Who Wrote The Gambler Novels & Stories

“An idiot with a problem. If he doesn’t pay today, then he’s a dead idiot and won’t be my problem anymore.” Jerry Harrison is everything wrong with the world—drugs (not purchased by us, because he wouldn’t be able to afford a fraction of them), booze, and a good dose of gambling. Last night, he decided my casino was the place to test his luck and my patience and not the first time either apparently. Ran up a tab he couldn’t pay. Thought he could walk out of here smiling. CCTV never lies, and my patience disagrees. Smug bastard right now—but not for long. Definitely not for long.

The once idle man suddenly turned over a new leaf, finding a stable job and taking care of his wife and child. Those who knew Larry couldn't help but sigh, "A prodigal son who returns is worth more than gold." Larry not only quit gambling, but also stopped drinking, and took care of his deaf son and often-ill wife without complaint. But Keegan didn't believe a gambler could truly change. Like his uncle, Blake Crosby, who would kneel and swear off gambling every time he lost, only to relapse when tempted. If someone could quit gambling, they wouldn't have fallen so deep in the first place. Keegan believed people could improve, but he did not believe that gamblers could reform. He had long wan

“I expected them to call us, you know. Share the fun or even bring me in but they did the job alone and just ran off with the gain. I thought I had friends, man. Pissed.” He seemed like a good candidate. Naive, stupid and was willing to do anything just to get some wards of cash, legal or illegal but just like he couldn’t figure out the fact that four addicted gamblers didn’t come over to the casino to boast and try to double their earnings hasn’t shown up wasn’t a bad sign, he was never going to do the job right. Aside from his rambling mouth that has spilled secrets I was never ready to hear while he was drunk, he was good for nothing else but semi company. “You wouldn’t do me like that, w

Still, in order to test his opponent, Michael threw a pack of playing cards in front of Javier so that he could open up the seal to check for anything suspicious with the cards. Javier did as he was expected to, which was exactly what Michael wanted…to see Javier’s hands. In order to know whether a man was good at gambling or not, the first thing to see was their hands. Gamblers or tricksters were in the same line of profession as thieves, relying on their hands to earn a living. As such, their fingers needed to be slender and long. To them, a man born with slender and long fingers was said to have been blessed by God with extraordinary talents.

After listening to Linda’s explanation, Charlie nodded slightly before he asked, “So, how many people have you harmed and cheated using this method?” Linda hurriedly replied, “Not many, not many…I don’t usually do such a thing.” Charlie frowned before he asked, “So, how many gamblers did you help the casino to cheat when you were working as a croupier in Macau? Among these gamblers you’ve cheated, how many of them have gone bankrupt and sold their own sons or daughters, or even taken their own lives because of you?”

It was a nightmare anyway he thought about it. I didn't even want to imagine if it was me who died. Impossible. If he had come this far, he could continue to survive. Surely G wouldn't even show up, Hunter even less so. Plus it could always alert them in some way. He wasn't going to let anyone get killed. I would have to be more cunning than usual and try to make the lies come out more natural. Now what? I sighed and covered my face with a pillow. These things shouldn't happen to a writer. If he ever left this life once and for all, he would publish a book: How to Survive the Mafia.

“I was ranked #60. My mafia name is Gambler. Anything imbued with my luck becomes a weapon. I use mostly coins and playing cards.” The Gambler was a very sick looking teen who looked like he sold his soul instead of his luck for power. He would be clumsier than usual on some days, and Zen knew the reason behind it now. Yesterday, Zen caught him loitering outside the kitchen. The Gambler left eventually without saying anything, but his actions were highly suspicious. Yet, who would have anticipated their meeting in such an alliance?

Don't fantasize about making money in crooked ways. "You gambled, didn't you?" He said righteously, "I am an old man. So what if I lose? I've got a few pieces of land at home, and I can feed myself till the day I die. But you're different. Once you are addicted to gambling, you are doomed. Gamblers barely win. Do you think you can earn money from casinos easily?" Chelsea was at a loss for words. Although what he said made a lot of sense, she kept having the feeling that he was playing double standards here.