Lost Wages — an action thriller in Vegas

LOST WAGES

Four of a kind. The odds of pulling a pair of Aces in the deal were low. Jack House almost went all in on the first round of betting.

But there was a smug little son of a bitch in a Western shirt and Elvis sunglasses who won the last three hands and Jack wanted to take him for some of his money.

So he tossed in a chip, just a buy in to see the turn.

“I’m in,” he licked his lips.

He really needed this money. Lot rent was due three days ago, and Ms. Katsopolis was hounding the step of his RV to collect. He had vowed last time to never be late again after his landlady made arrangements to extend him credit. Jack wasn’t sure if he could fuck a senior citizen again. It would be one thing if the former showgirl retained the toned fitness of her ancient glory, but decades of smoking and thin mints had not been kind. He shivered at the memory of sagging skin and flabby wattles as Western shirt put his chip in.

“Tell,” the smug man grinned under his shades.

It was unprofessional and unnecessary as every player had seen it. The other four players wasted no time in debate before joining the pot.

Jack almost shivered again.