‘Well…’ Nadia folds her hands under her chin, elbows still rudely in place. ‘I didn’t stay lucky at roulette. No-one stays lucky forever. That’s the classic gambler’s issue isn’t it. Not knowing when to take your gains and run.’
‘Yeah, no. That’s not going to happen to me.’
‘Oh-kay.’
It’s actually lucky for Nadia that she’s sonice(and so pretty) because the other players are a lot more proficient than she is and – now that she’s decided she isn’t folding immediately – would definitely be getting irritated with how she’s slowing the game down with all her questions if she weren’t just so lovely.
In fact, an older man called Howard (not un-Roger like) seems to be positively enjoying explaining, inthemost patronising manner possible, how to raise someone. He’s mansplaining in a way that will give all men a bad name; he’s literally telling her how to do very basic mental arithmetic. As in literally how to add two and two.
It’s halfway through Howard’s explanation that I suddenly realise.
Nadia is lovely, and kind. But she isn’t asaint. I’ve seen her get irritated before. She’stootolerant of Howard. I think she knows how to play poker.
I begin to watch her very carefully, and realise that the careful watching is reciprocal.
With the exception of me, everyone at the table is very surprised when Nadia says, all eyes wide open, guileless smiles, ‘Am I right in thinking I got lucky?’ as she places four aces on the table, straight after I’ve shown my full house.
I laugh. She’s clearly played before but she also clearly did get lucky, because it’s obviously fairly rare to get a full house.
Several increasingly intense rounds later, I have discovered that Nadia now seems to get lucky every single round, be it with a good hand or a bad hand. She knows when to fold, she knows when to gamble big, she justknows. And the weird thing is, I’m pretty sure that I’ve begun to be able to read her, except… it doesn’twork. It’s like she can read mebetter. Or alternatively she is in fact having the luckiest evening of her life and it’s unfortunate that she wasn’t playing for real money.
When I’ve demonstrated the gambler’s crucial failing of not quitting while I was ahead and she has a lot more chips stowed in two more velvet bags, and we stand up from the table, she says, ‘Well that was fun. Who knew someone could get so lucky at both a game of chanceanda game of skill in one evening? Assuming itisskill.’
‘Ha,’ I say. ‘Do you play a lot?’ Clearly, she does.
‘In your words, who knows?’ She laughs. ‘I did warn you. I’m having a lucky evening.’
‘So what next?’
‘I’m not good at blackjack. I’m quitting while I’m ahead. Also, I want to see what’s happening in the other rooms.’
After we’ve given our chip bags to a man on the door and he’s recorded our names, I follow her out of the room. I don’thaveto stay with her (although it’s obviously better if I do, so that she won’t get harassed by anyone else) but, if I’m honest, I’m loving her company.
‘You know what Ireallyloved in there?’ Nadia murmurs to me as we move towards the next room, from which we hear music.
I lean in to hear her answer.
‘The way you couldn’t stop looking at my elbows,’ she says, just for me, fixing my eyes with hers. ‘Like they were offending yousomuch, but you very tolerantly weren’t going to say anything because how was ignorant me to know.Lovedit.’
I laugh – she’s completely right – and try not toadorethe way she’s standing so close to me right now. And not to wonder what else she’s completely right about. And why I’m wondering that.
I’m still looking at her, and she’s still looking at me.
I have no idea what we were just talking about. She has some shimmery make-up on round her eyes, which makes them look mysterious and as though you could drown in their depths. Her lips curve in a smile that makes me question whether she knows what I’m thinking about her eyes, not just her elbows.
‘Would you like…?’ she asks.
I lean even closer. Our faces are barely an inch apart now.
‘Yes?’
‘To go to the silent disco?’
‘Oh. Yes. Sure.’ What was Iexpectingher to ask then? I don’t know.
‘Suresure?’
‘Yep.’
