same as you. I also like blackjack. It’s a simple game, really; you just have to make the value of your cards to be as close to twenty one as possible without going over.”
“I’ve heard people lose a lot of bits for such simple games,” I told her. “You read about them in the papers. Ponies who develop an addiction and lose thousands of bits, sometimes their entire lives in the space of less than a year.”
“True,” Roseluck admits. “But, if you keep a rational head about it, you can win a little. Some people spend their whole lives making money by touring Equestria and even beyond winning tournaments and playing card games.”
“Sounds a little like what Ace does, only extremely specialized.”
Roseluck laughs. “Ace has less risk. At least he gets a steady pay.”
“You play before meeting Blackjack?”
“Sparingly. I used to go with my sisters – Daisy and Lily – off to Las Pegasus once every year or so.”
“And now half of your life must be around this casino.”
“Less than that. More like around a fifth or a sixth. Blackjack is rather accommodating and helps me secure work for flower arranging. It pays well; I already have a fair amount stored in the bank.”
“Same here. Ace pays for practically everything. I’ve only spent a little on things I want for recreation – books, CDs, that sort of thing.”
By this time, we’re entering the club that Blackjack has taken us to. ‘King and Queen’ once more has the poker motif of the rest of the place, guarded by a single stallion dressed entirely in black and wearing a pair of sunglasses. Through a glass double door we enter into a small dining area and bar, dark blue with black and red accents. The place is staffed with waitresses dressed like the king and queen on the cards but more provocative with tails and chests almost fully exposed, two stallion bartenders in black and white, and a DJ set up at a booth by a dance floor and a stage with three poles on it. I have the faintest feeling that, despite the current civility and quiet of the place, when the lights come on outside the atmosphere becomes much more intimate and risqué.
Blackjack leads us back to a booth in the shape of a half-circle. He gets in first and scoots towards the back. He’s followed by Roseluck and Untakhan on one side and Ace and myself on the other. Ace looks even paler than usual; even the simple walk must have taken a lot of his energy.
A waitress comes over dressed like the red queen, soft-coated and with striking violet eyes likely tinted by the blue in the room. She’s finely sculpted and sways her hips softly every time she has to make a change in the direction she’s facing. Blackjack, Untakhan, and I are all riveted by her every movement. Roseluck looks almost jealously towards her and Ace hardly even seems to notice her.
We order food and drinks and Blackjack and Ace get to talking as drinks get served. I can only stand a root beer, while Ace gets a soda and whiskey.
“Yes, we just had a chess tournament finish up here last week,” Blackjack says. “En Passant of Vanhoover versus Checkered Space of Canterlot. Quite the match; lasted three hours. They were about to call it a stalemate when En Passant pulled a move and won. Went home fifty thousand bits richer.”
“I would have liked to have seen that one,” Ace replies. “I managed to catch a match last year. En Passant came in third due to a rather fantastic coup in the last third; I knew he’d be going on to bigger things. Did Princess Luna come to judge again?”
“No, but all three Princesses were in the audience. I’ve heard Luna and Cadence both are fond of chess and Celestia requested seats as a sort of treat.”
“Well, it is a fine sport,” Ace says. “One of the few remaining gentlemanly games left.”
“Indeed. You have no idea how many fights I’ve had break out over roulette, craps, or backgammon. Poker’s usually decent and baccarat has so few new entrants the ones that know usually keep quiet.”
“I once heard of an author who used a game of baccarat as an act in one of his thrillers. But when it became adapted for the screen, they switched it to poker. Something about not as many ponies knowing what baccarat is.”
“Oh, you’d be surprised. It’s also a featured game in gambling houses in Las Pegasus and Dodge Junction, the latter of which even holds tournaments.”
The plates come around. I have a small plate of street tacos with a sort of fake steak – flavor and protein without guilt – and Ace has a nicoise salad. Notably, I seem to be having the same meal as Roseluck, who winks across the table to me.
“I just re-felted my baccarat tables, actually,” Blackjack was saying. “How about when we’re finished with lunch we play a couple of rounds to break it in? Then we can head over to the poker tables and let the real fun begin.”
“Certainly sounds like an inviting prospect to me,” Ace replies.
Blackjack turns to me. “Ever played?”
I shake my head. “I only know the count of the cards must add to nine.”
“Yes. Faces are worth zero, aces are worth one, number cards their count; total it up, the last digit’s your score. We like to play ‘chemin de fer’ here, where you can bet against other players, though we like to have a minimum bet of 500 bits at the higher tables and 25 bits at the lower.
“Once the cards are dealt,” Blackjack continued, “you have three options. If your cards total eight or nine, we have a ‘natural’ and you win automatically unless you have eight and someone else has a nine. Otherwise, you have the option to choose another card to increase your score or, if you think no one has a natural, stay where you are. Highest count then wins if no one has a natural.”
“Sounds like a simple enough game,” I say.
“Ah, but it’s quite complicated,” Blackjack says. “Say you have a five. The chances are equal of getting a card that raises or lowers your score, so where do you stand? Similarly, with a six you have more chances of lowering, but it’s not very powerful. So… do you risk or stay?”
“Sounds much like blackjack if the dealer has 14 or less,” Roseluck comments. “Do you hit to get higher or let the dealer take it and hope he busts?”
“Certainly, dear Roseluck,” Blackjack says. He’s blushing at the compliment and quickly leans in to give her a peck on the cheek. “I did not think of it that way.”
We finish with lunch and leave the club. Ace seems relieved to be out of there while Blackjack slips a note worth twenty bits into the chest of the waitress who took care of us. We leave and head back down the mall to the lobby before heading into the door under the banner with ‘Gambling Hall’ on it.
The Gambling Hall is quiet compared to the chaos of the lobby, covered in soft pink windows with grey etchings of playing cards. Blackjack leads us down a red carpet down the center of the hall to a barred window labelled ‘cashier’. As money is exchanged, I hear the rolling of dice, the gentle flipping of cards, and the spinning of roulette wheels. The air is covered in cigarette smoke and many tables have multiple ashtrays and cup holders. Attendants rush around the place, bringing drinks and cleaning the tables. Off in the distance, slot machines and games ring bells and play small tunes at the sound of wins and losses.
Just to make things interesting, both Ace and I pull out 500 bits each worth of chips, each in 25 bit increments.
“You intend to play?” Blackjack asks. “Even though you just learned?”
“I intend to try my hoof at it,” I say. “Won’t hurt to try. If nothing else, I’ll run home with my tail between my legs and admit I don’t have the skill.”
“Don’t forget there’s luck involved,” Blackjack says. “And luck is a fickle mistress.”
“Which is why I don’t tend to court her,” Ace whispers in my ear.
We make our way to an empty table, shaped much like a kidney bean and with a red and black lamp over it, that could stand to hold eight ponies around it. A stallion with a large container filled with cards and holding an oddly-shaped plastic spatula is sitting in the center and he becomes alert as we approach.
“Chemin de fer,” Blackjack says as we sit down at the green-felt table, all of us positioned at one end. “Four players, only; the zebra’s not playing.”
“Yes, Blackjack, sir,” the stallion says, now focused and at attention. “Who shall be the ‘dealer’?”
“I’ll start,” Blackjack says, pulling out a cigarette of his own and lighting it. “Move right from there. Entry bid at 25 bits.”
“Right, sir.”
The stallion – a croupier – gives Blackjack a pure white chip and immediately arranges the container of cards and deftly pulls one out of the open slot. He places a card in Ace’s direction, face down on the felt, and gives one to Blackjack in the same way. Using the spatula, he gently lifts the cards and gives them a quick push in the direction of their owners. The game has started.
Blackjack looks at his own cards. He taps the table twice. The croupier places another card on the table face up and shunts it over to him; a two of spades.
“That ought to do,” Blackjack says. “Unless you have a natural.”
Ace looks at his cards for a moment, keeping them out of view of the rest of us. He silently taps the table, specifically on one of his cards. After the fourth tap, he picks up his cards again and looks at them. He takes a moment as though to think before looking Blackjack dead in the eye.
“No card,” he says.
“Alright, sirs,” the croupier says. “Flip your cards.”
Ace and Blackjack both flip. Ace has a king and a seven. Blackjack has a two, a four, and a three.
“Nine points to position 1,” the croupier says. “Seven points to position 2. Dealer wins.”
Ace throws his cards back to the croupier. Blackjack does as well, and both insert a chip on the table. The croupier takes out a hook-like cane and pulls the chips towards him, as well as putting the discarded cards aside.
“Bet is 50 bits,” the croupier says.
“Pass,” Ace says indifferently.
“Bet is 50 bits,” the croupier repeats to me. “Either you can pass the bet on to madam, or you can bet 50 bits against the bank.”
“Why not?” I say. “Let’s go against Blackjack.”
Blackjack has an amused smirk on his face. “A little risky, eh? I like your style, Caramel.”
The croupier deals out two cards for me and two more for Blackjack. Blackjack takes a minute to look at his cards. He appears satisfied with them and places them on the table.
“No card,” he says. “Over to you, Caramel.”
It’s time to look at my cards. I pull up the cards just enough so that I can see them. I have a five and an eight. Total score of thirteen, which meant I had three points. Had to take my chances. I tap the table twice.
The croupier slides another card over to me with the spatula. This one, face up, is another five.
“Alright,” the croupier says. “Reveal your cards.”
Blackjack reveals his cards. He’s got a six and an ace.
“Seven points to position 1,” the croupier says.
I reveal my cards.
“Eighteen points to position 3,” the croupier says. “Score is eight. Player three wins.”
It’s quite satisfying when the two chips are pushed towards me. I’ve already made 100 bits and I haven’t done anything.
The game continues. Roseluck taps for another card and comes up with six to Ace’s five. Ace flings a single chip over in Roseluck’s direction and the dealer button is passed to me. Rose fails with a four to my eight, bets the bank and loses at five to seven, and soon we’re back to me and Blackjack again with 100 bits on the table and Blackjack potentially paying another 100 more.
The croupier silently deals two cards to me and two to Blackjack.
I look at my cards. I have the ace and seven of hearts to begin with. I flip them over onto the table.
Blackjack’s barely looked at his cards, but as soon as he sees mine his mouth drops.
“Position 1, reveal your cards,” the croupier says indifferently.
Blackjack does so. In them are ten and a jack. A score of zero.
“Natural eight to position 3, a ‘baccarat’ to position 1,” the croupier says. “Dealer wins.”
Blackjack is smiling at me as he places four more chips in the center of the table, but his red eyes are flaming. “Feeling lucky?” he asks.
“I could go one more,” I say.
“Betting the bank,” Blackjack says. “Two hundred bits.”
The croupier nods and pulls out two cards for me and two cards for Blackjack. I look at mine; a two and a five. Seven’s good, but I’m wondering what Blackjack has in his cards.
Ace is tapping the table. Rather louder than one would expect. Each one rings out across the otherwise calm casino. It’s not even a steady beat; it’s more of a racket than anything. Ponies at other tables are beginning to look in our direction.
“Would you please remain quiet?” the croupier asks. “Multiple games are in progress.”
“Apologies,” Ace says with a smirk that tells me he isn’t really sorry at all. But he does stop the tapping.
Having forgotten what I had, I look down at the cards.
I’m pretty sure I didn’t have that before. The five’s the same, but the other card...
“Shall we reveal?” Blackjack says. He has a rather nasty grin on his face.
“Very well,” I say. “I don’t need another. Do you?”
“No.”
The croupier turns to Blackjack first. “Position 1, reveal your cards.”
Blackjack turns his over. He’s got a pair of fours, making a natural eight.
But his mouth drops again when I reveal mine: a five and a four in spades.
“Natural nine to the dealer,” the croupier says. “Natural eight to position 1. Dealer wins.”
Blackjack tosses eight chips out on the table. “What say we play some poker?” he asks impatiently as the croupier slides the sixteen chips over to me. “I dare say we’ve broken in the new felt by now.”
“Certainly,” Ace says. He’s still smirking.
I collect my chips and follow the others. Ace draws back behind Blackjack just a little bit and pats me on the back.
“Good show,” he whispers to me with a wink, and suddenly I’m aware of how exactly the two and the four got switched.
Author's Note
call = matching the currently established bet
Also, apologies if I butchered some of the chemin-de-fer baccarat for any of you card game enthusiasts.
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