Free Broken Man by Christopher Scott

eventually, he reassured himself.
    “So, where are you from,” the overweight businessman to Jack’s right asked as the dealer dealt the next hand.
    “I’m from South Florida,” Jack replied as he tossed deuce seven into the muck, the worst hand in poker. “How about you.”
    “I’m from Philadelphia,” he responded as he called a raise. “Just down for the weekend.”
    Jack waited for the flop to come and the man to fold to the inevitable continuation bet before continuing the conversation, pleased to make friends with the man to his right who would be providing most of his profit for the night.
    “So, what do you do for a living,” Jack killed some time between hands.
    “I own a car dealership on the northeast side of town,” he replied as he took a swallow of his bourbon and coke, easily identifiable by its aroma and Jack’s heightened senses. “How about you?”
    “I run a resort,” he halfway told the truth as the dealer dealt the next hand. “Your business must be as tough as mine with this economy.”
    “It’s a little slow, but we are surviving,” he replied as he looked at his cards. “I just can’t get anything tonight.”
    “It will change,” Jack replied, referencing both the cards and the economy as he looked down at pocket jacks and tossed in a raise before temporarily shutting down the conversation so he could concentrate on his hand. “Good luck to you tonight.”
    Everyone folded to his raise and Jack collected a small pot, again out of rhythm with the table. As he stacked his chips, Jack eyes scanned the room for a better table and accidentally caught the eye of Amanda at table four, his new friend from Atlantic City. As he returned her smile, he was surprised to find his car dealer friend had noticed.
    “She is something else,” he warned Jack. “Beautiful, but cold as ice.”
    “She is beautiful,” Jack replied absentmindedly, although he had not really thought about it until now.
    Yes, she really is beautiful, Jack thought to himself, the kind of woman he would have been interested in before Brittany. Smart, funny, ambitious, independent, and yes, stunning. Long auburn hair tied up haphazardly as if she didn’t care, yet somehow still sophisticated in appearance. Perfectly shaped, dark brown eyes that complimented her olive skin and spoke volumes about what she was thinking. An incredible figure she couldn’t hide beneath her dealer’s uniform, so noticeable, impossible to conceal.
    “The action is on you, sir,” the dealer interrupted Jack’s thoughts.
    “Oh, sorry about that,” Jack responded as he quickly checked his cards before throwing them into the muck.
    “Get back in the game, Jack,” the fat man to his right smiled and chided him. “As they always say in poker, women are the rake in life.”
    “Yes, they truly are,” Jack agreed to the poker colloquialism with a smile, although he never quite understood what it meant.
    The rake in poker is the percentage the casino takes from the pot, Jack thought to himself. Why would women be considered the rake in life?Maybe the analogy is valid with regard to some antiquated view of women as the stereotypical gold diggers, femme fatales out to manipulate men and bleed them dry. Sure, some women are still like that, but shouldn’t the man be to blame for pursuing this kind of woman. Maybe the male ego is the rake in life, Jack settled on a new saying, knowing it wasn’t catchy enough to stick.
    Jack could sense that Amanda certainly wasn’t this kind of woman. No, she was surprisingly unpretentious, especially considering her beauty. Straightforward almost to the point of bluntness, honest in both her appearance and her conversation. Wanting to make a difference in the world, to leave it a better place. No, Amanda definitely wasn’t the rake, she would undoubtedly contribute to and enrich any man she was with.
    But, she isn’t Brittany, Jack felt guilty as he came to his senses, and she never will be. No, he