Bucking the Tiger

By Anthony Tolerico

THIS BOOK IS BEING DEVELOPED INTO A FILM BY AZURE COAST PRODUCTIONS, WHICH CAN BE ACCESSED AT AZURECOASTPROD.COM

Bucking The Tiger is the first in a series of books which follow the adventures of Chance McCall, a rowdy full-time professional gambler and part-time bounty hunter, and his girlfriend, Rough Diamond, an exotic

• Language: English
• Publisher: Azure Coast Productions LLC
• Release date: Aug 20, 2019
• ISBN: 9781733324151

Book preview

BUCKING THE TIGER

BY

ANTHONY TOLERICO

Published by Azure Coast Productions

Poste Restante, 4 Allee Roger Salengro,

34800 Clermont L'Herault, France

U.S. Copyright 2018 Copyright Number:

TXu 2- 126-318

Bucking the Tiger:

The phrase 'Bucking the Tiger' was originally associated with the game of faro.  Back in the 19th and early 20th centuries faro was a betting game popular in the United States, particularly in the Wild West.  Many of the miners and cowboys of that period could neither read nor write and the game of faro became known as the 'Tiger' because it took such a big bite out of a player's wallet.  Saloon keepers and casino operators began advertising the game by displaying a sign out in front of their establishments with a tiger painted on it.

  Eventually, the game of faro fell out of favor with gamblers because the odds against 'Bucking the Tiger' were just too great and suckers finally tired of being played for chumps.

  Today, the game of faro is all but forgotten in casino gambling.  But colorful phrases in languages sometimes survive and become bastardized by usage to mean something similar, but not exactly comparable, to their original meaning.  Bucking the Tiger is such a phrase.  Today it has become bastardized in some gambling circles, particularly those in the Western United States, to mean trying to beat any impossible or outlandish odds of ever winning.  So when a gambler says: He's Bucking the Tiger trying to win that, he means the player's chances of winning are one in a million, or almost impossible.     

Chapter 1

Rough Diamond clutched the pole with her left hand as she bent over and smiled at the crowd. She had a body to die for; or to live for; or to kill for.  Depending on your perspective.  From Chance McCall's perspective, it was all three, because Rough Diamond was his girlfriend. 

  He had been sitting at the back bar of the Jaguar Club watching her writhing around a pole for the last several minutes.  At the moment, her left hand was gripping the pole and she was leaning over with her ass pointed directly at him.  She was gently caressing her bottom with the tips of her fingers and pouting seductively at the crowd.  The moment she recognized him at the bar she broke into a broad smile.  A ten thousand volt smile that seemed as if it could light up one of the dazzling neon signs of one of the casinos on the Las Vegas Strip, just a few blocks away.  Or send a charge through a man's heart that he wouldn't recover from for days.  Chance smiled back at her and she stopped caressing her bottom and blew him a kiss.  Even though it felt vaguely effeminate to be doing it in public, in front of everyone, he blew her a kiss back.  What could he do?  He was in love.

  Back to business.  She twisted around the pole in the opposite direction to give the crowd on the other side of the circular stage a view of her perfectly formed ass as well.  Then she began playfully spanking herself. 

  Rough Diamond was, of course, her stage name.  Her real name was Jennifer Diamond.  She adopted it because she favored wearing black leather, or satin, corsets, with a black thong and always tucked a pair of handcuffs in the side of her thong.  It was a put-on, of course.  Like all actresses she was playing a part.  But men obviously loved it because she got a lot of private lap dance business out of it and made a lot of money doing it. 

  She was on her hands and knees now 'working the rim'.  Crawling around the outer rim of the stage getting 'up close and personal'.  She was smiling seductively at the men and the men were lusting back at her, stuffing money in her thong.  Ten.  Twenty.  Fifty dollars at a time.  She acknowledged the high-rollers by patting herself on the ass and then wiggling her ass in thanks directly in front of their face.  It was an effective way of showing her appreciation, and it often led to a private lap dance in one of the 'ultra rooms'; or to several dances where the money could really add up.

  Chance watched her flirting with all the chumps for a living and it bothered him.  But what could he do about it?  That's what she had been doing when they had met and she had a right to choose her own kind of work.  Besides, she made a lot of money at it only working part time. 

  They'd been together three months now and he still couldn't believe that she was really his.  An odds-maker would have put their chances of being together at a hundred-to-one.

  But Chance was a professional poker player and gambler, and he knew that odds could be shortened, and even turned in your favor, by how you played your cards.  When he had first seen Diamond he had been sitting exactly where he was right now in the bar at the back of the club.

  The Jaguar Club was one of those pole dancing clubs designed for a big Saturday night crowd, with three stages with seats all around them and additional tables behind those, plus booths around the outer walls of the club.  It had three 'ultra-rooms' that were dark and secluded where men could pay extra for a private dance.  Which amounted to just that -- a dance.  But the gals did get 'up close and personal' and the view of a perfectly shaped ass three inches from a man's face, grinding away, was worth the money to a lot of men, or the place wouldn't have done so well.

  At the back of the club was a small bar.  The one Chance was sitting at now.  And that's where he had sat when he had first seen her.  He saw Diamond up on stage doing her act and that was it.  He had to have her.  But how?  Why would a stone cold fox like her be interested in him?  A gambler and part time bounty hunter who hadn't made his fortune yet?  The odds were, she'd go for a high-roller with a stack of cash to spend on her, a big house, a luxury car, and a lot of promises.

  But being a gambler he knew that cards, and people, were not always as they seemed to be; and something in his gambler's instinct, a 'tell' maybe, told him that there was more to Diamond than what she appeared to be.  So he asked Nick the bartender about her.

  Nick told him something that surprised him -- and it didn't.  He told him that when she wasn't dancing she always had her nose stuck in a book.  Some kind of text book.  He also told him that she was a student at the university and only worked on weekends and holidays and event nights -- like when the high-rollers were in town for a title fight at the MGM Grand.  And the other girls thought she was snooty at first.  Because she wanted to better herself.  But then they warmed to her because they found out she was nice. 

  So now that he had his 'tell' how should he play his cards?  What he did do was go to the university, bribe an admissions clerk with twenty bucks (government officials in Las Vegas are usually hustlers too; although few will sellout for a mere twenty bucks) and found out what her schedule was and what she was majoring in.  You couldn't make this stuff up -- zoology.  He studied up.

  The next time he came in the club he didn't sit at the bar.  He took a seat center stage when he knew she'd be on.  Then, like everybody else, he watched her dance.  But unlike everybody else, he made eye contact with her and just kept staring at her eyes.  Which was a difficult thing to do.  Not be distracted by her body.  It took all of his professional gambler's discipline to do it.  But he did it.  Then, when she made her rounds around the outside of the stage on all fours, smiling and flirting and wiggling her ass in thanks for the larger denomination bills, he stuffed a couple of fifties in her thong and smiled at her while he did it and, most importantly, looked her directly in the eyes while he was doing it and not at her body.  And she knew.  She smiled that ten thousand volt smile back at him.  And he knew.  His gambler's sense of reading players told him that there was more to her smile than just its usual superficiality.  And that's when he made his play.  He stood up, gave her a final smile, broke eye contact with her, and headed back to the bar.  To the very seat he was sitting in right now.

  Then, a few minutes later, she came to him and asked him if he'd like her to dance for him privately in one of the 'ultra-rooms' and he replied: No.  But I'd like to buy you a drink.

  They had been looking directly into each others' eyes from the moment she had approached him and they still were.  She didn't give him a reply right away.  She just sat down on the bar stool next to him and continued to gaze at him.

  Then Chance said a very curious thing.  He said: It's fitting that this place should be named The Jaguar Club.  And she said: Why?  And he said: Because jaguars are the only big cats that can't be tamed.  There are lion tamers and tiger tamers.  But nobody has ever been able to tame a jaguar.  They're just too wild.  Too unpredictable.  Too driven by their instincts.  Kind of like you, I suspect.  Is that why you like animals so much?

  How did you know I liked animals?  She was still staring at him, mesmerized.

  Because I found out you were a zoology student.  He was still staring her directly in the eyes, purposefully avoiding glancing at the tops of her large, perfectly rounded breasts, bulging out of the top of her black satin corset.  I think I'm going to call you BB.  For beauty and brains too.  Would that be all right with you, if I called you BB? 

  Still staring him in the eyes, she said, Can I ask you something?

  Still staring back, he answered, Sure.

  And she said: Why haven't you been looking at my body?  All the other men do.  You weren't even looking at it when you stuffed the fifties in my thong.  It makes me feel like you didn't enjoy the show.  That you didn't get your money's worth.  Maybe I should give the fifties back.  Then she took the two fifties out of her thong and set them on the bar.

  For the first time since they had met, Chance broke eye contact.  He glanced down at the fifties and back up into her eyes.  I didn't want you to get the wrong idea, he said.

  She stared at him, puzzled.  The wrong idea?

  I didn't want you to think all I was interested in was your body.

  She was stunned.  She didn't know what to say.  So she said something stupid.  She said: I suppose you're just interested in me for my brains?  She said it more sarcastically than she had intended. 

  He picked up the fifties off the bar, stuffed them into the top of her corset between her breasts, and stood up to leave.  I made a mistake, he said.  I thought there was more to you than that.  Then he turned and walked away.

  Like a jaguar, her instincts kicked in and she chased after him.  I'm sorry, she said.  I didn't mean to be rude.  It's just that all my life...well, since I was a teenager...men have...

  He stopped and turned and looked her directly in the eyes again.  Not all men, he said.  Not me.  Look, I don't know you yet.  Maybe I could be wrong.  But I think there's a lot more to you on the inside than there is on the outside and I'd like to find out.  Am I attracted to the way you look?  Your face?  Your body?  Of course I am.  I'm not gay.  What do you think?  But is that all I'm interested in?  No.  Not by a long shot.

  And that's how she became his, three delightful months ago.

  And now she was walking towards him again, her show completed, her 'specials' completed, and she was smiling at him, just as before, looking him in the eyes, just as before.  But it was different now and it was the same.  Because they were boyfriend and girlfriend.  And because he loved her and she loved him.  And they had beaten the long odds against them.  They had 'Bucked the Tiger' and won.  Because they were both jaguars at heart.   

Chapter 2

Diamond kissed him passionately on the lips as he sat on his bar stool and he felt as if he was the most envied man in the room.  Which he was.  He had laughed out loud when he had heard all the stories that the other girls at the club had made up about him and her.  Diamond had told him about them.  'He was secretly her pimp'.  'He was her 'Svengali' and could make her do anything he wanted her to do'.  'Even though she wasn't supposed to be dating customers of the club, she got away with it because he was secretly a member of organized crime'.  It didn't bother him one little bit.  But it bothered him that it might bother her.  He had asked her if any of the stories bothered her and she told him that she didn't care.  But he suspected that she might.  Jealousy was a funny thing and a winner had to learn to deal with it.  The first thing a gambler learned, if he's a winner, is that everybody is going to hate you when you win.  It was just something you had to get used to.  Losers always hated winners because they'd rather hate winners than become winners themselves.  That's what made them losers.   

  She stood in front of him between his legs and when she was done kissing him she hugged him and he hugged her back.  She placed her head on his chest and just stood there feeling the warmth of his body.  She had never had anyone who had loved her before.  Not ever.  Because of the way she looked and because of her body, a lot of men had lusted after her.  But no one had ever fallen in love with her.  And she had never fallen in love with any of them.  How could she?  A couple of times she thought she had, but it turned out they were just using her.  She had even lived with a man once for a few months.  But when she found out he had been running around on her, she moved out and had never depended on a man since.  But now it was different because Chance was different.  Because he was sincere.  If anyone had asked her how did she know that he was sincere, she couldn't have explained it.  But she knew.  She guessed that's what love was all about.  You just knew.

  She broke from her hug and stood back up right.  It took her a second before she spoke.  She was distracted by his eyes.  Finally, she said, Sammy's looking for you.  She looked him directly in the eyes when she said it and he gazed back at her, smiling.

  Is that so? he said, looking right through her.  Right into her soul.

  He had the most penetrating, mesmerizing, dominant stare she had ever encountered.  It was as if he could hypnotize her at a glance.  No wonder the other girls had started calling him her 'Svengali'.  Yeah, that's what he said, she replied, still transfixed by his gaze.

  Do you know what he wants? he asked.

  She didn't say a word.  She just shook her head.  When he gazed at her like that there was nothing she could do but gaze back. 

  She had her hands around his waist and his hands were resting on her hips.  He patted her softly on her left hip with his right hand and said, Then I guess I'd better go upstairs and see what he wants.

  She felt like saying, 'don't leave me'.  But she felt silly and childish and girlish even thinking about it, so she said, I guess you'd better.

  He smiled at her a final time, broke off his gaze, and gave her another affectionate pat on her hip.  I'll just be a minute, he said.  He stood up and left.

  I'll get changed while you're gone, she called after him, as he walked away.  I'll be waiting for you right here at the bar.

  He turned around, nodded at her, smiled, and headed up the stairs.  Whatever Sammy wanted it must have been important, or illegal, he thought.  Because if all Sammy wanted to do was talk to him, he could have just called him on his smartphone.  He had his number.  Sammy only avoided using the telephone when he didn't want something getting out.  Chance thought about what it might be as he headed up the stairs to the 'backroom'.

  Sammy Goldstein was a sports handicapper and ran one of the biggest sports handicapping operations in Las Vegas out of the 'backroom' of The Jaguar Club.  Actually, he owned the club.  So it was no surprise.  But everybody in the know in Vegas called it 'The Backroom'.  Chance figured they did it because it sounded more mysterious that way.

  What Sammy's 'backroom' consisted of was half a dozen guys sitting around a table talking on phones and talking with each other about the hundreds of various football, basketball, baseball, tennis, golf, boxing and other sporting events transpiring at any one time and fixing the odds on them.  It was a tremendous responsibility and every man was an absolute expert.  They all lived and slept and sweated sports, all day and all night, twenty four hours a day, seven days a week, three hundred and sixty five days a year.  And there was a good reason for this.  A single point difference on a spread could cost the bookies a million dollars, or more, if their books got out of balance and they had to pay-off too much on a number of lopsided bets.

  Consequently, Sammy and his men knew, because they had to know, everything there was about a sporting event before they set the odds.  They knew before the press did if a player was injured and how badly.  They knew if a quarterback had just been dumped by his girlfriend.  They knew who was on prescription drugs.  And who had developed a cocaine habit.  They also knew which coaches and players were susceptible to taking bribes and which games were outright fixes – sure things that a quarterback, or a star basketball player might throw because he had a bet down on the opposing team through an intermediary.  There wasn't anything about sports that Sammy and his men didn't know.  Which was why he was the top sports book handicapper in town.  He knew one other thing that a lot of people never learn.  That the world runs on numbers.  Odds.  Percentages.  Chances.  Not hopes and dreams.

  Chance didn't bother knocking on the door, he just walked in.  He had known Sammy for years.  Sammy had been a kind of second father to him.  He and his own father had had a falling out years ago when he had decided to become a professional gambler and moved to Vegas.  His father had wanted him to go to college.  Become a doctor, or a lawyer, or something respectable.  But his heart wasn't in it.  So he left and made a new life for himself.  The way he wanted it to be.  And, so far, it hadn't turned out too bad.  He was his own boss.  He made his own decisions.  And he didn't answer to anyone.  How many people could say that?

  You wanted to see me? Chance said, as he closed the door behind him.

  Sammy was talking on the phone and motioned with his hand that he'd be right with him.

  Sammy was a short, fat, little Jewish man with a bald head who wore glasses that looked like they were made in 1950.  But behind the glasses his eyes sparkled with enthusiasm and intelligence and they took in everything they saw.  Even while his mind was calculating the odds. 

  Chance could hear him say, Green Bay by nine, before he hung-up.

  Sammy turned towards Chance with his arms outstretched and a big smile on his face and said, What?  You left town, maybe?  I don't hear from you for weeks.  Or has it been months?  Doris is very angry with you.  He wagged his finger at him, jokingly.  There's only one reason Doris won't be mad at you for not calling and that's if you're in love.  He pointed his finger at Chance, knowingly.  That's it, isn't it?  You're in love.  I knew it!  I knew it!

  Chance looked down at the floor and shuffled his feet awkwardly.  Sammy was the only person in the entire world who could do this to him.  Make him feel bashful about his own feelings.  Maybe it was because Sammy was so outgoing.  Or maybe it was because Sammy was so sincere.  But whatever it was, Sammy had a way of getting to him that always put him on the defensive emotionally.  Still, he didn't mind.  That was Sammy.  It was just how their relationship was.

  Sammy went on.  I knew it.  I told Doris the other night.  She said, 'How come we never see Chance any more'?  And I said, 'Because I think he's in love'.  And she said, 'With who?  Is she a nice girl?'  And I said, 'What do you think?  Of course she's a nice girl.  Would Chance fall in love with any other kind'?  And she said, 'A man's got to be careful. There are all kinds of women out there'.  And I said, 'Shush woman.  Chance knows what he's doing'.  And then she shut up and we didn't talk for another hour.  And to tell you the truth, I got some peace.

  Chance couldn't help but laugh.  You wanted to see me? he finally asked.

  Sammy's facial expression changed.  He became very serious.  Step into my private office, he said.

  There was a small office just off the 'bull-pit' where Sammy conducted his private meetings.  It was sparsely furnished with only a desk and a couple of chairs.  But the back wall was covered with signed autographed photos of Sammy with various sports stars.

  Chance sat down in one of the guest chairs while Sammy leaned back in his seat behind the desk with his feet up and his fingers interlocked behind his head.  Spinetti's running a Money Craps game for some very high-rollers next Saturday night in one of the penthouses of one of the hotels on The Strip.  I can't say which one yet.  And he needs a craps hustler to fade the action on the 'wrong way' bets and I thought of you.  Interested?

  Chance nodded without hesitation.  What kind of action are we talking about?

  Big.  Sammy both smiled and nodded when he said it and his eyebrows went up.  Really big.

  What's my end? Chance asked.

  One percent of what you win.  But Spinetti's supplying all the bankroll.  All you have to do is bet it and win.

  Tell him I'm in, Chance said.

  Sammy smiled.  I thought you'd say that.  He hesitated for a moment, then he said, There's one other thing.  I'm not sure if I should even be telling you this.  Because I know how you are.  But you're going to find out about it on your own anyway.  So I might as well tell you...You know about the Platinum Club?  How its designed especially for 'whales'?  How it takes a million dollar line of credit to even become a member?

  Chance shrugged.  Sure.  I've heard about it.

  Well they're having a Poker tournament.  It's going to be televised on the sports cable network to promote their expansion.  And it's going to be for a million dollars.  It's a freeze-out with only twenty players.  Each player putting up fifty thousand dollars.  Winner takes all.

  Chance could feel the excitement of competition already surging through his veins.  Sounds exciting, he said.

  Sammy held up his hands as if to say, 'Hold it right there'.  It's going to be Seven-Card Stud.  They want something different.  Something to make their tournament standout.  So they decided to make it a Seven-Card Stud match.

  So?  Chance shrugged.

  So?  Are you crazy.  Seven-Card Stud isn't like Hold-em.  It's not a percentage game.  You can't just calculate the odds and play the percentages.  Anything can happen in Stud Poker.  And my advice to you is to give it a pass.  Even if you can get the money up to enter the contest, there are plenty of regular matches you can enter with a lot less risk where you can do very well.

  Not with only twenty players, there's not.

  Maybe so.  But this tournament is going to attract the world's very best. The cream of the crop.  The very highest-rollers.  They can afford to lose fifty thousand.  You can't.  Now, I know you don't have that kind of money.  But I know you, and I suspect you're going to try to hustle it up.  But, as your friend and your mentor, I'm telling you, don't even bother.  As a handicapper I can tell you that the odds against you winning are just too great.  If you do enter, you'll be 'Bucking the Tiger' all the way.  My advice.  Give it a pass.

  Chance thought for a second and then said, Sammy, I am absolutely positive that that's good advice.  But the payoff's just too attractive to pass up.  Besides, all of the other players will be in the same boat as I am.  Seven-Card Stud is just as unpredictable for them as it is for me.  Plus, I never liked playing the percentages anyhow.  Fast and loose is how I play.  And a fast and loose player, like myself, might even have an advantage in a game like that.  So, I'll tell you right now, I'm going to enter if I can hustle up the fifty.

  Sammy shook his head.  Don't be a chump, he said.  Play it smart.  Wait for a regular tournament.

  There aren't any for that kind of money until the World Series of Poker at Binions and that's a year away.  Sammy, I'm young.  Still in my twenties.  If I can win that million dollars, it would change the course of my life forever.  If I do hustle up the money and lose it, there's still plenty of time for me to have a dozen more chances.

  And if you lose you get nothing.  Nothing but heartache.  If they 'gut' you in a tournament like that, it's hard to come back from.  It can affect the confidence of your playing.  I've seen it happen.  Poker is a sport like any other.  Losing a big one like that can stay with you for years.

  Chance nodded, then shrugged.  Nothing ventured nothing gained, he said.

  Sammy just sat there shaking his head.

Chapter 3

It was the next day.  It was about eleven o'clock on a Sunday morning and they were just waking up.  Actually, Diamond was just waking up; Chance was still sleeping.  They were lying on their sides in Diamond's queen sized bed in her condo with Chance's arm draped across her from behind.  She could feel something hard pressing against her bottom and she smiled.  Hadn't he had enough? she mused.  She picked at her eye with the tip of her fingernail to get some of the 'sleepy stuff' out of it.

  What a nice night they had had.  When Chance had returned from talking to Sammy he was in an enthusiastic mood but he wouldn't