Deleted Scenes: Ace in the Hole

 (This scene was written by SinfonianLegend.)

Pre-Reaping

-Owen O'Connor, District 5-


“And here’s your card, sir, the ace of spades!  Where everything starts,” With a flourish, I slipped the card out from my client’s waistband of their pants, making sure to brush the line where boxers meet skin, and showed the face of it.  He blushed, but his body language didn’t suggest he disliked it.  “And everything ends.”  He adjusted his jacket and buried his hands back into his pockets.


“That’s pretty impressive, you know,” he said, turning his eyes up to mine over his tinted lenses, “but I wonder how you fare at escape tricks?” I lounged back into my seat, mulling a game plan over.


I couldn’t hide the smile that crept onto my face.  I do love a challenge.  “Darling, you can bind me up as tight as you’d like and I’d still be able to get free to do whatever I please,” I purred.  It was true, and the devices wedged in my back pockets of my jeans were mostly the reason. That way the clientele could even bring their own rope or handcuffs and I could still wow them.  This wasn’t a magic themed strip club for nothing.


“Oh really?” asked my client softly.  He took off his glasses and fished around in his jacket pockets.  “Then you wouldn’t mind me cuffing you?”  He produced a pair of cuffs and dangled them out for me to see. 


I presented him my non-dominant hand, my right.  “It would be my pleasure, of course.”  he slid the lock around my wrist and instead of attaching the other to my other hand, the chairs or poles around here, or anything in the room, I found what I was attached to was moving and suddenly very, very close.



“I would very much like if I could take you somewhere,” his voice a whisper louder than the club’s music.  “Somewhere private.”  His non-cuffed hand wandered down my side.  A cold chill ran down my spine and I searched the room for someone, anyone to notice in case things were about to turn for the worse.


I leaned down to his ear to make certain I would be heard. “That’s fine, but no funny business, alright?  You know the rules...and I’m personally not available for certain...services.”  I was able to hide behind the law of not being 18, but it was a blessing.  I wasn’t ready to be a full-blown prostitute mentally, and physically I hadn’t been trained yet.  I knew those lessons were coming though.  And when they did, I wouldn’t be able to hide behind smoke and mirrors like I could now.


He straightened suddenly.  “Oh don’t worry, there’ll be nothing more than a few questions.”  Huh?  The strange feeling that I had been hoodwinked was starting to dawn on me.  “Mr. O’Connor.”


I froze.  How did he know my name?  Was I in some kind of trouble?  I hadn’t done anything aside from my job and take care of mom.  The worst thing I’m doing is underage sex work and the government had overlooked far worse than that.  I had to break the rising anxiety before it overtook me.


I took a deep breath.  If I had nothing to hide I had nothing to fear.  But the nightly news talking about murdered sex workers in back alleys every other week worried away at the safety that notion brought.  “Relax, Mr. O’Connor.  We’re just going to take a little drive while I ask some questions.  Your boss is already aware.  And you’ve already consented to coming with me, no?” What a low move. 


“...That I did,” I conceded.  The easier I made it for him, the easier it would be for me.  I followed my client away from the noise and intoxicating atmosphere of an Ace in the Hole.  It wasn’t often I got to leave through the front door, when I thought about it.  Sure enough, a black vehicle was waiting for us. 


After you, Mr. O’Connor.”  He held the door open for me to the back seat.  I slid to the opposite side seat and my client took the other, as we were still handcuffed together.   The driver took off.

“Do you know who your father is, Mr. O’Connor?” My client--the government agent?--I didn’t know what he was, he hadn’t even told me a name--asked. 

“No, I’ve never met him,” I replied quietly.  “Why?”  He said nothing, taking a long moment to look out the window and think behind those tinted shades. 

“Tell me, what made you get that tattoo you have?” he said casually.  Or at least, it would be casual if that tattoo was fully visible to most people. 


I bit back my reflexive response.  That was exactly what this man was looking for.  “...How do you know what that tattoo is in the first place?  You shouldn’t be able to see more than the spade.”

“We checked the records of the tattoo artist you got it from,” he answered.  At least he was as honest with me as I was being with him.  I couldn’t detect any attempt to deceive me. 

“I’ve been doing magic since I was small,” I said after a short pause.  “I know almost as many card tricks as there are cards in a standard deck.  I’ve learned as much trivia I could think of, and this strip club indirectly inspired my interest in magic when I was small, since my mom worked here and she wouldn’t tell me what she did except for magic.  So when the boss suggested a tattoo to make my body more...interesting to look at,” I explained, “I went with each suite lined in a clover pattern.”


“I’m guessing the clover means something to you then,” he smiled.  It felt like he knew everything about me, which just unnerved me even more.  How?  I hadn’t written any of this stuff down, much less that.  “Well then.  One last question.”  He pulled a picture out of a person’s face I swear I had seen before.  Broad facial features, overgrown, dark hair, unruly facial hair coming in, not quite anything but fuzz...and bright blue eyes, just like mine.  The man couldn’t have been more than 25 when the picture was taken.  And even then it was difficult to peg how old he was looking at him.  “Do you know this man?”


I squinted.  “He looks familiar, but I don’t know anything about him.  I’ve never met him, just...that face looks really familiar.”  The man abruptly folded up the picture into his coat and snorted. 


“I believe that’s all I need to know. When we pull back around Mr. O’Connor, you’re free to go back inside,”  he said without looking at me. 

“Am...I in trouble?” I probed hesitantly. 


“No,” he laughed.  “You’ve got nothing to worry about, Mr.  O’Connor.  Ah, that reminds me.”  he fished around in a different coat pocket and produced a fat envelope.  “This is for you.”  I took it and peered inside and almost choked.  It was a lot more money than I made in a night.  It was more than I made in two weeks.  “For your silence on the matter and pleasant cooperation. And also, for having to trick you earlier.  I’m really quite sorry,” he said apologetically, just soft enough for the driver not to hear.  “I did enjoy the show you were putting on for me.  I wish the circumstances could have been a bit different.”


“Well,” I struggled to get anything else.  It was so hard to talk all of a sudden, I was choked up. More than I make in two weeks.  I mentally smacked myself.  I could be emotional later. “I’ll be waiting for you at an Ace in the Hole if you ever decide to come back.”

He folded his shades up and clipped them to his shirt, fixing me with a warm smile.  “I’ll certainly keep it in mind, Mr. O’Connor.  I haven’t even seen you on a pole yet, after all.  Ms. Joker was raving about your, ah, flexibility to me,” he chuckled.  I suppose it was good to know she thought that was one of my strong suits.

The neon sign’s fluorescent pink light came into view.  “May I have a name to know you by, sir?”


He thought for a moment and then fixed me with a sly smile.  “To you, I am Agent 8.”  The car came to a stop.  Agent 8 slipped out the car and opened the door for me on the other side.  I braced myself on the car door and stood. 

“Well, Agent 8,” I leaned in just a bit too close.  “I bid you adieu.” And I spun and slipped towards the door.  Knowing that he would notice the handcuffs on the carseat, fix me with one last look, and chuckle before getting back in the car. 

I may not have had him hook, line, and sinker, but he was certainly hooked. 

I don’t know why he was asking me questions, why he paid me off to keep the whole thing quiet when I barely speak to anyone, or why my tattoo or biological father would be of any interest.  But I could wonder about that when I didn’t have a job to do.


“Nines, honey, you’re on in 10 with Queen, get a snack and get ready,” Joker called from the office on my way in. 

But...there was really no reason to look a gift horse in the mouth.