‘Wow,’ she said. ‘That’s such a big bet. He’s trying to scare me.’ She pouted around at the rest of the table. ‘I wish I could ask one of you for help. Okay, okay, let’s see.’ She checked her hole cards again. ‘Hmm. I don’t know what to do.’

She giggled again, fumbling with her chips. Eram looked around and saw that most of the guys were smiling, enchanted by her performance.

Idiots, he thought. She knows exactly what she’s doing. All that little speech means is that she’s got a strong hand. Maybe a big ace, or even two pairs. I hope she does, she’ll be more likely to call my bets.

But when she pushed her chips across the betting line, it wasn’t just a flat call. The dealer quickly counted the chips. ‘Seat seven re-raise three hundred twenty-five thousand.’

‘Oh,’ the girl said, putting a hand to her mouth. ‘I didn’t mean to raise. I can’t even count. How lame is that?’ More giggles. She widened her eyes at the dealer. ‘Can I take it back?’

The dealer was also a man and, therefore, also susceptible to her Bambi-with-boobs charm. He said no, but in a way that suggested he really, really wanted to say yes. Eram almost laughed out loud.

Does no one else see through her? She’s obviously pretending that she didn’t mean to re-raise in order to disguise the strength of her hand. Definitely two pairs. She’s trying to induce bluffs or all-in shoves from weaker hands like top pair. Time to give her the bad news.

‘I’m all-in,’ he said.

‘Call,’ Bambi said instantly. There were no giggles, no more fumbling with chips. Eram couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment the floor dropped out from beneath his feet, but a fair estimate would be around the time his opponent flipped her cards face up. He stood up to get a better look across the table.

Five deuce off-suit. Such a garbage hand that even the most reckless of gamblers would have thrown it away so near the bubble. Yet Bambi had played it to perfection, making a straight on the turn with the same card that had given Eram his set. She had counted on him to dismiss the five deuce as a hand that nobody—especially, let’s be honest, a ditzy girl—would play.

Eram sat back slowly, numb with shock. He met Bambi’s eyes and she winked at him.

‘You still have “outs” in the deck,’ she said. It was true; if the board paired on the river, he would trump her straight with a full-house, but somehow, in that moment, her kindness or pity in pointing this out only made everything worse.

Poker tables were where dreams came to die. Ten cards in the deck could have saved Eram’s tournament life and, of course, the river card was none of them. He got to his feet and glanced at the leader board. The bubble had burst. He was player #177, the Bubble Boy. Around the table, happy laughter broke out and people traded fist bumps at being in the money. From this point on, they were all guaranteed a minimum cash of at least two lakh rupees.