I rattled
the dice in my hands with everyone else around. Nat stood beside me, with Jack
on the other side and Wally at the end of the table. The rest of the table was
filled with regular people crowding in to get in on my “hot streak.”
I tossed
the dice hard, but expelled a thin, precise stream of air that made the dice
dance just the way I wanted them, finally showing a 4 and a 3.
“Seven, a
winner,” called the croupier.
He used the
rack to push the dice back in my direction as well as my winnings, which
stacked up to be several thousand dollars.
This beats the insurance agent day job, for
sure.
Wally,
though, at the other end, shook his head, disapproving of my technique.
Nat leaned
in close. “Remember, light enough to not even rustle a girl’s skirt.”
“I’d prefer
that kind of practice,” I grinned.
“Not until
you can do this,” but she put a hand on my ass and squeezed hard.
I rattled
the dice again.
There are worse ways to train.
“Let it
ride,” I said.