My First Girlfriend- Pt. 1

My name's Raleigh Epps, and I gamble.

I grew up in Canada; Alberta specifically. My parents were, are, rich. Seriously. I'm talking seriously. They have the kind of money that insulates you from reality. The kind of money where you can be rude to your house staff and get away with it, cause all rich people have a peculiar kind of adorability, like babies or handicaps. They're rich enough to have a house staff, true, but they aren't rude to them cause, you know, they're Canadian.

I left home at 18 and have bummed around the States ever since, so I don't have much on an accent; unless I'm mad, which is never, or drunk, which is often. Even when people spot my accent, they think I'm from Minnesota or Wisconsin. It's like they can spot that I'm from somewhere cold, but can't fathom I'm from outside the US. It's just not exotic enough. I wish I were from Norway, but I'd make a disappointing Viking.

Anyway, for a long time I relied on my parents' money, staying in New York, then Boston, then just working my way South. "Working" isn't strictly literal. I had jobs, but nothing for long and never anything with much responsibility. Back then, people weren't as reluctant to hire immigrants, even ones without papers. Yes, I'm a fabled Illegal. I even take in hundreds of thousands of dollars a year selling drugs to American teenagers, but more on my sordid business affairs later.

I stopped asking for money after I found my way to Louisiana. They still send me checks on Christmas and my birthday for more than Dajad, my neighbor, makes in a year, and I still cash them, but I never ask. I came into my own when I spent a while on a gambling boat, raking in so much cash that they eventually put me off in a weird little backwater town. I think they hoped the inbred mud people would catch and eat me.

I'm brilliant when it comes to magic, but I'm not a genius; I can't count cards. I can't bluff worth a shit. I even confuse baccarat with backgammon. So how'd I get rich at the casino? I'm lucky. Don't shake your head. I'm really, ridiculously, sometimes disgustingly lucky. Put me at a craps table and the dealer will break out in a cold sweat. Roulette table? I'll put the fucker in a coma.

I don't live in Vegas anymore cause I won seventeen grand on the money wheel and got banned from a third of the casinos on the Strip. Look it up. I was in the paper.

This story's not about when I hung out on the Paddle Wheel though. It's about Mary.