Yes more please, awesome stories keep it up.

Feel free to ask any questions if you think I missed something. Sometimes I can forget important info, and do a quick proofread and go right over it.

Before I get any further, let me introduce a few more characters into the story.

Nice Shoes Ryan - I had met Ryan through playing PLO at a local casino. He was about 50, divorced, and always wore a polo shirt, designer jeans, and of course, nice ****ing shoes. He worked for a large shoe store franchise, and got the newest sneakers for the best deal. He made 6 figures, but he, like many others, was a complete degen. He would call huge raises in bad spots, and either go broke, or get a huge stack, and eventually go broke. He rarely cashed out big. He was probably the nicest guy at the table, never got in an argument, he just wanted some action in his life.

Drunk Jim - I had played cash with Drunk Jim before, and always thought he was homeless. He was always at the 1/2 NL tables wasted, unshaven, and looked like he hadn't showered in days. In reality, he was a hard worker, was hilarious, and was probably smarter than 90% of the table. He had a knack for needling people when they were down, but never intended to start any fights.

The NA Crew - All of Vito's friends ended up being guys that were in Narcotics Anonymous. There was the Pornstar, Harry, Anthony, and Wild Will. They were all gamblers.

The Fallout and the Colombian.

One Saturday night, Mike decided to have a second game at German's house and did it on the fly, with not much planning. I decided that night to go to the local casino and hope one of the PLO games ran. I was with Sally, and she asked if I would play 1/2 at her table. I wouldn't coach her during hands, but I would go outside and tell her what was good/bad, and had to have her step up her aggression. She ended up doing well, and the PLO game was not getting off, so I called up Tim, who was at German's to ask if he would put me in the game, as he owed me a few buyins from the old game. He said sure if you can bring one more person. Deal.

We drive over and show up, and its 7 handed, perfect timing. I don't have to risk anything, get free food and beer (Sally wanted to eat/drink too), and am closer to home. I picked up AJss UTG, make it 15, get called by Junior, a local car salesmen's son, and the flop comes J85r. I lead out for 25, and he makes it 65. I call, turn is a 2. Check, check. River is an A, and I know that Junior will stab at any pot he can on the river when he has missed, believable or not. I check, he bets 75, I move in for 220 total and he snaps me off with 1010. Not sure what he put me on, but Ill take the double. I would always tip 10 bucks, as a dealer in this game it was plus EV to tip big to encourage others to tip the same. I flop two more sets on an A high board and get paid, I just always had it. I was on about 1100, and I cash out, as Sally is down about 400 and does not look happy. It was definitely Waffle House time.

We leave, and off the interstate is a Waffle House I will probably end up getting a heart attack from. We park our cars there and carpool, as we live in different towns. She is crying again, feeling like she has gone out and squandered her family's money. She says she has been a bad mother, etc. I reassure her that there are a million worse things she could be doing, give her a hug, and we part ways. I wait for her to leave and head back up the interstate to the game - it was only 1130, and that game was good. **** the rake, part of the deal was that I sit in and play to keep the game going, so I might as well log in some hours.

I roll up to German's house and when I get out, I can hear yelling inside. I open the door, and Tim is screaming at the top of his lungs for German to give him money. German owed 1500 on the book and had promised to make payments over time. German refused to give him any money from the game, as it was clearly over. **** this, I should have called ahead of time. Chairs were getting kicked, chips flying, I didn't need to be here if the cops got called.

Then I remembered, I hadn't responded to those texts. I had no idea who it was, but they were persistent. They knew I played PLO at HR, and also at a local casino. Who would not just come up to me and talk, I am a very approachable person. So I get to texting this number, and the person says, "I am at HR, come on up, there's 2 tables of 5-5 running.

Oh well, looks like a late night at HR solo. I don't like rolling into the garage at night because HR has been known to have robberies, etc. and I can't carry my gun there. I had about 2700 on me, which was good enough for 2 buyins, and head across the casino to the poker room. I walk down the corridor, ask for 5-5 PLO, and get seated immediately, which is nice on a Saturday night. Seat 4 and 5 are open, and I take seat 4 because its closer to the exit - old habits die hard. It looked like a pretty deep table, the average stack was about 2800. That's the ****ty part about late night PLO that is capped - you can't buy in for stacks, and the stacks are usually 4-5 times the table max. I buy in for 1k, and about 1 orbit later, this hand goes down.

BTN straddles for 10 in seat 1. SB calls, BB calls, I make it 50 in MP with AQ910sshh, it folds around to BTN who makes it 185. I am the only caller. Flop comes KJ7ssh. I check, BTN says "POT". I don't know villain well, but to me a live tell in PLO is that amateur players like to say "pot" a lot. He could be doing this with AA combos, which is more in his range than rundowns like KQJ10. I would think he would want value from a hand like the latter, and I feel he wants a fold from me. I raise all in for about 810, and he sigh calls with 78910hh. He asks to run it twice, which I almost always oblige, and win both runs with a spade on one, and a Q on the second. I flick the dealer 10, which is a HUGE tip in this game, and get up for a cigarette.

As I get up and turn, I see an olive skinned girl peering over the glass that blocks the high limit areas. She seemed to be a little disturbed by my sudden staring at her and turns around. Is this who has been texting me? I don't want to start questioning random people and acting crazy. I walk to the front of the room where the smoking area is, and go out and light up. I had that glowing feeling of winning a good sized pot, the feel of dragging in the black and green chips - PLO is a psychological rollercoaster. As I am halfway done, this girl comes through the double doors and walks towards me. I usually have a smile on my face, and am pretty good at awkward situations.

"Liam?" She asks?
"Yes?"
"I am Jenny, we talked here before about poker." I am just learning and you said you would help me?"

To be continued....

I swear I actually look forward to posts from op everyday. A combination of having nothing to do and this being one of the most entertaining stories I've ever read. Some questions op not sure if I missed it somewhere describe yourself a little.

I don't think I really touched much on who I was. I was born in NYC, raised in Virginia, then NY again, out east on Long Island. I went to college and my junior year, I left to pursue a career in Florida that was highly specialized, but I had the motivation. I lived in Miami for a while, but my family is near Fort Myers, so I am on the west coast of FL. I started playing limit when I was a waiter in NY, then switched to NL/PLO in 2005, right after I moved to FL. I have only worked for someone else for 6 months of my whole adult life, I can't stand having a boss, hence poker was a great way to make money. I did poker full time from 2012-2015, and was never a recreational player. I still play about 20 hours a week, give or take depending on how busy work is. Part of my decision to not pursue poker full time before was due to the swings attached to PLO. I only play cash, and will play a tournament once in a blue moon. I finally finished up school down here to make parents happy in 2014, and have a degree in international relations. I hope to post some pictures of some of this action if I can find it on my hard drive. I also never swap/sell action except for my dad, who is a stat professor now and hatches out these optimal investment strategies. I just go along with it as he helped finance my business in the beginning. I have also worked at a pawn/gun shop on and off for 6 years, so I have a background in that area as well, hence the initial security job. I guess I did have a boss then, but it was a friend and didn't feel like a subordinate position.

Can you divulge anything about your business?

I work in the exotic plant industry - high end stuff, collector plants. I do business worldwide, but also in Florida to botanical gardens, other people who want cool plants no one else has. It's kind of like selling artwork - people will buy something because it is a status symbol, or may be the only one in the country.

Well written stories. Keep it up OP!

I like the fact that Nazi John cooperates with the Jew

I actually never thought of that, but I would joke about how certain dinners weren't kosher, and I wouldn't eat them, as well as celebrate Passover and Yom Kippur. I grew up in the NYC area, so I had a lot of Jewish friends and was very familiar with Jewish culture. People who didn't know would always ask, "Are you really Jewish, Liam?" They just passed by the fact that I had blond hair, blue eyes, fair skinned, and had a very Scandanavian last name.

Jenny, Etc.

I had suddenly realized that I had spent hours playing with Jenny at another local casino - she played some of the $50 daily tournaments that I would jump in to mess around. As I said, I am not a tournament player, but when I play, it is about as recreational as it gets for me and poker. Something about me loves sitting down at the table with the weekend warriors who just got off work to try and win the $1000 up top, to watch them play high variance donkey poker - I wanted to be that donkey.

Jenny had been playing these I assume because it was cheaper to play than say, a 1/2 cash game where your money can go faster. She was in her late 20s, I remember her telling me she was Colombian (from Bogota), and she was a cosmetologist. She was also absolutely beautiful. She had a perfect body and a smile, she barely looked 18. I was never one to chase Hispanic women, but I would make an exception here.

"I am over at table 31, at the 2/5," she said in her Colombian accent.

"Okay, I will come over after a few orbits here, I just doubled up, I don't want to leave too fast."

I was surprised she was playing 2/5 because she didn't seem like the type to put 500 on the table. I walked back to table 39, and sit down and see some new faces to my left. One was John Racener....****. I came here to outplay the business guys who loved to get it in light, not try and outplay a seasoned pro out of position. I nitted it up for 2 orbits and really wasn't interested in the game anymore, so I racked up and went over to the podium to get a 2/5 seat.

"Can I get on table 31?"

"Yes sir, its open, go on over"

I walk over with black and green chips to the table, figuring I would have to pocket about 1k. I come to the table and see 1 and 2 dollar chips. This was a 2/4 limit table. Well, to my luck, there is no table max at the limit games, so I just sat down with like 500 in red and cashed out the others. She was right next to me, so I figured this was a good time to talk some more to her. I was opening every pot she folded, and would try and cap every pot I could. "Don't play like this, this is how you lose money," I told her. She seemed like she knew what she was doing, but she was missing value. Hell, everyone was missing value at the 2/4 game. I won a hundred dollar pot with A4 suited and even said I was going to do a magic trick right before I hit the 3rd 4 on the turn. She thought this was skill, and I had to tell her not to waste her money playing this way. I ended up giving all of that money from the A4 hand back, and during one of the hands, she ran her fingers through my hair saying, "I can give you a nice haircut if you want". I usually buzz my head, so anything different was welcomed. Her running her hands through my hair and her perfume make me want to get out of there. I was up 2k tonight and it was only 1am. I said to her, "I can't teach you poker like this, it has to be somewhere where we can play with a deck of cards."

"Let's go then, I'm only 20 minutes away. I will tell my friend that I am leaving."

So I guess I was giving her a ride home, and I didn't even know where she lived. She followed me closely through the casino, I lit up a cigarette and thought what the chances were that she was actually a robber in sheep's clothing, and became a little paranoid, but I had an idea. As we got in the car, she became obsessed with the bluetooth function and was playing around with listening to Pandora on the ride home. She put on a 90s hip-hop station, and I was thinking at least she had good taste in music. I started to ask her where she was from, where she lived, and how she got here. Apparently her family had some money in Bogota, and decided to get her here through a work program that her family set up. She had moved to Texas about 6 years ago and got her cosmetology license, and had recently broken up with her boyfriend there, so she decided to move near her aunt. I got on the interstate, headed south, and asked her which exit to get off.

"Don't worry about that, I'll let you know when the exit comes up," she said, making me slightly excited and a little nervous at the same time. I was nervous that I was going to get jumped with my guard down, while at the same time glad I didn't have to count down numbers because I-75 is such a boring drive. She had asked how I did, and I said that I won a big pot, and proceeded to explain a little Omaha strategy. She wasn't understanding much at all, and said, "But on the board you had no matching cards!" You bet $2000 with no matching cards?"

"Well, its not that simple, it was a big draw out of position."
"Okay then, you teach me Omaha?"
"Let us start with Holdem first."

She was wearing some kind of expensive designer jeans, and this button up turtleneck thing. She was in excellent shape and had this smile that was very addicting.

After about 40 miles we cross a bridge, and she said halfway through the bridge, "Next exit right here!" I get off and test out the cornering on the new car to try and see if I can scare here a bit. My mom used to own a car enthusiast magazine in New York, and I was given the opportunity to get nice racing lessons from the best in the business. This town was known for its police presence, and where we were at the moment wasn't the best neighborhood. I take the turn at 60 and she isn't even holding on to anything. She seems very fearless. I ask her a little more about what her family did in Colombia, and forgot what her answers were as I was preoccupied with thinking of a plan when we got there - am I just being paranoid? This would be an odd way to jump someone, she could have invited other people at that table home. Why would she wait for me? I took a Xanax and decided to just relax.

As we were closing in on the place, we had pulled into a mobile home/RV neighborhood. Since I have lived in Florida, I have only been in one of these places, and honestly, this place seemed pretty nice. You could tell it was a family/seasonal RV place, with a few grounded houses that made it feel more homely. After what seemed like a mile of driving, we pull up to a big camper that looked like an old school Airstream. I pull alongside her Honda Civic and see her bumper is missing. "I can fix that for you, you know." She just smiled and walked to the front door. Sometimes I can really say some goofy ****....

We get in, and it is sort of like a 3 room trailer, with a bathroom in the middle of two sliders. It is very cozy, and she has it set up so it is a perfect little single person apartment. She puts on the TV and it is on Telemundo, so of course I have no idea what they are saying. She goes over to the bathroom area and says she'll be back in a second. I clear a bunch of clanking of metal, rustling of plastic, and after about a minute, she emerges with a folding chair, a professional trimming setup, and looks ready to go to town. I sit down for my free haircut and as we talk for the first time without any ambient noise, I can tell her English is broken, but she is trying hard. I've always wanted to learn Spanish anyway.....

She spends about 30 minutes trimming, fading, cutting away at my hair, and her running hands through my hair is keeping me wide awake. To be honest, I didn't need a haircut, but I will take a free haircut from a beautiful girl. She stops and then says, okay, I need you to take off your shirt to get your neck and back. No problem! I had the odd but fuzzy feeling I was being seduced through a haircut. I'm not a particularly hairy person, but Florida is warm and I dont need the insulation.

As she is finally done, I put my shirt back on and realize that all those clippings are in my shirt, itching the **** out of me. I felt like Tyrone Biggums itching my neck and moving around scratching my body. She notices the obvious and says, "would you like to take a shower?" The shower was not very private, but my only option was that or hang out with my shirt off. I opt for the shower, mind you with 2k hidden in my car and the keys are in my shorts. I am in there, listening for any movement outside. How gullible could I be? I am a sitting duck with my money. I quickly rinse off, open the door and put my boxers on. She opens the sliding door and is just standing there in a pink see through bra and underwear. I don't usually get nervous around women, but my heart was racing because I wasn't sure what to expect. She takes my hand and half throws me on the bed. She was about 5'1, 100 pounds, but she was strong for her size.

After about 10-15 minutes of making out and getting undressed, she took control and we did the deed. Thank god she liked being on top, I was too tired for anything else at that point. She rolled over and cuddled with me with a big grin on her face, and I was shaking, not sure if I was out of shape or again just really tired. I looked at my phone - 4:30 am. How did all of this happen in just 4 hours? I don't normally do this, so I was a little bit concerned. I got dressed, ran out to my car and checked my hiding spot. Sure enough, it was there. I came back in, and she made me some sort of snack with apples and mangoes, and I scarfed it down with water. I told her that I had to go and get some sleep and help my mom with something tomorrow. She said she would be free tomorrow night, and that sounded good to me. I think a lot of my pent up anger, frustration, etc. was due to lack of a woman in my life. She seemed very interested, and I wanted to see where this went. After hanging out the next day, I told her to come to the Thursday game to watch. I had taught her a few things about aggression, position, raise sizes, etc. She didn't play in the game, but she enjoyed watching. We had another problem that night, however.

This **** is great. I have one Q: I guess I'm a bit of a liferoll nit, so the idea of giving credit to a bunch of degens is so eye-popping to me. Is it simply a part of customer service for running a show like this, or did the people running the games make huge mistakes in this regard?

As you can tell from my story, I can be a bit of a nit as well with my own liferoll. It was eye opening to me at first to see people who had no money getting lent thousands. The math behind it is if you can keep a game running for longer than that money cost you, its worthwhile. For example, if you know someone was 100% going to blow a 200 buyin in an hour, but would keep the game running for that extra hour, then it is worth it if your rake is @200 an hour. You made the extra 200 in rake that offsets your 200 loss, but you also get tips, so you are actually making money off the "real" money on the table. Obviously when half the table is borrowing, it becomes way more risky, and you can take a significant loss. As a general rule of thumb, the more people borrowed, the higher the rake was.

Derek once pulled me aside and asked me to hold onto 1000 for him, because he knew he would blow it betting sports. "You just don't have that degen gene in you, I don't know how you do it." That was what kept be alive during this game - knowing what risks were worth taking, and which ones were not profitable. It's the same sort of risk analysis you will see pro pokers made, just in a different scenario.

Hope that makes some sense.

subscribed please give us more!

I keep having deja vu when reading your story... have you told it online before?

Vito's True Self

So next Thursday rolled along, and like every other Thursday, I did the routine. I was finally up for good around 430pm, as I was playing late night with Sally and we were at the local casino until it closed. She had turned on this aggression factor that I thought I had taught her months ago, but it just showed up this particular night. I raised UTG to 15 (which was a big raise at the casino, but was laughable at the home game). It folded around to her, and she 3-bets to 45. Normally I would fold against her, but I'm not going to let her just run me over, we're going to the streets on this one. Flop is 1093, perfect. She leads for 55, and I raise all in for 225 more. She snaps me off for less with....KQ. Turn 5, river 10, gg. I gave her this look like WTF are you doing? We don't battle like this! It wasn't the money, it was her going for broke which concerned me. What made me even more irritated was she lost all my monies to a bad player at the table an hour later. She had the degen gene in her. I know that when she lived in Michigan, she would go to Motor City and play slots whenever she was free. She never mentioned it to me, but I am pretty sure she went to GA at some point.

I go outside to smoke a cigarette and see my roommate/landlord on the patio....with my gun in her hand. What the **** is going on with women? Am I going to get shot?

"You left this outside." She said, "I've never held a real gun before, is this real? It looks like a toy."

She was pointing the barrel towards me looking at it with the magazine dropped, and I grabbed it from her.

"You never point a gun at something you aren't willing to shoot."

"But there were no bullets in there, I figured out how to get them out!"

"What about the one in the chamber?" I rack the slide and a 5.7mm round goes flying in the air, which I catch Denzel style like Man on Fire. It's honestly not hard as long as the slide and feed ramp are working well.

"Oops!" She exclaims! "Will you take me shooting sometime?"

"Sure, but not today, I have to work."

"But, its Thanksgiving."

What? It's Thanksgiving? This is how my life was, I didn't even realize it was a huge national holiday. I called my family, they were out eating dinner already. I called Mike, they had a special game planned for tonight. Well that's good, something can go right today. I get ready and ride over to the game with the usual case of Coors Light, which the Swede drank half of, and the car dealer drank the other half every Thursday. I show up at the game and Derek is already there with a beer in his hand. He comes up to me,

"We need to find out the truth on Vito. I need to know if he's a cop. I'm not getting busted on Thanksgiving."

"Okay, we'll ask him when he shows up."

I tell Mike that I will deal for the first few hours until Vito shows up. He usually came around 9 and stayed until midnight. What surprised me was how fast and early the game started. When you get a group of mostly degen gamblers together, Thanksgiving is a lonely time for most of them. This was the biggest thing most of them had done for Thanksgiving in years. The tipping was great, the food was great, and around 9, Vito strolls in. I hated dealing to Vito because he was a lousy tipper, lied that he had seen burn cards and make me flip them up, causing them to be exposed. He always had those snide alpha male comments that were never funny, but he would always laugh at. I go outside with Derek to his car, and we open his trunk. In the trunk was a cardboard box full of guns.

"Check this out, I bought this off another dealer at the casino for $100. I think its a .357."

I pick it up, and its a Smith and Wesson revolver with the hammer shaved off. Somewhat of a safety issue, and possibly illegal, but whatever, it wasn't my gun. We walk back inside and Vito taps me on the shoulder and asks me to get him a SmartWater. I'm not a ****ing waiter, I tell him we have to talk outside. He gets up and we go on the patio. Derek and I are flanking him and Derek poses the question about being a cop. Vito gives him this "are you serious" look and says hell no, that he hates cops.

"Well you act like a cop, you are new to this area and these games. Not a lot of people just walk in the casino and start playing 5/10 around here." I say. "We're here to have fun, don't be a prick to other players or the dealers. I'm not your waiter, we get you that Smart Water specifically for you. This is a help yourself establishment."

"It's Thanksgiving man, calm down. I'm sorry about the water."

"I don't want to be an ******* about this, but a lot of players felt the cop vibe coming from you, maybe you need to just relax a little more when you come here."

This conversation clearly made him uncomfortable, he got up and left after a half hour, down about 100. The game went on the whole night, people were all wasted on whiskey, beer, other shots, you name it. I made a killing that night. Jenny had showed up around 11pm to say hi, and spent a few hours talking and hanging out. I wanted her to stay, but she had to work the next day, some special going on at the hair place for Black Friday. I walked out of there with $1100, and I has hoping that Vito wasn't going to come back to the game. Well, he made sure he wasn't.

On the following Sunday afternoon, I got a call from Josh.

"Dude I made $1000 last night dealing, you wouldn't believe what happened."

I have never told this story before online. I don't think I have even told it in person to anyone in this much depth.

Sure does. Tx again for all this, it's great. Molly's game seems so lame in comparison.

The Saturday Game

I was somewhat stunned when I heard Josh say he made 1000 bucks dealing. He told me the whole story - Josh was only 20 and it was a lot of money to him. Vito decided to call up some of our players, some of his NA friends, some dealers, and got a game going that apparently played like a 5/10. He told me that Mike cashed out a 3000 dollar winner. I can say to this day that is the first time I have ever seen or heard Mike cash out a winner in a cash game. Everyone was drunk, having a great time, and it ran all night. What the **** was Mike doing there - did he forget we have a game here with those people, that this was our competition? I swear to god that he has no business sense about him. The thing is, I am thinking about this from a business perspective - they are thinking about it from a get rich quick view. Vito probably saw that these guys just wanted a place to play. They didn't want authority, they wanted unchecked pleasure and an adrenaline rush. It was not about being rational.

Jenny had Monday off, so I went to her place and I brought a deck of cards. I showed her how to play position, how to raise percentages of the pot, and how to value bet and bluff. She knew hand ranges and draw percentages - she just needed to bet accordingly. "You have KQ suited in the small blind, everyone has limped 2, what do you do?"

"Raise the pot."

"How much is pot here?"

"17"

"That's correct!"

She was becoming my new little 1/2 prodigy. I was taking her to Hard Rock, and playing 1/1 with her. 1/1 might be the worst game that ever was invented for live poker. No one folds, there is no way to raise and isolate, and everyone smells like BO or terrible perfume. I had to give her a taste of live no limit, and these were the lowest stakes. She won $60 by the end of the night and was elated. After dragging her away from the slots, we headed home like our first night. I stopped to get some gas and decided to take 301 home the rest of the way, I like country roads much more than the interstate anyway. We were at a stop sign in the middle of nowhere and I cut in to go back to the interstate when she told me to pull over, which I did. I thought she wasn't feeling well, but it wasn't exactly that. She jumps on me, and wrestles my hands against the headrest, and suddenly they are tied up? How the **** did she do that? Must be a Colombian thing. She had her way with me for about 45 minutes before finally feeling satisfied, and we drove on our way back to her place.

I woke up alone at 11am, and she was at work. Oh well, time to raid the fridge. After eating, I headed home to sleep a little more. I woke up again around 5pm to a missed call from Vito. I was curious what he wanted, and called him back. Answering immediately, he stated that he wanted someone he could trust in the box with Josh, that there were no hard feelings from the other night, and he wanted to make this another night for poker. It was not a gig every week, I would switch off with Derek. I said sure and I would come by early on Saturday. I guess he appreciated me being upfront and a dick, as long as he could trust me with money. I figured this could only be a positive thing for me, and I knew he had a nice house, so it could only build up from here.

To be continued...

Please tell me you continued to bang the hot Columbian girl.

There is definitely a possibility of that.

Can anyone link me to Molly's game? I have never seen that thread before.

I don't recall much of the details coming out on 2+2, but here is a daily uk article... and, apparently, there is a movie due next year?

http://www.dailymail.co.uk/femail/ar...-princess.html

Ah, I have read that - for some reason I thought it was a thread on here. Let me see if I can bang out another good read before sleep.

Oh, I think there was a thread. Search for spiderman in the title iirc.

Vito's House.

Vito was a businessman, so when he invited me to his house at 5pm before the game Saturday, I got there at 445. It was a 5 acre mansion in a nice area of town with a pond, pool, 6 bedrooms, and a BMW, Porsche, Mercedes, and his 370Z. We were both from Long Island, and we talked about back home for a bit. He told me the story about how he fell into the world of being a crackhead, and how he got out. It was probably the best rehab story I have ever heard. I rarely get humble when it comes to business, but I honestly apologized for the aggressive tactics I used to get a straight answer out of him. He was puffing his cigar poolside and said it was good that I was thorough. I replied by stating I just didn't trust a lot of guys from around here, that too many people get away with running up debts.

"Do you want to go for a ride in the car?"

"Sure," I replied, not really caring which one, as they were all nice. We go to the 4 car garage and there sits his baby - a 2015 370Z, twin turbo, too many extras to list. I get in and belt up, and we fly down the driveway at 40 mph and onto the road. He hands me a sheet of the specs of the car. 898hp to the rear wheels, aftermarket downpipes, injectors, blow off valves, cats, intake manifold, you name it. It ran a 9.82 quarter mile last month. It was probably the fastest street legal 370 on the west coast of Florida. I was loving every minute of it, it handled like a dream.

"How much do you know about PLO?" He asked.

"I've been a student of the game since I was in college."

"Would you rather deal or play PLO?"

"I'd much rather deal NL, and play PLO."

PLO is a nightmare to deal. It's not just calculating pot, or dealing 4 cards, it is the players that play. They like to make their own rules, intentionally misread hands, and try to run the games themselves. They are usually terrible tippers too. My main reason besides the money for getting into Vito's game was that I was starting to lose trust in Mike. He was letting the book get too high in the game, and was owing too much to Bookie. I really couldn't handle Bookie and his demeanor at the table. If he had Mike by the balls, Mike might try to muscle me out of the game. I told Vito I could bring him players, and he agreed to let me deal with Josh. Where Vito saw me as a peer business-wise, he saw Josh as his prodigy. Josh started to act and talk like him as weeks went by, not necessarily a bad thing. We went inside and he had a whole wing of the house devoted to gaming. The poker room was the size of a 3 car garage, and the poker table was 100% custom. I felt like this was a big move up in the gaming world.

I tried to get as many people in the game that night that I could, even calling friends from over an hour away to come and play, offering to pay for gas. Vito offered me all my tips and 10% of the rake in return for players and loyalty to his game. I was still going to run the Thursday night game. I met Vito's wife, her name was Jenna, and she was tall, skinny, and obvious boob job. She was extremely nice, and not in a fake way either. I did my own research on Vito and Jenna, and they had been in rehab together. The house was previously owned by a pro hockey player, and was gifted to the couple by her father at their wedding. I was a little suspicious as to how much of this was real, and how much was bull****. Vito said to me "this is a hustle just like any other job, we offer a service, and we extract the maximum." By maximum, he meant rake.

Bookie, Nazi, Swede, and the NA crew came to the game, and the first thing I noticed was there was a lot of credit being spread around. These NA guys weren't exactly high rollers, but Vito wanted the game to run well. Bookie was throwing money around like crazy, and it was the oil that fueled the game. He would buy in for 100 at a time and just put it in the middle. I saw him run 100 up to 2000 and then back to 500. The craziest part of that night was when everyone cashed out, and they decided to do PLO flips. This was all cash, unraked gambling at its purest. Swede and Bookie started at 100 each, then 200, and Swede was up 1000, running pretty well. Bookie says, "you want to go home broke tonight?" to which Swede thought for a second and said, "sure, its only money". Swede won that flip and Bookie tried to take it out on me. Swede threw me a 100 for the end of the night - 800 bucks wasn't bad for the new gig, plus another 175 in rake.

As soon as I put everything away there, I hopped in the car and headed over to Jenny's place. It was only 1230, plenty of time to hang out. I just walked in, hopped in her shower to wash the poker off me, and jumped right onto the futon. I liked to tease her for a bit, said I was too tired, but she would have none of that. By 200 I was out cold, but did a little sleep and creep a few times throughout the night. I don't know where I got all this energy, I guess it had just been too long. Her accent was so addicting I couldn't help myself. I wasn't sure if it was just the feeling you get when you first meet someone, or if this was meant to last.

To be continued....

The Big Game and Big John

A few days later, I was helping my sister move into her new house. She had just bought it in late November, and she was extremely excited. She was 5 years younger than me, and had been working hard in the pharmaceutical industry since 2007. This was the culmination of her efforts, graduating from a nice college, and working on her MBA from University of Florida at the time. She needed a few thousand more to show the bank she had proof of funds, and I had lent it to her. It is funny how many times in my life family and friends had criticized the fact that I did not have a regular 9-5, that I didn't have a "real" job. I hated the idea of a real job - not because of responsibility, because I had plenty of that, but I felt that the power that be wanted everyone to have a job that they were proficient in, but not an expert in so that they could never topple the hurdle into the management or world of ownership. I know that sounds somewhat Marxist, but I truly hated big business, advertisements, all the bull**** you see on TV. I felt bad for people that needed to get certain things to feel like they fit into society. I made an agreement with my sister to use that loaned money to pay for me to live there for several months, I could finally get out of the crappy town I was living in.

The morning I was moving out, I woke up and went outside on the patio for a cigarette. I usually go shirtless just as I wake up, and I brought my gun out to check if a new magazine fit into it - it was a 30 round aftermarket mag, and I had gotten it from the pawn shop. The gun I usually carried when I could was a FN Herstal Five-Seven, which was basically a rifle round put into a pistol. It looked like a toy, but was a high end Belgian-made gun that was beautifully made. It was light, powerful, and extremely accurate. It is hard to find all 3 in the same gun. I take the mag out, rack the chambered round out and right into my eye. The bullets came more to a point so the pointy part jabbed me right in the eyeball. Stupid mistake, at least it wasn't a lethal mistake. As I go inside to check my eye, I realize the door locked behind me. ****!!!! I had no keys on me, no wallet, no phone, just a pack of cigarettes, and I was wearing a pair of Puma athletic shorts. Not even shoes. My roommate was working all day in another town and not a chance she could get back here anytime soon. I knew nobody in this town. Wait, I did know someone - Sally lived only 3 blocks away! At least I could go there and wait in the AC, because even though it was November, it was getting into the low to mid 80s and I didn't have much shade to work with. I had to leave my gun, because there was nowhere to put it, and Florida has no open carry. I had to leave the $1200 gun on the table and hope no one stole it, but I took out all the rounds and hid them in a corner so a random group of kids couldn't hurt themselves if they broke in.

I pick up my stuff and start walking. This town was more of a huge suburb in the south part of the county, and 3 blocks here was more like 20 blocks in a major city. People don't walk to get places in Florida - everyone has a car, or a bike if they are a drunk or just poor. I had nothing, just barefoot and shirtless walking on the pavement. I looked like I was half pedo/half methhead. I had to walk for almost a mile down a main road in the town, and it was very embarrassing. I clearly wasn't out to get exercise the way I was dressed, I was half expecting to have a cop pull over and question me, and I had no ID. I knew Sally would drop off her granddaughter at preschool and run errands, but I wasn't sure how long. The worst part about all of this was they had 8 security cameras around the house that recorded to a DVR. After 45 minutes of awkward walking on pebble-infused pavement, my pale body made it to her house. I rang the doorbell to no avail. I went in the back and managed to get the lanai open to the pool area, and they had a couch on the patio. Nice, I could just lay there and sleep a little more.

"WHAT THE ****!!" I heard screaming from inside the house. I woke up with my hands up not sure what was going on. Sally had come home and saw a body on the couch and freaked out. Thankfully, she didn't know where her husband kept his guns, or at least the combo to the lock. After a few seconds, she realized it was me, and gave me a look like, "can you explain what is going on?" I told her and she started laughing. I heard a door open and her granddaughter came running up to me and jumped in my arms.

"Liam!!! I didn't have school today, now I can go swimming and have ice cream. Where are your clothes? Did you lose your car?" 4 year olds can be hilarious sometimes.

I made a few phone calls, and thankfully her friend who was at home had a spare key to the house. I got back in the house, gathered my stuff, loaded up, and moved into my sister's place. It was newly renovated, but small for a 3 bedroom house. I had just gotten into the shower, hooked up the cable, and was going to catch up on a few shows. I got a phone call from Big John.

"Are you interested in playing in a game tonight?" He said?

"What kind of game?"

"Well these guys like to play Omaha and some other games, I'm not completely sure. Can you come over at 5?

"Sure"

Big John had been a friend of mine for a decade, which is a long time in Florida years. Most friends had either moved away, gone into hiding with family, or had gotten into some form of opiates. John's grandfather had a 12% share of AllTel when he died, and left most of it to him. He was from Ohio, and from what I know grew up relatively poor. With this money he bought a house for his mom and dad, plus another 7 or 8, he basically owned the whole block where he lived. He worked as a bartender at the local yacht club, and we had grown apart the past few years. He wanted to be a yacht club groupie, and I had moved away from the preppie, entitled scene years ago. We used to have great parties at his house and invite all the waitresses from around town to come hang out - it was the best place to meet girls back in the day. He talked me into donating a $5000 plant to his house in return for a few favors, and it was a point of contention. I felt like I got the **** end of the stick there, and was still owed money. Maybe this favor was how I was going to get it back.

To be continued....