The Legend of Carson City Slick

“Raise, twenty-five hundred,” she casually stated, with no discernible inflection in her voice. Tension grew as she pushed a corresponding stack of chips toward the center of the felt.

“Call,” the biped fired back, matching the aforementioned wager.

The game was Texas Hold’em and the table currently showed three cards, face up: the nine of clubs, the queen of spades and the ace of diamonds. The locale was a tiny, smoke-filled poker room in Kansas City. The players were all notorious card sharks — Leia and her current adversary, Big Russ, included.

Leia made no movement, save for the accordion-style shuffling of her chips. It was her turn to bet, but she was in no rush to toss out a number.

“I check,” she stated flatly, deferring the first rite of betting to her opponent. Russ pondered, briefly, before checking as well. The pot, though heavy, failed to grow this round.

“I wonder,” Leia queried to the group as she looked up from her hand. “Y’all ever hear the tale of the cat who got Carson City Slick to lay down a kings-over-queens full house?”

The table erupted in stifled laughter, the loudest chortle coming from Big Russ.

“Lemme guess,” he retorted, “you’re gonna tell us you’re that cat.”

Leia returned the chuckle.

“No, can’t say that I am. But I was at the table that night. And I witnessed a masterclass in psychological card play.”

“You see,” Leia continued telling her story as she diverted attention from the board. “Ol’ Slick was nobody’s fool, having grown up in card rooms west of the Rockies. A pro’s pro if there ever was one. But that cat, on that particular night, he got into Slick’s head.

“Slick held pocket kings and the board showed king-queen-queen. I can’t recall the other two cards — it doesn’t really matter. Slick felt good, but the betting was such that his feline counterpart could’ve held just about anything. That cat had been mixing up his wagers all night.

“So, the cat looked right at Slick and said, ‘You seem like a good egg, Lemme tell ya what I’ll do. Pick a card, your choice, left or right, and I’ll flip it up. You can see one of my cards.’”

Leia scanned the table as she continued her eye-witness account. She had truly commanded everyone’s attention.

“Now ol’ Slick just smiled, having seen no shortage of hot shot table talkers, most of whom could never back up their smack. But this cat had piqued Slick’s interest, so Slick obliged, asking to see the left card. And that cat did as he said he would, flipping over the card under his left paw. And sure as I’m sittin’ here, it was another queen.

“That cat had Slick right where he wanted, so he went all in, shoving his humongous stack of chips right to the edge of the pot. By now, you could imagine, ol’ Slick was thinkin’ his opponent might indeed have four of a kind. I mean, why offer a choice if both cards aren’t queens? Am I right? So Slick puzzled and pondered, trying desperately to figure out every conceivable angle. And that cat’s face gave nothing away. Slick had kings over queens. A full house. You don’t just lay down that hand… do ya?

“But Slick did!  Folded right away, tossin’ the cards face up into the muck, showin’ the losing hand for everyone to see.  But you know what? That cat would NOT return the favor. He tossed his cards face down as he raked in his chips. The winning hand, forever a mystery.”

With the story concluded, Leia turned her attention back to the game at hand. It was now time to make her move.

“I think you’re holding a full house as well,” she surmised as she stared ice cold daggers at Big Russ. “Aces over nines, I’d say.”

She studied her opponent intensely, looking for a specific tell. The human’s right eye twitched, ever so slightly. It was a small spasm, to be sure, but it just may have confirmed what she had suspected.

“There’s only one question you need to ask yourself,” she proffered stylishly, as if she were a Bond villain. “Am I holding the other two nines?”

That was indeed what Russ was mulling over, but Leia awarded him no extra time to consider it further.

“I’m gonna go all in,” she stated coolly, looking deeply into her opponent’s pupils. “But before you say anything, I’ll offer you the same deal ol’ Slick got. Left or right. Your call. I’ll flip up whichever one you choose.”

Leia pushed her chips across the felt as she awaited an answer, but the human wasted no time entertaining the offer. He wasn’t one to overthink the moment.

“Show me the right,” he said, nodding in Leia’s general direction. True to her word, she flipped over the card resting under her right paw.

The nine of diamonds.

Big Russ studied his opponent intensely, attempting to crack her competitive puzzle. Was the story she told simply an elaborate form of subterfuge? Did she want him to stay in the hand? Did she want him to fold? Like it or not, she had gotten into his head. But he’d played this game long enough and he was certainly smart enough to know when to stop chasing sunken costs.

“I fold,” he mumbled, dropping his gaze as he helplessly tossed his cards face up into the muck, revealing his losing hand. He did indeed have a full house. Aces over nines, as predicted.

And like the poker protagonist from her earlier tale, Leia also chose not to show her remaining card.

“Of course I’m gonna play pocket nines,” she shared, a sentiment which may or may not have been the continuation of a bluff. “I’m a cat, after all. Nine is kinda my lucky number.”

The human wasn’t mad. He wasn’t even disappointed, really — at least not how you’d think. This wasn’t the first time he’d lost a big hand and it wouldn’t be the last. That’s just the nature of this particular beast. What bugged him was his choice. As he thought more about it, that decision may have been made for him. You see, when he said “right,” he assumed Leia would turn up the card under her right paw — which she did. But what if he would’ve said “left?” Would she have revealed the card under her left paw, or would she still have shown the card under her right one which, from his perspective, would’ve been on the left? A simple form of magician’s misdirection which usually proves effective.

Leia racked her chips as she stood up from the table. It’s been said that most gamblers know how much they’re willing to lose, but few ask themselves how much they’re willing to win. Not Leia though. She met her goal and it was time to leave. She said her goodbyes, tossed out a few pleasantries and a tip to the dealer, then headed toward the cage to cash out her winnings. She paused only when her newfound rival called out to her.

“Say,” Big Russ interjected, the crackle in his voice revealing profound respect. “I didn’t catch your name.”

“Well,” she replied, turning and stopping dead in her tracks. “My Christian name is Leia, but I go by lotsa handles. In Boston I’m known as the Fenway Feline, in St. Paul I’m Riverboat Annie. In Charlotte, the Cheshire Kid.