The air was redolent with the scent of cigarettes and perfume. Dean looked around the table at the other players, trying to decide who was the one to beat.
Mr. Jersey Shore?
Nah. He was already sweating like a pig and they were only six hands in.
The Texan, maybe. He looked like he took his cards seriously. Then Dean saw the man's trembling hands and crossed him off the list.
The woman. Yes. She tried to come across like Betty Boop, but she had a lot going on behind her eyes.
Dean smiled at her lazily. "Let's play cards."