Mercifully, when Lucas bought back into the tournament he was technically entering as a new player, which meant that he got his table assignment changed and went to go wreak havoc somewhere else to another group of hapless people. With that particular rogue element gone, play slowed down to the meandering crawl that the event organizers had probably intended when they set the blinds so low. There were no more all ins or bust outs at our table for the rest of the day. As the day went on, however, my chips were dwindling further and further. I won the occasional hand here and there, but never for much value. The blinds were slowly rising, I was easily spooked into folding hands I probably should have continued to play, and as the day went on I was slowly bleeding out.

Nikita was the polar opposite. The man was like a black hole who drew chips unrelentingly towards himself. He was deciding to play a lot more often now, and when he decided to play he generally won, most often by getting his opponents to fold. The scary thing about Nikita’s game was that he could be chummy with you one minute, and an emotionless poker-playing machine the next. His ability to switch between these personas at will made him unpredictable and terrifying. During the fight against Lucas he had seemed to view me as some kind of ally, or at least a useful pawn in his game. When next we played a hand, however, his cold stare was back. It was as impossible to think clearly while under that stare as it would be while standing naked in an arctic wind. Then, a few hands later, he’d be back to trying to make convivial conversation with me about my mystery crush or life in America versus Russia or some such topic. I wasn’t the only person he did this to either. He appeared to be friendly with everybody but friends with nobody, teetering on the knife’s edge between being a person worth trusting or being someone you thought might stab you in the back. Which was the real Nikita Zakharov? It was impossible to say.

By the time the last hand of the day had finally been played, I was decidedly a short stack. Even though I managed to survive until day two, I had less than a third of the chips I had started out with. Well, what was I really expecting? I thought to myself as I slid my remaining chips into a plastic bag and signed my name on them for the staff to hold on to until tomorrow, It’s not as though I ever had any clue what I was doing.

Once the chips were taken care of, I looked around the room for Alva, but she had already left. I was beginning to get very frustrated with constantly just barely missing her. The whole reason I had set foot on this boat in the first place was because I wanted to talk to her again. Occasionally seeing her from a distance wasn’t nearly enough. I walked out of the large ballroom and out into the light of the slowly sinking sun. I resolved that I would explore the ship for a while, and maybe I’d manage to bump into Alva. Before I could set out to begin my search, however, I heard a familiar voice with a Spanish accent call out to me.

“Bryson! Good to see you’ve survived the day!” Vincente Alcon strode up to me, his white teeth shining behind the carefully sculpted five o’clock shadow on his face.

“Just barely,” I said, managing to muster only a very weak smile in return, “I’m a short stack right now. Nikita just about cleaned me out.”

“Nikita, huh? Unfortunate that you had to deal with him on your first day. I respect the man’s strength as a player, though I can’t say I’m fond of him.”

“I’m not sure what to think of him myself,” I admitted, “I’d probably have an easier time liking him if he hadn’t collected most of my chips.”

“I don’t blame you,” the Spaniard said, “but don’t get too down. As long as you have chips left there is still reason to hope!”

“I guess that’s true,” I agreed, “I’m not out until I’m out, right?”

“Precisely!” Vincente said, “There are still cards yet to be played. One never knows what tomorrow may bring!”

I was pretty sure I knew what tomorrow would bring based on my performance today, but I didn’t argue with Vincente. Instead, I opted to change the topic. I hadn’t really gotten on this cruise for the purpose of being on a cruise, but I had been looking at the itinerary and I knew that Barcelona was going to be our first stop. I thought that it might be good to get Vincente’s opinion on what might be fun to try in Spain.

“So Vincente, we’re headed towards your neck of the woods tomorrow, right?” I asked, “How well do you know Barcelona?”

“Like the back of my hand!” Vincente laughed. “I grew up about sixty kilometers away in Blanes, so I have spent a lot of time in Barcelona. What would you like to know about? La Sagrada Familia Basilica? The gothic quarter? Anything you want to know I can tell you.”

“I just kind of wanted to know what you’d be up to while you’re there,” I said, “I’m not really a touristy sort of guy. I prefer to find out what the locals like to do.”

“I’m afraid what I’m doing tomorrow would bore you, friend.” Vincente told me, “I’m going to be heading back to Blanes to visit the old homeplace. I may visit El Jardín Botánico Marimurtra, but that’s about the most exciting thing I would be doing.”

“What’s that?” I asked.

“It’s a beautiful botanical garden overlooking the sea,” he informed me. “I used to go there whenever I was in the mood to walk and reflect. It’s probably a good bit out of your way for when we stop in Barcelona, but if you ever find yourself in Blanes I would highly recommend it.”

“Thanks, I’ll keep it in mind,” I promised.

“Vincente! There ye’are, I need a moment to talk to yeh!” A voice cut through the air, speaking with a pronounced Scottish brogue.

Vincente and I turned to see Ewan Cunningham, the world’s second highest earning player, waving the Spaniard over.

“Ah, my apologies Bryson but I must cut this conversation short. I hope your luck turns for the better!” Vincente excused himself and walked over towards the Scotsman. They walked away, discussing something I couldn’t hear.

I returned to my plan of walking around the ship and looking for Alva, but had no luck. The evening was quickly approaching, and the ship was heading towards the Strait of Gibraltar, the entry point of the Mediterranean Sea. Giving up my search, I decided instead to make my way towards a commotion that reached my ears from the top deck where a pool and bars and hot tub were located. From the scattered sounds of chattering voices, I thought they must be having some kind of party up there. I ascended the stairs to the deck and found a lively group of people, mostly players in the tournament, having drinks and lounging in the hot tub and conversing about fantastic hands or regretted misplays. I thought I might have a drink myself and walked over to the bar for a cocktail. When I arrived, I bumped into Shirley Fey, the Virginia girl who had been the first one busted out of the tournament. She smiled at me, remembering my face from before.

“How are you holding up?” I asked her.

“I can’t say I’m happy,” she told me, “but I wasn’t a favorite to cash anyway, and at least this way I get to enjoy the rest of my cruise without having to think about cards the whole time.”

“You’re not going to buy back in?”

“Not worth it. This hurt my bank account badly enough as is.”

“You should have seen the way Nikita went after that Lucas character after you left,” I said, “He wouldn’t say it outright, but I think he was pretty ticked off over the way that guy treated you.”

“Is that so?” Shirley asked, “Did he bust him?”

“In spectacular fashion,” I confirmed, “We’re talking tournament highlight reel stuff. By the time Nikita was done with him I thought Lucas was going to blow a gasket!”

“I wish I could say I wasn’t pleased to hear that, but I’d be lying,” she admitted.

“No reason to be ashamed of wishing misfortune on that little…” I stopped, looking past Shirley to where something else had grabbed my attention.

Alva Lorensen herself had just walked onto the deck, along with Vincente and Ewan. I was so happy to see her I could hardly contain myself. After all this time and all this heartache, I finally had an opportunity to talk to her again and this time there would be no giant Russians to get in the way. She was dressed in a stunning black one piece bathing suit that fell low on her generously endowed chest, straddling the line expertly between modesty and suggestiveness. She floated more so than walked in the direction of the large hot tub, her two white feet hardly seeming to touch the deck below her. I excused myself from my conversation with Shirley, and began to make my way towards her, feeling like I was lost in a trance, hypnotized by her beauty. At that moment there was nothing in all the world except for me and her.

When she had reached about the halfway point of her walk to the hot tub and was positioned roughly in the center of the crowd, Vincente, who was walking next to her, put a hand on her shoulder to stop her in her tracks. She looked over at him, surprised. He cleared his throat, and with a powerful voice that boomed over the chatter of the crowd he proclaimed “Everyone! If I may have your attention please! I have something important I would like to say!”

Silence fell over the deck. Everyone stopped what they were doing and turned to look at Vincente. I too stopped, wondering what was going on. Vincente gestured a hand towards the bow of the ship which was pointed through the Strait of Gibraltar.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Vincente began, “This evening all of us on this ship will sail through the Strait of Gibraltar into the great Mediterranean Sea! And I think that it is only appropriate that I too should take this opportunity to voyage forward into a joyous new chapter of my life!”

I had a very bad feeling about where this was going.

“As many of you know I have had the great fortune to be in a relationship with Alva Lorensen for many months now, and in all the thousands upon thousands of hands of poker that I have played, I have never once felt so lucky as I do about that fact.”

Alva was dating Vincente? My heart fell to the bottom of the sea below me. How could I have been so stupid? Of course a girl like her would be spoken for by a man like him. He was rich, tall, handsome, accomplished, suave, gregarious, and now that he was in a swimsuit I could even see that he was perfectly toned. He was everything that Alva deserved. He was everything that I could never be. I watched in horror, helpless to stop what I knew was happening before me.

“Every married man claims that his wife is the most beautiful on earth. Every married man claims that his wife makes him the happiest man alive. Today, I would like to become the only man in the world who can say both of those things truthfully.”

Vincente removed a small black box from his pocket, and dropped to one knee in front of Alva, whose normally fair white face was flushed bright red with excitement. I wanted to scream, but I wasn’t even able to breathe.

“Alva Lorensen, many have claimed that I am the luckiest man alive, and this evening I wish to put that claim to the test. Will you do me the honor of marrying me?”

“Yes!” Alva breathed, seemingly so happy she could hardly form words, “Absolutely, yes! I will marry you!”

The two kissed each other to the sound of cheers and wild applause. To me it all sounded like it was a hundred miles away. I felt like I was trapped in a nightmare, unable to wake up. In a daze, viewing her as though through a tunnel to a different world, I saw her finish her kiss. Then, in slow motion, she turned to look at the crowd and finally, for the first time since she had walked out of the pub on that fateful day, she spotted me. I watched as her face ran through expressions of recognition, surprise, confusion, and then an unmistakable scowl of displeasure. Of all the days in her life when that perpetual smile of hers should have been most radiant, I had been the man to make her frown. It was the only thing that could possibly have made this situation any worse. Finally forcing my body to respond to my thoughts I ran, ran from the deck, ran from my sorrow, ran not caring how it looked to anyone else. It was a wonder I didn’t run off the side of the ship and into the sea.