He flushes. "I'm not stalling."
I shrug, cool as ice. "Whatever you want to call it, old man."
"Damn you," he swears, throwing his cards down. "I fold."
My arms reach out and rake in the money. They're all staring at me. "Oh," I say. "I bet you're wondering what I had? But you're all too professional to ask, aren't you?" I stand and start to stuff the cash and chips in my purse. "I think Ill call it a night."
"Wait right there," the Texan says, getting up. "I want to see those cards."
"Really? I thought you had to pay to see them. Are the rules different for Texans?"
"They are when you've got fifty grand of my money, bitch. Now show me."
I dislike being called a "bitch" more than a "child."
"Very well," I say, flipping over my cards. "You would have won. That's the last time I show a hand you didn't pay to see. Now do you feel better? You were bluffed out of your wrinkled skin, old man."
He slams the table with his fist. "Who are you anyway?"
I shake my head. "You're a sore loser, and I've wasted enough time on you." I turn away. One of his partners grabs my arm. That is a mistake.
"Hold on now, honey," he says. The others move closer.
I smile. "Yes?" Of course I am protected by the casino. I need only raise my voice and these men will be thrown out But I dislike going to others for help,when I am so capable of taking care of myself. Dinner will be a four-course meal tonight, I think. "What can I do for you?" I ask.
The man continues to hold on to my arm but doesn't respond. He glances at the Texan, who is clearly the boss. The Texan has regained his smile.
"We would just like to play some more, honey," he says. "That's only fair. We need a chance to win our money back."
My smile widens. "Why don't I just give you the money back?"
My offer confuses him. The Texan shrugs. "If you want. I'll be happy to accept it."
"Good," I say. "Meet me at the west end of the hotel parking lot in ten minutes. We'll go for a little drive. You'll get all your money back." I glance at the others. "The only condition is you must all come."
"Why do we have to go anywhere?" the Texan asks. "Just give it to us now."
I shake off the other's hold on me. "Surely you're not afraid of little old me, sugar daddy?" I say sweetly.
The men laugh together, a bit uneasily. The Texan points a finger at me.
"In ten minutes," he says. "Don't be late."
"I never am," I reply.
We meet as planned and drive a short distance fromtown, each in bur own cars. Then I lead them off the road and into the desert a few miles, stopping near a low-lying hill. The time is eleven at night, the eveningcool and clear, the almost full moon brilliant against the night sky. The men park beside me and climb out They are afraid of me. I can smell their fear. Except for the big boss, they are armed. The bulges beneath their coats are noticeable. I smell the gunpowder in their bullets. They probably figure I am setting them up to be robbed. They study the terrain as they walk toward me, puzzled that I am alone. They are not very-subtle. Two of them have their hands thrust in their coat pockets, their fingers wound around their handguns. The Texan steps in front and reaches out to me.
"Give us your bag," Tex orders.
"All right." I hand him my bag. The money is inside, much to his pleasure. His eyes are wide as he counts it. I know he had expected to find a gun in the bag. "Are you satisfied?" I ask.
Tex nods to a partner. I am frisked. Roughly.
"She's cool," the partner mumbles a moment later, backing away.
Tex stuffs the money in his pockets. "Yeah, I'm satisfied. But I don't get it. Why did you drag us all the way out here?"
"I'm hungry," I say.
He grins like the crooked oil baron that he is. "We would have been happy to have taken you to dinner, honey pie. We still can. What would you like?"
"Prime ribs," I say.
He slaps his leg again. Must be a nervous gesture with him. "Goddamn! That's my favorite. Ribs dripping with red juice. We'll take you out and get you some right now." He adds with a phony wink, "Then maybe we can have a little fun afterward."
I shake my head as I take a step toward him. "We can eat here. We can have a picnic. Just the five of us."
He glances at my car. "Did you bring some goodies?"
"No. You did."
His impatience is never far away. "What are you talking about?"
I throw my head back and laugh. "You're such a fake! Your politeness only appears when it is useful to you. Now that you have stolen the money I won fair and square, you want to take me out for dinner."
Tex is indignant. "We did not steal this money. You offered to return it to us."
"After pressure from you. Let's call a spade a spade. You're a crook."
"No one calls me that and gets away with it!"
"Really? What are you going to do? Kill me?"
He steps forward and slaps me across the face with the back of his hand. "Bitch! You just be happy I'm not that kind of man."
I put a hand to my mouth. "Aren't you that kind of man?" I ask softly. "I see your heart, Mr. Money Bags. You have killed before. It's good we meet tonight, out here in the desert. If you lived, you would probably kill again."
He turns to leave. "Let's get out of here, boys."
"Wait," I say. "I have something else to give you.
He glances over his shoulder. "What?"
I take another step forward. "I have to tell you who I really am. You did ask, remember?"
Tex is in a hurry. "So, who are you? A Hollywood star?"
"Close. I am famous, in certain circles. Why just a few days ago the entire LAPD was chasing me around town. You read about it in the papers?"
A wary note enters his voice. Once again, his men glance around, this time looking for Arab backups. "Youre not connected to that group of terrorists, are you?"
"There were no terrorists. That was just the cops trying to cover their asses. It was just me and my partner. We caused all the ruckus."