Saturday's Storyteller: "I looked over at her as what she said finally processed. 'You want to do what?'"

by Belinda Roddie

I looked over at her as what she said finally processed. "You want to do what?"

"You heard me." She spit a thin, orange rivulet of tobacco out of the corner of her mouth, adjusting the brim of her hat with stained fingers. "Shouldn't have to repeat myself."

"Yeah, but...the ranch, and the kids..."

"Aw, heck with the kids, Grant," she scoffed. "They're old enough to wipe both their asses and the cattle's asses. Bottom line, I'm getting out of here."

"You're really going to take this offer? I mean, it seems mighty sketch."

Smiling with nicotine-braised teeth, Jay brushed a patch of dirt off her boot and began walking back to the house, the tails of her jacket bristling.

"Jay Morris," she crowed to me, as I scratched at my hairy chin, "never says no to a good gamble!"

***

Five years ago. That was after I had sold the ranch to my brother. And that was after Jay Morris became the owner of one of the largest casinos in Reno.

It rivaled the grandeur and flash of Las Vegas, the territory she had set up. She had given it a wild west feel with a Dakota plains touch. Everything in the artificial lighting, somehow, reminded me of home. And when Jay came over to me, still wearing that battered black cowboy hat I remember her donning on the grass while she was tending to the steers, I felt the annoying brush of nostalgia brushing my facial canvas.

"Grant," she crooned, extending a manicured hand. Despite her rugged wardrobe, she certainly kept her fingernails polished up.

"Jay."

Jay wrinkled a nose amidst the chorus of slot machines. In the corner were a good half dozen card tables, all occupied. "You look good, boy. What brings you here?"

"Figured I'd be a card dealer."

She laughed. "Didn't think that was up your alley."

"It ain't. But the ranch is sold off, and I feel like having fun."

Jay showed me to her office, and we sat down in big red chairs and stared at each other for a good minute. A man in a black vest came in offering a bottle of white table wine. Two glasses were filled. We drank silently.

"Not as good as the bourbon in cans, huh?" Jay asked, removing both her hat and boots.

"No."

I finally noticed the fake sheriff badge on her vest. It was a rose gold. Too extravagant.

"You'll get the hang of sweetness."

"Mmhmm."

" 'Specially if you work for me."

"Mmhmm."

Jay set down her glass and smiled, tobacco-free. "The tables have turned, haven't they, Grant?"

"You took a gamble. You won."

"I win a lot these days, buddy," she replied, crossing her legs. Behind her was a portrait of some cowboy and Native American. Like the Lone Ranger and Tonto, but more politically correct.

"So can I be a dealer or what?"

She uncrossed her legs. "What made you decide to sell the cattle ranch, Grant?"

"Couldn't manage it. Messed up my legs two odd years ago. I couldn't herd as well."

"And you think your brother could be better?"

"He was itching for ownership."

"Ah."

"Gave me a good bag of money for it."

"Sure."

I sipped my wine. It felt like I was shoving a raw peach down my throat.

"I've been bored, Jay."

"Not so worried about the kids anymore, huh?"

I shook my head. "They love their uncle. They miss you, though."

"They miss the weird older cousin?"

"They miss their buddy. Tony wanted to teach you banjo. You weren't there."

"Sure wasn't."

The wine was taken away, and I refused a cigar from a held out box. Jay refused it, too.

"I try not to be much of a mogul, Grant," she told me as if trying to persuade me. "But Vegas is jealous of me. Eight times, they've tried to get the best of me. I don't cave. I herd cattle here, too, you know."

"Not the same kind of cattle."

"Nope." She chuckled. "The kind with opposable thumbs and disposable income."

"Sounds a mite evil, Jay."

"Nah." She cracked the knuckles on her left hand. "I don't force 'em to come, you know."

Two minutes later, she offered me the black vest. I wore it and got trained by a just post-pubescent boy named Frankie. He was good at dealing. He showed me the best way to shuffle cards and slide out aces. And in a couple of weeks, I got good. I eventually became head dealer and even had my own little office. Not as fancy as Jay's, but I did get my own placard.

In Reno, the snow fell thick that year, and I thought about the ranch. Somewhere, my two kids were playing banjo and pushing the dogs to chase after the calves. My brother would take good care of them. They had learned to forgive both my wife and Jay for succumbing to the neon. Some day, they'd probably forgive me, too.

This week's prompt was provided by Alexis Bensky.