If there was one thing that watching Lucas the day before had taught me, it was that playing with reckless abandon could occasionally win you a few key hands. If there was a second thing watching Lucas had taught me, however, it was that the returns from that strategy diminished quickly, and so I would need to come up with a more reliable line of play if I wanted a chance to stay in this tournament. I tried to think of what I could do, but nothing came to mind. Meanwhile I was dealt my next hand, and I took a look at what two cards I would be working with this time around. A nine of spades and a trey of hearts. Looked like I’d be sitting this one out anyway.

Next to me, Alva looked at her hand. I could tell that it was a pretty good hand from the momentary widening of her eyes, tipping me off that she was pleasantly surprised by what she was seeing. I also was able to glean another very important piece of information from this facial tic of hers, which was that without the unchanging smile that she usually wore Alva was an open book. If I could read her this easily it would be child’s play for one of the more experienced players to do so. Alva didn’t have a poker face, she had a smile, and now that she wasn’t smiling she might as well have been just as much an amateur as I was. I felt a horrible pang of guilt upon realizing this. To Alva, happiness was more than just a state of mind. It was an essential aspect to her poker game and therefore her livelihood. If she was going to have any chance of doing well in this tournament she would need to cheer back up. I hoped at the very least that she was aware of this shortcoming. If she wasn’t she’d be in some serious trouble.

By this point Alva was the big blind, so she would be the last player to get the opportunity to make a decision. I was left to sweat it out, hoping that she would have the good sense to fold a few hands, at least until she managed to figure out some way of overcoming her current handicap. Play wound its way around, with a couple players folding. Then it was Danni Romano’s turn. The Brazilian woman went into the tank for a moment, scrutinizing Alva. As the highest earning female player in the world, I knew that Danni had something of an unspoken rivalry with Alva, the fastest-rising female player in the world. It might very well have grown into a spoken rivalry if not for the fact that Danni didn’t know a word of English. Even though the two women were unable to converse with each other, however, it was clear that they were a closely matched pair, not only in terms of poker but also, incredibly, in terms of appearance.

Danni was an undeniably stunning woman in her own right, and just like Alva she looked as though she would have been right at home on the cover of a magazine. While Alva could have been a Cosmopolitan model, however, Danni looked more like she belonged on the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Edition. Danni’s physique could best be described in two words: BOOM, POW. She had the body that all the women with expensive implants were trying to emulate, but Danni hadn’t needed a cent to obtain it herself. She was simply the undisputed jackpot winner of the genetic lottery. Dressed as she was now in a thin black dress that hugged her curves and barely extended to her thighs it was clear that she knew just how good she looked, and indeed that was an essential aspect to her game. The very sight of her was enough to distract men and tilt women. She didn’t rely entirely on her looks, however. She had the art of reading body language down to a science. Most of the top players were able to speak English, which was a massive advantage in that English, as the most widely spoken language in the world, was a valuable tool for gleaning key bits of information from opponents through conversation. Danni, not having access to this tool, had instead learned to read tells so minute that even most other seasoned pros weren’t sure what she was seeing.

I wondered if Danni had seen Alva’s reaction to her hand and would opt to fold as a result, but instead Danni decided to reach for her chips. Had she missed it? Was her own hand good enough that she wanted to bet anyway? It was hard to say. Lucas seemed to have picked up on it, however, and folded rather than going through his usual routine of betting big and betting fast. The Frenchman shoved his pitiful pile of chips all in, which was required for him to even call. We had been nearly even in terms of chip count when I beat him, and so he had almost nothing left now. I folded, and looked to Alva, hoping that she would do the same. No such luck. Alva called bringing us to the flop.

The seven of hearts, the deuce of diamonds, and the seven of clubs came down. I looked around the table at the three players that were still in the game. What were the odds that any of them had a seven to make three of a kind? It seemed unlikely but possible. Danni checked. The Frenchman couldn’t do anything without any chips left, and so Alva was up next. Alva didn’t have a seven. I knew this just by looking at her, and if I knew it Danni knew it for sure. In fact, Alva appeared to be very hesitant about this hand. If I had to hazard a guess, I would imagine that she was aware that her face was betraying her, but she also felt like her hand was good enough that she didn’t have an excuse to fold. Alva checked behind, going into the turn without betting. The card for the turn was the ten of diamonds, and seeing the anxiety that was plastered all over Alva’s face Danni decided to make a move. She slid a sizeable pile of chips into the middle, and watched to see what Alva would do. Alva went into the tank of about thirty seconds, then folded.

With that, the only players left were Danni and the player who was all in, and so it was time for the hands to go face up. The Frenchman’s king and nine were currently losing to Danni’s ace and five. The sour look on Alva’s face was all I needed to tell me that whatever she had in the pocket would have beaten Danni’s hand. She had been bluffed into folding. The jack of clubs on the river changed nothing, and Danni took the pot with an ace high. The Frenchman was out. He stood up from his chair, waving at all of us and being a professional about the whole thing. Then he gathered his things and took his leave. He handled his loss very well. If anything, Alva was worse off. Her every thought was etched on her face and she knew it. It must have been horrible for her knowing that the lynchpin of her game had been removed and now she was hardly any more dangerous than an amateur with a decent understanding of how to play but nothing to give her an edge. Alva had never had to fake an expression before. Her smile never gave anything away because she was always genuinely happy, even when she was anxious. The simple fact of me sitting next to her was tilting her more effectively than Nikita could ever have even dreamed of. I knew I had to do something to make this right, but what?

I was on the button for the next hand, and I found myself looking at the queen of hearts and the jack of spades. Quite a solid hand. Robert Terrence, who was now working his way through bloody mary number two, was under the gun. In poker terms, the player “under the gun” is the person to the left of the big blind. Because the big blind is required to place a bet, the player under the gun is therefore the first player that has any actual decision to make in the hand. Since they must act before getting to see what any other players are doing, this is considered the most disadvantageous seat at the table, hence the term “under the gun”. Robert decided to get in on the hand, and pushed some chips into the center. To my dismay, Lucas raised. It seemed that the Belgian was back to his old nonsense. Still, I knew that letting Lucas run amok was a disaster waiting to happen, so I went ahead and called anyway. Robert also called, and into the flop we went.

The trey of diamonds, king of hearts, and four of clubs hit the board, and I wasn’t feeling fantastic about how I was positioned. Still, I felt obligated to call the predictable big bet from Lucas. Robert likewise decided to call, and the turn revealed the eight of diamonds. I knew that if Lucas kept betting like this my pile was going to become dangerously small, and all the progress I had made today would be completely erased. I needed to come up with something and I needed to come up with it now. Folding now would be a huge blow to my chip count, but relying on the river to save me with a jack or a queen didn’t seem like a good idea either. I had to convince both of my opponents to fold, it was the only way I could see to come out on top, but how could I possibly do it?

Sell it to them. The little voice in my head piped up.

I wasn’t quite sure what that meant.

It means sell it to them. You’re a salesman aren’t you? Sell it to them like you would sell a mattress.