That Weekend - Part 2
I walked away from the table and headed back to mine to find the table was about to break. I really had liked that table, even when you are there for the money, poker is more fun when you have a good feeling at the table between players. The tournament had died down, and so had the lists, so I signed up for 5-5 PLO and got called for a new table. I noticed a few well known pros from the area were there, but notably I saw the Asian Icebox. She was the oriental version of the Icebox that Matt Moore encountered out in Vegas. I don't know her name, but I have had the unfortunate chance of having to sit at the tables with her. She is about 6 feet tall, wearing heels that are at least 4-5", always made up, and she doesn't talk at all. She usually plays the biggest game running at HR, and she is very precise when it comes to bet sizes, value, and reading. She is stone cold when you try and strike up a conversation, and has a slight sense of entitlement.
Everyone bought in at or around the max of 1k and there was action galore, with 3 rebuys within 3 orbits. In the straddle I picked up A
K
K
10
and was facing an open to 50 and two calls, I made it 220 to go and get only AI to call. Flop comes A
K
7
. She checks to me and I bet 375, and 5 seconds later get put all in for the other 400 in my stack. It's such a sickening feeling when you get check-potted on flops like these. Twice in my life I have folded middle set on a relatively dry flop to a check/pot in PLO and been right both times. I have a blocker to the only hand that beats me, but I took a minute to think the hand through. The only hands she does this with is QJ10x or AAxx and probably not 77xx. I call after what seemed like an eternity, and after seeing my hand, she asked me what took so long to call....and flipped over AA78. So dirty, plus getting needled a little put me on tilt, because the inner nit in me felt like folding. A spade hits the turn, but a brick on the river felted me. She started talking and I could hear her, but I wasn't listening because I was in a little shock at getting slightly coolered. I told them to reserve the seat, I was going to get more money, but I wanted to re-evaluate whether I wanted to play anymore. This is the psychological torture that is PLO. I went out to smoke and Josh was out there telling me about his antics at the table. He was up 800 or so and was ready to stay there all night.
As we are talking, a familiar face walks out and lights up a Marlboro Red - Willy from Tim's game. He had been MIA recently because he was Tim's little go-fer and Tim had him away from the game for a while. There were no hard feelings between us, and it was kind of like seeing an old friend, but it had only been 6 months. He had recently caught a distribution charge for weed and was lying low, he was lucky he only got probation. During this time he had gotten a steady girlfriend who was naturally supermodel material and we were a little perplexed at how that had happened. Tim walked out too and he came to me and asked to walk and talk. Tim is a big boy, he doesn't walk anywhere unless it is important.
"I'm going to start up the game again, do you want to deal? I can't have Willy deal because he was the one dealing when the decks were set. If you bring a couple players I'll give you the whole night."
I told him that sounded like a plan and that I would make a few calls this weekend. I really didn't think that it was going to go off, but I figured I didn't have anything to lose. Mike's game was a ****show lately and Vito's game was running on his own credit, so I didn't see that running out too well. I know if I did this Tim would give me first option to deal, and it was much closer to home. They both went to go play and Josh went in as well. As I was about to light up another cigarette and forgetting I had a reserved seat in the room, Marcy came out and said she wasn't feeling well - she wanted to go home. I figured it would be better if we go eat AND head back home. Josh was cool with getting a ride home with Willy so we headed out.
I walk back in and tell them to open the seat, then walk straight out the front of the poker room and out to valet. It was a nice night - around 70F in the middle of winter. I tip the valet, get on the road, and think of where to go eat. Marcy isn't hungry and is visibly ill, and I was a little concerned that she was getting a nasty stomach flu that is so common here in Florida during tourist season. I pick up a sandwich at a late night store and figured I would stop by Walgreens to get her something for her cold. I open the door and Marcy pulls my arm keeping me from stepping out.
"Wait, I'm not really sick."
"You've been faking it? Why wouldn't you just tell me?"
"I'm feeling sick, but I'm not actually sick."
"That doesn't make any sense."
"Liam, we need to talk. I'm pregnant."