Suddenly, and for the first time since they had sat down at the table, Oeufcoque communicated in words other than simple instructions.
–What is?
–You are.
–I am?
–I do believe we really have a chance. We could even end up with the money we need to move on to the next level.
–That’s what I was aiming for all along. Was that wrong of me?
Balot felt rather insecure all of a sudden, but Oeufcoque assuaged her feelings.
–No, just carry on the best you can. There’s not much I can do either way, at this stage.
Balot felt somewhat happier and snarced him again.
–I just have this feeling that I know where the ball is going to land.
–You can predict it?
–More of a gut feeling.
Just then: “Is this your first time at roulette, young lady?” The voice came as one of the dealers was distributing the table’s winnings after a spin.
Balot looked up at the speaker.
This time Bell Wing stared at her intently.
–Yes, ma’am, Balot answered truthfully. If Bell Wing glanced at Balot’s electronic voicebox around her neck, she said nothing about it.
Instead, Bell Wing continued in a different vein. “Your eyes are sparkling. As if everything is new to you. I can see that you’re enjoying watching the ball as it spins around.”
Balot nodded. This was how she actually felt, after all. She was genuinely getting into the game. But there was another factor.
–I’m enjoying the game because you’re the croupier.
Bell Wing gave a small nod of acknowledgement. Thank you, she seemed to say. A generous gesture.
“Still, you’re planning something big, aren’t you?” said Bell Wing. “Have you got something against this casino? A grudge?”
–Why do you say that?
“It’s not me who’s saying it. It’s your chips.”
Reflexively Balot shot a glance down at her chips. Then she peered back up at Bell Wing. Balot realized she had goose bumps. Just as she had been reading Bell Wing and the table, Bell Wing had been reading her.
How much had Bell Wing noticed? Everything, no doubt. Balot’s betting patterns, habits, personality. Balot realized this and tried not to show it on her face.
“It’s the croupier’s job to read her customers’ minds by the way they bet.”
–It’s nothing personal against you, ma’am.
Balot’s reply was instant, and Bell Wing’s lips rose in a smile for the first time. “So why did you choose my table?”
–Because I thought you were cool. Another immediate reply.
Bell Wing said nothing more and turned her hand back to the wheel.
Her eyes flashed.
Balot sensed that the croupier’s whole body wanted to move along with her eyes, to focus on a single point. That single point was a number on the layout—the number that she would be aiming for next spin.
Two black. The first number that Balot had placed a chip on, and the win that she had been allowed.
Bell Wing’s hand moved for the ball. Balot’s hand moved in response. Balot’s chips came down as the wheel was spun.
The ball was released, and it sped into the bowl in a smooth movement. The numbers melted into one, and Balot realized that the angle of descent was going to be steeper than she had originally anticipated.
Hastily Balot grabbed another chip to follow the ball, but the moment had passed.
“No more bets.” A dignified voice stayed Balot’s hand.
Before long the wheel swallowed the ball. The rotation slowed down and then stopped completely.
“Three red,” Bell Wing called out calmly.
The dolly was placed on the layout, and chips were collected and distributed against the rustling backdrop.
Balot’s five-hundred-dollar stake was swallowed up by the ocean of chips.
Again, Balot felt Bell Wing notice her, even if the croupier didn’t actually look at her this time.
Balot pursed her lips to show her disappointment. She was acting, of course. She did feel disappointed, but it was hard to tell what was really the cause of her scowl.
Bell Wing’s movements had been a feint. She had noticed Balot’s observations and drawn her into betting on the wrong number—a sophisticated ploy.
Bell Wing stood there calmly and asked Balot a question. She asked whether Balot still thought she was “cool,” even after pulling a stunt such as this one. Balot couldn’t help smiling back.
Bell Wing responded to Balot’s smile with a cold gaze. “This is my job, you know.”
–I understand.
“There’s such a thing as a craftsman’s pride in doing your job properly. I have it. I also have a duty. So I’m going to obstruct you. Don’t think that you won the first game because I was being kind to you. I was just doing my job. Now that you know all this, don’t you think you’d be better off at another table?”
It was more than Balot had expected. Bell Wing had her number, completely, and didn’t care who knew it. She had made her feelings clear: I have no intention of letting you win any more at this table and will do everything I can to stop you.
Balot touched her choker with her hand to release her voice.
–I’d like to stay here and play a little longer, if that’s all right with you.
“Do you think that I’m somehow going to help you?”
–A game is a game. I’ll just learn from you as we go along.
“Learn from me?”
Balot nodded. She found her own articulateness a little unexpected, but she continued.
–Yes. I don’t know what exactly. But I have a feeling that I’ll be able to pick up something useful.
Bell Wing nodded. “Fine. If it means that much to you, I won’t try and stop you. But don’t say I didn’t warn you. If your luck turns sinister, don’t expect any mercy.”
–Sinister?
But Bell Wing didn’t answer.
She turned back to the wheel and touched the bowl.
This woman, this wheel, this game—they were all so interesting. Balot was suddenly overwhelmed by emotion. It was unstoppable. She had no idea where it would lead her.
–Take care, Balot, Oeufcoque warned her. For a moment she was concerned that Oeufcoque might try and stop her, and she snarced him back vigorously.
–I’m going to play at this table and win. This is what I want.
–Your opponent is well attuned to your feelings at the moment. To your aggression. She’s completely prepared for you.
–Aggression?
It was only when Oeufcoque spelled it out in so many words that Balot realized that aggression was, indeed, the emotion that she was feeling.
She let go and saw her feelings dissipate into the ether. Bell Wing would have been able to use Balot’s aggression to her advantage—just like she had with the 3 red a minute ago—and Balot knew it.
What Balot needed now was not aggression but certainty. Knowing where the ball would land with certainty.