Aces and Knaves

did."
    My adrenaline was flowing. "I'm ready to try it," I said.
    "What's the penalty for losing?" Arrow repeated.
    Why was she worried about losing when we were going to win?
    "Ah, yes," Stan said, sipping his drink. "Sometimes we offer live entertainment here. You'll notice that the floor at the other end of the room is raised and can be used as a stage. We have spotlights and everything," he said, pointing to the ceiling.
    "Sorry, I can't sing like Joe Williams," I said.
    "No need. You both have gorgeous bodies and we have a sophisticated audience that would love to see you both in—and out of your clothes. We can provide the mood music of your choice."
    "You want us to strip!" Arrow exclaimed.
    "That's a vulgar way of saying it, don't you think? I prefer to call it an artistic exhibition." He leered at Arrow. "But we will find out what you have on under that dress."
    "Not much," she said, shortly.
    I could confirm that.
    "It will be educational. We'll learn the difference between panties and pants. Unless, of course, you aren't wearing panties," he said to Arrow. And to me, "Is it briefs or boxers with you?" Then feigning sadness, "Whichever it is, I'm afraid they'll have to go."
    I swear Stan smacked his lips. "Leave us for a minute," I said, harshly.
    He bowed and left the table, taking his drink with him. I turned to Arrow. She was actually smiling. Then I noticed that in the last few minutes she had finished all three of the drinks in front of her.
    "Of course we're not going to do it," I said.
    "Of course not. But the look on your face is so funny."
    "Funny! That coc...." I caught myself.
    "I don't think we're in Palos Verdes anymore, Karl. Of course we're not going to do it. But..."
    "Arrow! Don't even think about it. What if my father found out?"
    "I know. But I'd like to get my hands on that information so badly I can taste it. You're a good blackjack player, aren't you?"
    "Yes." I had to admit it since I felt as if I was under oath. "But there's still a chance I might lose."
    "But if you won it would be so great."
    It would be. My father would have to admit that I was good for something, for once in his life—and mine. The information would be invaluable to him for planning his defense; even if he ended up selling to James he would be able to get top dollar.
    I was a good blackjack player. If I played carefully I could do it. It might take me a while to triple my money, but....
    Stan came back to the table and sat down. He looked from one of us to the other. He said, "I sense some indecision, but you're definitely leaning toward action."
    He was enjoying this, immensely. I wanted to bust him in the nose. I also wanted to get the better of him and James. I looked at Arrow. She had a gleam in her eye that said, "Go for it." How much of that gleam was from booze? Don't think too much. I said, "We'll do it."
    Stan's smile was a mile wide.
    I needed to collect my wits. "I get a table to myself. Dealer uses one deck. Betting limit is what I have on the table. Minimum is a dollar."
    "Done." Stan smacked our table with the palm of his hand, bouncing the glasses into the air.
    He hadn't even gone running to James before he answered, as I had expected. Now he walked over to one of the blackjack tables and talked to the players there. From their glances at Arrow and their smiles and ready acquiescence to giving up their places I gathered that he had told them about the bet.
    Things were moving too fast. By the time Arrow and I got to the table there were a dozen of the beautiful people clustered around it, waiting. Waiting for us to lose. I sat down on one of the stools in front of the table; Arrow sat beside me, holding another drink. The dealer produced a number of chips, with values ranging from one to one hundred dollars. As I placed them in piles in front of me he shuffled a single deck and presented it for me to cut.
    "Wait a minute," I said. I wasn't ready. I looked around at the wolves surrounding us, waiting for the kill. I conjured up a picture of my father after he found out I had gambled again and lost. Lost my dignity and that of his executive assistant. Made him a laughingstock for James. Probably lost Dionysus to him.
    "We're not going to do it," I said, standing up. I took hold of Arrow's arm to pull her away from the table. She resisted.
    Stan said in my ear, "You're not going to welsh on our bet, are you?"
    "I'm not welshing," I said. "We haven't started yet."
    "Do you know what happens to