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“Thirteen,” the older gentleman says
“Eighteen,” the cowboy says
Shit
“Twelve,” I say, hoping that I won’t have to play my ten and that someone else bids lower
“Twenty-four,” the slick suit says
“Thirty,” the tattooed man says
“Twenty-five,” the older gentleman says
All eyes fall to me
Shit
“Mrs Pearce, would you like to bid higher? If not, bidding is closed and you lose this round,” the dealer says
There is no point bidding higher Even if I played all of my cards, it would still only be twenty-ter than the next lowest bid
I shake my head
“If everyone would please lay down the cards they bid face down so I can check your bids,” the dealer says
Everyone places their bid cards face down, and he collects the the bet that was placed was in fact in their hands
When the dealer collectseach of the tasks He whispers into a microphone and then looks back at the table