Lan, a thirty something year old woman of Vietnamese origin, was sitting at the counter of a hospital in London, the orthopedic section, dawdling on the file of one of the patients. She had started doing these little drawings recently to cheer the stressed and overworked medical consultants up. The sweetness of her cute little drawings tended to do the trick. When the doctors smiled it was because of the drawing rather than the disease on the patient files which people might justifiably think. This became kind of a game they played, with the doctors guessing what Lan would draw next. This time she had drawn Yu-Gi-Oh.
She finished the drawing, placed it on the tray and began to muse on the subject of the file.
'She's been losing weight,' Lan said to Namir, one of her co-receptionists. This reception team was made of three that day.
'Who?' asked Muhammad, the other receptionist.
'I don't think you know her, Mo. You didn't know what she looked like before. I'm talking about Mary, the woman that just signed in. I swear she lost weight.'
'Maybe the doctor told her to lose weight,' Namir said.
'What if he didn't ?'
'What do you mean?'
'What if she just lost weight by herself.'
'You mean if she's sick and losing weight because of illness?'
'No. I mean losing weight for aesthetic reasons, to be…pretty.'
'The lady that just passed by ? Isn't she…eighty?'
'I know right. Maybe she wants to look good.'
'For what?'
'For some new lover. I keep seeing older people talking about how they want lovers at their big ages in newspapers. Maybe this one is trying to make it happen.' Lan sighed. 'Maybe I should go on a diet myself.'
'No. You look great.'
Muhammad's face contorted from furious thought and then blurted out:
'Better than great.'
Lan smiled at one then the other. She was more used to having to fight for simple acknowledgement of her womanhood, but now she had two guys fighting over her, which had never happened before. Lan was frightfully unattractive, crazy ugly, however one wished to call it, hideous like reality. She was one of those unfortunates who accumulate weight in the upper body, none in her chest, with her face being unusually skeletal, her overbite looking cute when she was younger with a fuller face, but not anymore, with her exposed cheekbones. She had extraordinary lips, distinctive in that they were cat-like, with the sides thin, and the middle extremely fleshy, unnaturally so, the upper lip curved in a big arch. It could have been attractive but not with her, coming across cosmetic and made monstrous by surgery. Yet she had reconciled herself with how she looked, taking the world as it would come and now saw that good things happen to all those who wait.
Lan was experiencing the giddy raptures that she never dared to think she would ever experience, given to her by obvious overtures, by more than one guy no less, at the same time, feeling herself now accepted into the guild of romance - finally. She had a vague realisation that these two were only pursuing her as a last throw of the dice, if you will, but nevertheless, she herself now had options.
The two guys weren't exactly ugly but more - dried up. They were perpetual Mauritian students, five masters between them, both in their thirties now, still studying accounting which they both were in danger of never completing; and both were now experiencing the pinch of either arranged marriage or a loveless life, and both of these horrors was spurring them on now as they chased the favours of Lan to avoid crushing failure.
One of the medical consultants, a young blonde man in his late twenties, came up to the counter and hurriedly grabbed a file and noticed what was drawn on the top corner. He smiled.
'What's that - Yu-Gi-Oh? Ha. You bring me back to my childhood. Charming, Lan,' he finished and walked away in a more pleasant humour than before.
'Charming?' thought Lan. 'Yes, dismissiveness is what I'm used to.'
'Have you ever taken art classes before?' asked Muhammad. 'I thought that was really good. More than charming.'
'Oh no, I'm an amateur, even if I've been doing it for a while now. I only draw those to make them hate me less.'
'How can anyone hate you?' asked Namir robotically.
She laughed aloud like when one is startled by the amazing and the unusual, and said to herself, 'I like this…but why is this happening? Why would two dark Mauritians of Indian origin be into me? Maybe it's like when you like…'
'Do you guys like anime?' They both said no.
'No? There are people who like that, and what comes with it is…' she said aloud and then to herself continued: 'So it's not the anime thing where people who like anime are into oriental types…but do they even like me? Ugh. Who cares, really, when it's enough that they do.'
It was a couple minutes to two pm and a sudden rush of people signed in for the two pm appointments.
A middle aged man came in with lower back problems. Lan drew a lightning bolt on his file.
A family came in with a child who had two black eyes and his right arm in a cast. Lan drew a Chinese lantern on his file.
A woman came in with premature arthritis. Lan drew a wine bottle with drops coming out of it on her file.
This went on in the same manner until two o'clock came and went, ceasing the rush. Lan glanced to the side of her computer where a rota was. She saw that the next day would see a different combination with her and a disappointment came over the unusual object of romance. She didn't want it to end.
'Ugh. I have to meet my parents tonight. What are you guys up to later?'
'Nothing.'
'Nothing.'
'Do you have family get-togethers?'
'No. I came here alone to study. My family is back home,' Muhammad said.
'You know me,' Namir added.
'You guys are so lucky. I always have to go to these places which are so boring. And it's not like we're really doing things together. All they want to do is see me and all it really ends up being…hey you guys want to come?'
'To your family gathering?' Muhammad asked, surprised.
'But how can we…' Namir added. 'Is it at your parents house?'
'Oh no,' laughed Lan. 'We never meet up in a house….'
A few hours later all three of them were at the entrance of the Lucky Dip, written in gold and green above the glass doors, a casino in Chinatown.
'Is this a….casino?' Namir asked.
'Yeah,' said Lan. 'We only meet up here.'
'In…a casino?'
'My parents are desperate for me to start playing.'
'Playing? Playing what….casino?'
'Come, let's go inside.'
The three went inside, Muhammad rather apprehensively. The receptionist greeted Lan by first name and let her friends in even if it was members only.
Passing through the glass doors they came to an opening where two entrances to two rooms awaited them. In the one room, straight ahead, was a roulette table visible. From the other one, to their left, they heard Cantonese, some excited, some angry. Lan guided her two friends to the roulette area.
'My family is in the other room, where they play some card game…Baccarat? but there's no bar there, and I want to get a drink. You guys want a drink?'
The main casino floor was a medium sized casino with three roulette tables, a couple blackjacks and a poker game in the one room. There were a number of people on every table.
Lan made a beeline for the bar. Once they got there she ordered a couple shots and a prosecco. The others settled for a coke since they drank no alcohol.
'You guys never been to a casino before?' she asked, noting their looks fixed on the roulette boards that had the numbers previously spun.
'I've been a couple times,' said Muhammad, evasively.
'Me too,' said Namir.
'Have you guys played?'
'What else do you do in a casino?'
'I've been here so many times but I don't think I ever played,' Lan said, downing a Sambucca shot. 'I don't even know how to play.' She downed another shot and grabbed her prosecco. 'Haha. People go to casinos for all kinds of things. Haha! Come and let's go.'
'You come here to socialise?'
'No. I'm not really that friendly.'
'You not friendly? A smile like that, so perfect. God made you to be friendly. How are you not friendly?'
She raised a satisfied eyebrow and a 'hmphf' of approval.
'Are you friendly?'
'With the right people.'
'Me too.'
'Come then, let's be friendly with the family. Let's go and say hi.'
Lan guided them and came across the three card poker table and slowed to watch a lady receive her cards, looking over her shoulder. This was a lady around the age of menopause who had the fresh, bagless eyes of a childless woman and whose lips, freshly livened up with silicone, looked serene when her mouth was closed. The lip fillers were very fresh and one could tell that she tried to move them as little as possible, giving her a serene appearance.
The first card was an ace of diamonds, a sparkling beginning. The menopausal lady seemingly lost the last of the fluids in her finger joints; so tight did her fingers look gripping the condensed cards. She slid open the second card. The three of diamonds. More sparkles, the giddiness nears elation whose completion - the third card… Jack of spades.
'I wonder if that wins anything?' Lan asked, a little facetiously, and saw the lady throw her cards on her casino chips in disgust, while never moving her still lips, leaving her serenity undisturbed.
'You want to play?' Muhammad asked, already getting into his pocket for money.
'I don't know how to play.'
'You can learn.'
'I don't think I can,' she replied with the glass to her lips. 'I'm not sure if I'm made for this…maybe later. Let's see what they're up to.'
The Baccarat lounge was a simple lounge with three Baccarat tables. It was not busy but one could find different types. A beautiful, slim Chinese girl whose white face had a barely present tinge of gravel, like she had a tan perhaps, was listening to her friend, staring intently at her, a shorter woman who may or may not have been from an older generation than her, and it looked like the girl was giving an elder the respect of complete and total attention, returning a serious countenance to the smiling interlocutor. But this was not a woman from an older generation but from her own, as one noticed when one looked closer, so the attention caught the attention. When entering the lounge one would be attracted to this couple first rather than the gambler's screens that had a record of previous hands and trends that helped predict the next one, which, typically, the player would scrutinize first. Such fearlesness and openness in a regard was unusual. Was it the upbringing, or the subject? What could be holding her attention so fastly and what could be the subject so engrossing that could be shared publicly?
'Lan! Come here and tell me what's next. Tell me what's next ?' An older man said, smiling. 'Come sit here and instruct me.'
'Hi dad,' Lan returned, turning away from the two girls.
'Play…'
'But I don't know how to play any of these games, dad,' moaned Lan in mock hopelessness.
'When will you stop saying that nonsense? Are these your friends?' an older woman asked, looking at the boys next to her daughter.
These were her parents. Two short, older Vietnamese people. The man was greying, bespectacled, while the woman had coloured her hair jet-black.
'And she's got a prosecco.'
'Put the drink down, what - come and…play.'
'These are my colleagues; they work with me at the hospital.
'No more bets,' the dealer, a small little japanese girl with a bowl cut, called out. There was a slight nervousness to her voice, a little tremble. Everyone turned towards her and the cards she was about to draw. All the bets were on Player, with a couple bets on Egalité. She drew the first card rather smoothly, a King of Hearts. Likewise the second one, a four of clubs. Then the cards came out more tentatively, her brow started to crease. A queen of clubs. After placing the card on the table, she moved it slightly to straighten it, her trembling hands preventing clean dealing. This also gave her time to count the total of the cards. Then came an ace of hearts.
'Five!' someone shouted.
The dealer stopped, looked over the cards and the value, mentally going over the tableau, the drawing rules, and drew once again. A ten of hearts. A groan went out.
'Six,' someone said, without conviction.
The three of diamonds came out instead. 'Banker wins,' the dealer said timorously, and started collecting the losing bets which was every bet placed. A communal game. If one loses, everyone loses.
Lan's father muttered something indistinguishable while looking severely at his money being taken. Almost instantly he returned to his former good mood.
'See,' Lan's father said, putting his arm around a man next to him, an average man in his twenties who resembled him. The father was in not just a good mood, but an extremely good mood, a father's mood when spending time with his children. 'He doesn't know Lan. He doesn't know!' He kissed his son, looked at the spot where he kissed him, and then turned to Lan. There was some sort of pride in the way he interacted, addressed and spoke of his son, like he was proud of the fact that 'he didn't know.'
'Come here and tell me what to do. We lost! Come and… play.'
'He doesn't know what to do, but he's here all the time. What would I know?'
'Are you on a date?' the brother asked, smirking, speaking in Vietnamese, the first time the language was used.
'Maybe. Maybe not,' replied Lan in Vietnamese too. 'What's it to you?'
'Last bets,' the dealer said.
'Lan?' asked the father almost sternly.
Lan shrugged her shoulders, looked at the screen, had no clue what was going on and said 'the blue one.'
'Ding dong.' The father happily put six hundred on Player.
The dealer drew the cards. A three of hearts. Then the second one. A four of diamonds. A third one. A two of diamonds. A fourth one. Two of spades.
'Monkey!' someone shouted, startling the dealer. The old lady with graying hair was all in the poor girl's face. 'Monkey!' demanded the same person again, a woman who looked like she had been awake for a week, screaming like she was trying to keep herself awake through her insane shouts.
'Picture!'
The dealer drew a three of clubs. Good enough, if you know the rules of the game; if you read the body language of the players. Everyone had relaxed with the result being declared by the drawing rules; but the dealer was confused, startled by the shouting, and drew again - a nine of diamonds.
A shocked silence.
'No more cards,' a player then said, a short guy with rotten teeth; low voice, unmistakable glee.
The dealer realised her error and quickly withdrew the card. It was too late however and the inspector started huffing. Flustered, the red faced dealer had to be prompted by a seething inspector to start paying people, continuing the game.
'What happened? Is it blue?' Lan asked.
'Playing dumb is not cute,' Lan's mother said while staring at the card overdrawn from the shoe. 'In fact, nothing is more irritating.'
Lan smiled slightly.
'You've been around this game since you were three.'
'Mother, you know I like different things.
Besides, I really don't know…'
'What is there to like or dislike about this? And as for knowing, if you don't know what's going to happen next I'm disowning you.'
Lan curved her strange lips, pushing her lower lip forward.
Cards don't get burned in Baccarat and the next card, the nine of diamonds, would be the first card for the player. Knowledge of this, a croupier mistake of this nature, is a gambler's wet dream, as close to a guaranteed win you could find.
Muhammed suddenly reached into his pocket, moved forward, and threw all his money on the table. He said player. Namir also came forward and threw money on the table.
'You guys should bet on different things so one of you has a chance of winning,' said Lan. 'I don't know. It seems sensible to me that one of you should win,' added Lan, rather significantly, while sipping on her champagne.
The men stiffened.
'It's okay,' said Muhammad. 'He agrees with me. Let him agree with me.'
'I don't think I ever said player,' Namir said, rather grandly, with a little twitch of the eyebrow. 'Cash on banker.'
This was the only bet on banker and everyone turned to look at the man who placed it, who didn't even look confident at his bet, despite his efforts. A couple people muttered and mumbled like this bet would become a curse despite the nine being the next card. Most however looked at him like he was a suicide or simply an idiot.
The croupier was frantically changing the cash for chips with the inspector whispering in her ear to draw. 'Faster, faster,' he said. But every time she wanted to draw someone wanted to put more money on Player. She was a pitiful spectacle.
The section for Player was loaded, almost spilling into the middle section where Egalité was located.
'Now!'
'No more bets!' the dealer's voice rang shrilly, throwing back a note someone threw at her.
The first card was a nine, as everyone knew, a nine of diamonds. The second card was a monkey, that is, a face card - the queen of hearts. The third card was…a two of hearts.
Cries of vexation were heard. The fourth card was an eight of spades. Game over.
'Banker wins,' said the dealer, a relieved joyful flush blossoming on her face. She collected a massive amount of losing bets.
'Oh my God…'
'See,' said Lan, completely oblivious and unconcerned with the losses almost everyone had taken, including her family who had lost thousands in one hand. 'At least someone won.'
'If he hadn't put it on Banker - Why did you put on Banker?' Lan's mother asked furiously.
Quite a number of people agreed with the sentiment, that Namir's bet disturbed the natural order of things and that he was the reason they had lost.
Namir shrugged his shoulders, barely able to contain his pleasure and the thrill he had just experienced.
'Isn't it good that someone wins?' Lan asked.
'Come sit next to me, Lan. I need you to play. Things are not going according to expectation.'
'I want another drink.'
'You haven't even finished the one in your hand.'
'Yeah I have.'
The glass was more than half full.
'I'll be back in a minute.'
They watched her go in frustration all but Muhammad and Namir who had their eyes on the Baccarat table. Muhammed threw more money on the table, wishing to make his money back, while Namir caught a little fever, wishing to make more money. He also placed another bet. Both let Lan go to the bar on her own.
When she noticed that they hadn't followed her she furrowed her brow a little in annoyance but then the thought that they were playing to impress her came to her mind. It pleased her and happily she asked for another glass of prosecco and a Sambuca shot.
'Where are your friends?' the barman asked her.
'Gambling.'
'And they don't like to drink, do they?'
'No I guess not. They like to play, like all my family.'
'All your family? They want you to play too?'
'Yeah. They want me to play.'
The barman sighed and shook his head.
'Everyone around us always wants us to pick a poison. God knows why every culture must have its poison like an edict, exhorting one to accept it, and poison oneself like Salieri did Mozart.' The barman stopped momentarily as he mused and then continued. 'I guess that's one good thing about multiculturalism in a metropolis. You have more poisons to choose from. They picked a more dangerous poison if you ask me.'
'You would say that wouldn't you, a barman.'
She downed her shot of Sambuca and looked up to see Muhammad pass her to go to a cash machine.
'But I haven't picked mine yet.'
'No?'
'What, I don't think I settled on…oh you're talking about.. Ha. Maybe I have. If this is a poison, and these casino games likewise, at least I know how this one works and I'm sure about the outcome.'
And didn't she know it too well, surely knowing about this outcome, being almost carried out by the two guys she came with an hour later, two guys depressed that their lot lied with a lush from a gambling family.
