In the end, the man folded, and Crash Boy won the hand with his bluff.
It would have been impossible not to feel nervous. Crash Boy knew that if the man had gone all in, he would have lost every chip he had.
The man would not have agonized over the decision for so long if his hand had been weak. He had hesitated over whether to call because his hand was strong, but not quite strong enough to make the choice easy.
And judging by the sudden raise he had made when the fourth community card appeared, his hole cards were clearly a six and an eight, giving him a four-to-eight straight.
Crash Boy had spotted exactly that and made one decisive, heavy bet on the final round.
Fortunately, Crash Boy had nerves of steel. Not once had he let the man in glasses catch the slightest tell on his face. Coupled with his steady play in the previous hands, that made the man more willing to believe he was not bluffing.
So the pot, which had grown to more than thirty thousand dollars, was pushed across the table to Crash Boy.
Part of that had come from his own all-in bet, but Crash Boy had still made more than ten thousand dollars on the hand.
Crash Boy calmly stacked his chips, then stood. "I'm done. You guys keep playing."
A flicker of displeasure crossed the man's face. But in a Las Vegas casino, a player had the right to leave at any time, no matter how much they had won. Refusing to let someone leave after losing to them was poor sportsmanship, so the man kept his irritation to himself.
After Crash Boy and his companions left, the man looked toward the Young Man's seat. Unable to contain