A Gambling Man Novels & Stories

"Play a few more rounds with me?" The man shook his head resignedly and leaned closer to the manager. "I know you won't let me just take this money. How about I leave it here, and you let me take someone with me?" "Who?" The man pointed to the badly beaten figure in the corner. "I want to take him." "Fine. He's off the hook this time." The manager waved, and his men immediately dispersed. The suited man helped the battered gambler out of the den. The latter was so swollen and bruised he could barely open his eyes.

I demanded, my voice hoarse from fear and anger. "Ah, feisty, aren't you?" The man smirked, taking another puff of his cigar. "You cost me a lot of money, sweetheart. And you're going to pay for that." “I didn’t cost you anything. I don’t even know who you are,” I shot back. “But you did, sweetheart. Your little stunt to seek justice caused a lot of influential people trouble and I am here to make sure you understand your place in the world,” the man responded. My eyes widened in horror as I realized who we must be dealing with – someone involved in the illegal gambling.

the man in the black shirt grinned, revealing nicotine-stained, yellow teeth. Janus read the words on the paper and his chest suddenly felt tight. "This... How can it be so much?" Janus muttered, troubled. "What did she do with this much money?" "Oh, you'd never believe that an old woman is addicted to playing with young men and gambling. A few wins made her lose herself, and for two weeks she didn't even move from the same chair at our club," said the man in the blue shirt. "But, I have to admit, even though she's old, she has great stamina and is still quite toned."

Altair went somewhere where there were a lot of people gathering to see something. The sun had started to greet the morning a middle-aged man sitting with people who were doing street gambling surrounded by people who were watching their games. "Guess what," said the man who looked like a gambling owner. "This time if you win I will definitely double your bet," he said again while biting a toothpick. The man in front of him looked like a fairly rich person then he took out some gold coins in his pocket placing the coins on top of the card he chose nervously.

the man said and then returned his attention back to the television screen. Belinda followed his gaze and felt her face almost freeze up. Adrea Galanis was on TV. She was talking excitedly about the win she’d had that night and there was a big smile on her face and her eyes were bright with joy and something else. ‘Maybe the high of gambling,’ Belinda thought with a tinge of distaste. “She is as good as the last time I played her,” the old man on the bed said and Belinda’s head turned so that she was looking at him.

“Sir, please… Give me one month to pay!” The man’s voice cracked as he knelt before Alejandro, pleading. Around them, Alejandro’s men only shook their heads. They had seen the man before—this was the same gambler who had been begging for extensions for months, piling up debt at Alejandro’s casino. Now he had reached the limit. Payment was due, and Alejandro would not let him slip away. Alejandro stood still, drawing slowly on his cigarette, cold eyes drilling into the man’s soul.

he said to the burly man covered in tattoos, standing by the curtain, reciting a string of codes. Once he finished, we were ushered in, and I quickly realized that the part of the clubhouse we had just left was nothing compared to the chaos of the gambling den behind the curtain. The noise was overwhelming—shouts of triumph mingled with cries of despair, creating a raucous symphony that made my stomach turn. How could gambling bring them so much joy? “Lana, let’s go. Manager Sam is probably waiting for us,” Bernardo said reluctantly, his gaze fixed on the chaotic scene of men throwing dice.

At this moment, a plump middle-aged man was sent to be the banker. “This is one of my Eight Great Gamblers, a usually unbeatable man when it comes to gambling… “But tonight’s going to be different. Harvey quietly waited without saying a word. On the screen, the dealer started dealing the cards. Both sides were calmly looking at their hands without saying a word. The only peculiar thing was that Mateo would snap his fingers every time he revealed his hand to show his excitement. The people from the casino palace said this was a common habit here for many people.

Men were chattering in a dark room with only flickers of colorful lights, ladies stood behind each opponent, encouraging them with a gentle massage on the shoulder as they concentrated on the cards, gambling. “You shouldn’t have risked your pounds for this,” one of the opponents stated. He had a stick of marijuana in his mouth. “You shouldn’t look down on your opponent, that might be your end,” the other man said, shuffling his cards. “Whoa! Who else is watching?!” he exclaimed as he flung the cards on the table. He just won.

“My name is Camile. And know that I’ve got pepper spray and a pocketknife in my bag!” I crush her fingers in panic. Now this man is going to shoot us in the face. But, surprisingly, he lets out an ironic chuckle. “And who will the madams be betting on today?” Who? So there are people? They bet on people? I have no idea what this little shit is talking about, but I can’t act dumb. Bets. That’s what goes on here. A casino maybe. Illegal gambling? Fuck. This place must be full of criminals. That’s it. I doubt he asks this kind of cocky question to regulars who frequent this place.