Palming Aces

Palming Aces

Slyly, oh so very smoothly, Val palmed the ace from the long sleeve of her dress to her right hand. Yes, she would walk away with the money tonight. She usually did. Valery was an exempt liar. She considered it her greatest talent. She had the face of Clara Bow, a look envied by most women. Her wild style of dress was rebellious and provocative even in the current decade, the "roaring twenties" they were now calling it. Between her easy deception, her stunning beauty, and her ability to shamelessly cheat poor men out of their money, she was fairly well off. Val took a sip of whatever was in the glass the bartender had just served her. Oh, would alcohol taste so good once the prohibition ended? Well, she decided with a smirk, drinking certainly wouldn't be as fun.
Three of the players folded. She and Jimmy were the only players left. A pile of money sat between them, and in her hand were the four cards that would win the game. She took another sip of her drink as she observed Jimmy to decide what his next move would be. He seemed pretty confident. Had that look in his eye. Started smiling at the money as if it were his already. He raised the stakes, she placed a few more bills on the table, carefully controlling her expression, trying to appear confident but a little nervous. Trying to distract him a little by running her fingers through her curly blonde hair. To look innocent enough that she would never be accused of cheating. Jimmy smacked his cards down on the table with a "Ha!" and a peal of laughter. Val simply smiled, breathed a devious chuckle, and gently placed her cards upright in front of her.
Jimmy stopped laughing. His face dropped. His expression was that of a man whose house is burning before his eyes as a result of his own mistake. Val lighted a cigarette and began stacking the bills in her right hand. "Don't you know, Jim? You shouldn't gamble with money you can't afford to lose." It seemed the man was about to cry. "What will I tell Helen? We need that money. Without it... I dunno what I'm gonna do... I just dunno." His face was in his hands. His hair a mess from running his fingers through it.
"Nobody made you play." Val let out a long breath of smoke, folded the wad of bills, and placed them in her purse. "But, Jimmy, I'm feeling generous. I'll make you an offer. A good friend of mine is looking to hire a man like you to do some work for him. The pay is real good. You agree to help out my friend, and I'll loan you the money back. What do you say?"
"I'd say I'm desperate. If it's honest work, I'll do it. So, is it?" The woman's graceful hand reached over to the ashtray and crushed out the cigarette butt. She shrugged. "More or less. But you are not exactly in a good position to refuse my offer. You see? You pull one job for my friend, and you will be well paid. Buy your wife a new dress and treat her to dinner and a movie. Or, you could walk home without this month's paycheck and tell your wife that you're going to have to cut back on groceries for a while." Her eyes studied him closely. She could tell he was going to give in. How could he not?
"Alright. Fine. I'll do it." Val smiled brightly and handed him the wad of cash from her purse. He grabbed at it greedily and counted it. "Oh, Al?" Val called to someone on the other side of the room. "Would you come here a moment, please?" Jimmy looked up to see a stocky man standing behind Val. He was smoking a cigar, wearing an expensive looking suit and a fedora.  And he had a long scar running down his face. Al Capone.
Val touched his hand and asked, "Al, would you buy my friend here a drink?" Without looking up the man motioned to the bartender who quickly brought a glass of moonshine, placed it in front of Jimmy, and hurried away. "So," said Capone, "You work for me now, huh?"
"I agreed to do one job. That's it. After that I walk away and we never speak again." Jimmy was surprised by his own boldness. The truth was he was terrified. Capone was the richest and most wanted gangster in the US of A. He was guilty of everything from jaywalking to murder. Bootlegging was where he made his fortune. This confounded prohibition had made him richer than the president Hoover himself.
"Alright. One job. Tomorrow night, I want you to meet me here at 10 pm sharp. You got that? Don't be late." With that he turned and strutted away, tilting his head back and breathing out smoke. Jimmy couldn't stand the place any more. He stood abruptly, nearly spilling his drink, and walked out of the speakeasy, all the while saying to himself over and over, "I'm never gamblin' again."