I rattled the dice in my hands with everyone else around. Nat stood beside me, with Jack on the other side and Wally at the end of the table. The rest of the table was filled with regular people crowding in to get in on my “hot streak.”
I tossed the dice hard, but expelled a thin, precise stream of air that made the dice dance just the way I wanted them, finally showing a 4 and a 3.
“Seven, a winner,” called the croupier.
He used the rack to push the dice back in my direction as well as my winnings, which stacked up to be several thousand dollars.
This beats the insurance agent day job, for sure.
Wally, though, at the other end, shook his head, disapproving of my technique.
Nat leaned in close. “Remember, light enough to not even rustle a girl’s skirt.”
“I’d prefer that kind of practice,” I grinned.
“Not until you can do this,” but she put a hand on my ass and squeezed hard.
I rattled the dice again.
There are worse ways to train.
“Let it ride,” I said.