Rick's Lucky Day

If it weren't for bad luck ...

 

     Rick Coolidge sat rigidly on his stool in abject horror, staring at the two cards lying on the bright green, felt-covered blackjack table in front of him. Six hours ago, he’d sat down at the $25 minimun bet table with his life savings. When he lost that, all he’d have would be his plane ticket home and his room for his last night in Las Vegas. But something wasn't quite right. As his dark brown eyes squinted against the cigarette smoke that danced up from his fellow gambler's ashtray, Rick ran his hand through his black hair in uneasy contemplation of what was happening to him.

 

     “Sir?” The dealer interrupted Rick’s trance of disbelief.

 

     “Oh … Sorry.” Rick said, snapping out of his haze long enough to turn over the two cards that he’d already stolen a peek at.

 

     “Another Blackjack!” The dealer loudly announced.

 

     “I’ve never seen anyone this hot before!” Said the statuesque redhead with dark brown eyes as she leaned into him. She was close enough to press various parts of herself against him in a manner that made the casino seem even hotter than it actually was. Being a rather nebbish fellow of fragile physique, Rick was unaccustomed to such attention.

 

     “It’s got to end soon.” Rick muttered uncomfortably, as he anxiously organized his stacks of $100.00 chips.

 

     Rick’s words echoed the thoughts of the pit boss who stood fifty feet off to the side, quietly watching this once in a lifetime spectacle of good fortune. But no end was in sight. In the next hour, Rick won 15 of the 16 hands that were dealt. He'd sat down with his last $175, and now he had something over $27,000 and he didn’t like it. No sir, he didn’t like it one little bit.

 

     You see, in his 37 years, Rick was never one to attract too much good fortune; as a matter of fact he’d resigned himself long ago that bad luck stalked him like a crocodile slinking up on a sipping gazelle. He saw his run of good fortune not as the long overdue balancing of Lady Luck's books, but as a curse to be fended off. This near pathological fear of good fortune took over when the pit boss invited him to move to a higher limit table.

 

     “Yeah, that’ll be good.” He answered nervously, figuring he’d bet everything that he had except for the $175 he started with. But fate had a different plan. The phenomenal run of luck continued into the night. He made big bets hoping to lose and he won. When he bet small to fend off the winning, he’d lose. By the time fatigue began to set in, Rick had completely lost track of his winnings. His good fortune had drawn a crowd, which only made him more nervous. His hands trembled with each wager. His situation was much less troublesome to the redhead from the previous table; she’d followed him to the high rollers table and saw every spectacular win at close range. As a matter of fact she was fast becoming Rick’s new best friend.

 

     “I guess I should call you Lucky. Well Lucky, my name’s Vanessa and I must be your lucky charm.”

 

     “M-My name is Rick.” He stammered as he raked in yet another pot.

 

     “Where are you from Rick?”

 

     “New York.” He answered as the dealer drew a losing hand.

 

     “Ooh!” She squealed. “You win again Rick.”

 

     “I’d like to cash in now please.” Rick said to the dealer, having given up in his effort to lose a hand. “I go home tomorrow,” He explained to Vanessa. “So I decided to shoot my wad and gamble my $175.00 until I lost. But I didn’t lose, all night I can’t lose and here I am now; cashing in.”

 

     “What's wrong with winning?" She quizzed.

 

     “Nothing ... per se," He explained. "It's just that I am not a lucky man. When good things happen, things that are equally bad come along to even things up. This looks exciting, but something bad is gonna happen!"

 

     “Excuse me sir, I’m sorry to interrupt, but I’ll need some I.D.” The pit boss said.

 

     “How would you like to buy a lonely girl some dinner?” Vanessa offered as Rick handed the pit boss his drivers license.

 

     As onlookers offered back pats and handshakes of congratulations, Vanessa continued to work Rick. But he was finally coming to grips with his good fortune and decided that since this was his lucky night, he’d just accept whatever hospitality this stunning woman had to offer. As Vanessa and Rick discussed where they wanted to dine, the crowd that had formed around Rick slowly began to dissipate. Jack Cameron arrived at the table in time to see the pit boss come back with Rick’s Check.

 

     “There you are Mr. Coolidge, 2.7 million dollars after taxes!”

 

     “Okay you lucky man, lets spend some of that on dinner, and then we’ll go back to your room for some entertainment.” Vanessa said with a stern but playful poke to Rick’s chest.

 

     “I gotta be up by eight though,” He cautioned. “My flight leaves for home at eleven and it goes straight through to New York, I don’t want to have to take the late flight and stop over in Detroit.”

 

     “How ‘bout I just keep you uhmmm … up … all night!”

 

     “I guess I really am, finally lucky.”

 

     Rick had grudgingly begun to let go of his fear of good luck. Finally he accepted that he was not necessarily meant to always lose. His lifetime of bad luck had struck a just balance with this phenomenal run of good fortune. Rick gleefully tucked his check into his wallet and escorted Vanessa out to the waiting limousine.

 

     About that time, Benny Cameron lumbered into the casino and found his brother Jack at one of the low money tables and sat down. Jack handed Benny a drink that he’d ordered along with his own when he arrived.

 

     “How’s it goin’?” Benny asked, as he ran his fingers through the sparse hair that hung over his rather prominent forehead, pushing the hair out of his eyes and back from his receding hairline.

 

     “Not bad, I’m even but some guy just had a run. He couldn’t miss. They say he won over two mill.”

 

     “Damn.” Benny replied in awe. “Why can’t I ever catch a run like that?”

 

     “Stop whinin’ little brother. Did you get everything done at the hangar before you signed out?”

 

     “Yeah, everything is done but the fuel line on that 737.”

 

     “You stupid s**t; that needed to be done tonight.”

 

     “It’s taking a short hop to Reno Jack. They’ll change the line in Reno and it’ll be fine”

 

     “Didn’t you read the memo you schmuck. They changed planes to get more seats. That plane is going nonstop to JFK in New York.”

 

     “It’ll be alright Jack.” Benny said, taking a sip of his drink and tossing $100 onto the table to buy chips as he silently thought to himself. I hope.

Reviews

[Martin Barnier]

Loved the ending- I expected Vanessa to pull a fast one on him and take all his money, but it turned out to be even worse than I thought! I think the only thing that struck me as off is when Rick changes his point of view from 'something bad always happens' to 'looks like i'm finally lucky afterall.' It didn't feel natural after the way his personality was presented in the first part of the story. Perhaps if the moment he changes his mind is given a little more attention? Great story, regardless. I really enjoyed it!

[Pat]

Well done. It makes more sense. I'm still wondering what will happen in part 2 when Rick heads back to New York.

This is an excellent rework. It sets up the characters and circumstances nicely.

[Sean Allen]

Wow Jerry, this guy really is lucky, if Vanessa hadn't have been a redhead, he might not have missed the flight, which he obviously did. I know I would have.

Just a couple of technical spots...
Rick had finally let go of his fear of good luck. Finally he accepted that he was not necessarily meant to always lose. His lifetime of bad luck had finally (Three finally's too close together I think)

...brother, Jack at one of... (no comma here I think)

...stern but payful poke ... (Playful)

I do remember reading this before, and I like your style. This kind of reminds me of the old Twilight Zone black and white TV shows that I used to watch way back when. The only suggestion that I might offer is that the winnings seem a bit to high to believable. 2.7 Million brings to my mind the guy on TV doing the Lottery ads at the top on the building with his mouth hidden by the microphone. If Rick had won $800,000 I would believe the whole story more.
Donn

[Lisa Bruno]

Ok, you seem to want a critique instead of a review, so here goes.
In the third paragraph down, you say that "Rick's words echoed the thoughts of the pit boss..." So I felt like this whole paragraph would be in the pit boss's voice. But then it seems to go back to Rick's thoughts. That my need to be a little bit clearer. Stick to one person's thoughts in the paragraph.
In the 5th paragraph: "Yeah, that'll be good", he answered.......
That happens alot in your dialogue. Use a comma instead of a period, and make it one sentence. Other than those small pesky grammar issues, it's great. I LOVE the ending. I was trying to figure out through the whole story how his luck was going to end, and then you lull us into this false sense of security..and BAM! Great story.

[Cove Mitchell]

Great story! I love the fact that Rick is almost positively doomed because of his attitude. If he just decided to enjoy more time with his new lady friend and take that later flight he would continue that winning streak of his. Too bad for Rick, I'm not sure he'll change his mind about the flight. Hopefully he's too tired to make it! ha-ha

[Kevin Connolly]

This is my kind of story, Jerry. I was wondering why Rick so wanted to lose, but it turns out that he's afraid of the bad luck just around the corner, evening things out. Maybe he'll be lucky this time? He leaves the casino with that thought in his head. His luck has turned at last.
But then Jack's omission shows that - maybe - Rick's premonition will come true.
Great story, Jerry. There are a few occasions where you have no comma at the end of the spoken sentences (or a full-stop, eg �It�ll probably be alright.� Benny said), but that can easily be changed.