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    Luck o' the Irish
    Luck o' the Irish
    Luck o' the Irish
    Ebook138 pages1 hour

    Luck o' the Irish

    By Stephen D. Sullivan

    ()

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    About this ebook

    Some people seem to have all the luck! Roguish Shawn O'Gale has won and lost some big gambles in his day - and he prefers to win! Join our hero (and a bevy of hot babes) as he travels from Boston to the glitter and glitz of Las Vegas. But be wary! Not all that glitters is gold - and even a lucky pocket watch isn't much help when you've been thrown out of an airplane!

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherStephen D. Sullivan
    Release dateDec 11, 2010
    ISBN9781466080232
    Luck o' the Irish
    Author

    Stephen D. Sullivan

    Stephen D. Sullivan has written more than 50 books across many genres: fantasy, SF, horror, detective, movie adaptations, and more. Readers the world over enjoy his fast-moving prose style and hard-hitting action sequences. He has won numerous awards for his work, including the 2016 Scribe Award for his horror-comedy novel, Manos: The Hands of Fate.Not sure where to start? Try these:NEW! Manos: Talons of FateBEST SELLER: Manos: The Hands of Fate (2016 Scribe Award Winner)HORROR & MONSTERS: Daikaiju AttackFANTASY: Tournament of Death novelsSCIENCE FICTION: Heart of Steam & RustADULT: Elf Erotica (Elf Princess on Mars)OVERVIEW: Martian Knights & Other TalesThere are plenty of others to choose from, too. (Including some books from other authors published by Steve's Company, Walkabout Publishing.)Browse! Buy! Enjoy!

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      Book preview

      Luck o' the Irish - Stephen D. Sullivan

      LUCK O’ THE IRISH

      Stephen D. Sullivan

      • Walkabout Publishing •

      Smashwords edition.

      © 2010 Stephen D. Sullivan

      This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to the vendor of your choice and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

      *

      Walkabout Publishing

      S.D.Studios

      P.O.Box 151

      Kansasville, WI 53139

      www.walkaboutpublishing.com

      All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, scanning, or any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission of the author.

      Cover art & design © 2010 Stephen D. Sullivan

      Thanks to Edward, Jean, & Kiff.

      And to Paul McComas for the 2010 proof.

      Get a free wallpaper of this story at www.stephendsullivan.com!

      For

      Augustus H. Sullivan

      &

      Pearl C. Sullivan—

      Long gone, still missed.

      and

      For the Boston Celtics—

      Always.

      Contents

      1. A Chance Meeting

      2. Viva, Las Vegas

      3. As the Wheel Turns

      4. High Rollers

      5. In the Cards

      6. Ups and Downs

      7. Coyote Luck

      8. The Crock O’ Gold

      9. The End of the Rainbow

      10. Faerie Luck

      11. Black Russians

      12. The Czar’s Treasure

      13. Mad Russians & Irishmen

      14. Dangerous Game

      Samples of Other Stories

      The Last Ranodon

      The Gift of the Dragons

      Crash of the Titans

      Monster Shark

      Last Call at Corona (A Roswell Story)

      The Secret Origin of Luck o’ the Irish

      About the Author

      Original Cover

      ONE

      A Chance Meeting

      Name your price, said the politician, smiling broadly in my direction.

      I stuffed another forkful of potato skin with sour cream, bacon, and cheddar cheese into my mouth as if I were considering his offer. Congressman Fitzgerald was an influential force in Massachusetts, and Mother O’Gale taught me to give powerful people due respect. In Fitzgerald’s case, this respect lasted about ten seconds—which is a lot more than I would have given other pols.

      I put the fork down and looked at my watch, my eyes tracing the intricate Celtic knots on its case as I flipped it open. The time read seven past seven in the evening—a good omen. Maybe.

      Sorry, I said slowly, but it’s not for sale.

      Fitzgerald smiled as if he couldn’t believe he’d heard me correctly. Lines like canyons creased his wide red brow; his bushy white eyebrows knitted together. He pursed his thin lips, and his dark pupils gleamed in small but intense eyes. Clearly he wasn’t used to being turned down.

      Now, look, Shawn—do you mind if I call you Shawn?

      I shrugged, as it clearly didn’t matter to him whether I minded or not. Politicians tend to do what they want anyway.

      Shawn, he continued, I’ve been looking for a watch like that for a long time. It reminds me of one my grandfather brought from Ireland when he first came to this country. I’d really like to have it, and I’m willing to give you anything you think is fair for it. You look tired, like maybe you could use a vacation—are you taking a plane out?

      No, I said. Actually, I’ve taken a fancy to one of the waitresses who works in this little airport bar and grill. Just my bad luck she isn’t working tonight. I took another bite of potato skin.

      Well, I’m taking a plane out, and I don’t have much time. So, since you could use a vacation, why don’t we make a trade. You give me the watch, and I’ll arrange to lend you my cottage on the Cape for a week—staff included. Bring your lady friend if you like. If you need, I could talk to your boss, arrange the time off for you.

      I chewed carefully, as if considering the offer. Finally, I said, I’m self-employed.

      A busy man, then? he asked. I nodded. "Well, okay, then, let’s cut the bull. I told you to name your price, and you wouldn’t. You don’t seem interested in trading either. Surely there’s something you’re interested in, something a man in my position could give you.

      Do you want to meet the Governor, or the President? I can arrange it. Tax trouble? I can fix it. Just give me a hint here; tell me what it is that you need. What turns you on?

      Actually, I said, leaning back in my chair, there is something I rather fancy. . . . I like a bit of a game now and then.

      The congressman raised his eyebrows. Pardon?

      You know. Games of chance. Gambling.

      Fitzgerald’s dark eyes lit up, and he smiled a winning, professional smile—one guaranteed to melt the hearts of constituents.

      Well, then, he said. Name your game. He checked his wristwatch. It has to be brief, though. I’ve got a plane to catch.

      All right, then, I said, leaning forward now as if engaging in some great conspiracy. I dropped my voice so only he could hear. I’ll put my watch up against your plane ticket. We’ll draw one card from a deck. High card wins. You draw first.

      But you don’t even know where I’m going.

      I smiled. I like to go where the wind blows me.

      But I paid full price for this ticket.

      A minute ago, you were willing to pay any price for this watch, I said, dangling the timepiece in front of him on its long chain. The watch sparkled magically in the bar’s dim light. I knew I had him.

      All right, he said, gruffly nodding his head. I suppose you have cards on you?

      I do, but you can pick up a new deck from the shop next door, if you like.

      Fitzgerald nodded. I’d prefer that.

      Go fetch them, then, I said, leaning back and propping my feet on the barstool between us. Hurry back.

      The congressman frowned and grumbled a bit, obviously not used to running his own errands—especially when a scruffy-looking rogue like me might have done it for him. He puffed to the knickknack shop next to the bar and returned several minutes later with a pack of fresh Bicycles. As he broke the seal, I wiped the last bit of sour cream from my lips and took my feet down.

      Shuffle, I said, trying hard to make it not sound like a command.

      Fitzgerald did as he was told, expertly manipulating the deck for a minute or so. He handed the cards to me. I split the pack roughly in half, put the bottom set on the top, and handed the deck back to him.

      As he straightened the deck, I said, You draw first, Congressman.

      He put the deck on the bar and carefully selected a card from about a third of the way in. He looked at it and smiled. King of clubs, he said with smug satisfaction as he showed me the card.

      I nodded at him. My turn, then. I let my hand hover over the deck for a moment or two to build suspense. Then I reached in and plucked out a card from near the bottom of the pile.

      As I pulled it out, I turned the card toward Fitzgerald, and the expression on his face told me all I needed to know. I broke into a broad smile as I glanced at the card. Ace of hearts, I said, trying not to sound too self-satisfied.

      Not a magician, are you? Fitzgerald grumbled as he reached into his coat pocket.

      Nope. Just a lucky guy, I replied, taking the plane ticket from him. I dropped it into the front pocket of my leather Boston Celtics starter jacket while simultaneously stuffing my pocket watch back into my pants. My fist came back out of the pocket with enough money to pay my tab. I dropped the cash on the bar.

      Fitzgerald raised his glass to me. Well, he said, enjoy your trip.

      I will.

      As I left the bar for the parcel locker, he called after me, Where’d you get that watch, anyway? Maybe I can get another.

      Ireland, I said. But I’m afraid it’s one of a kind.

      Ireland, eh? he said, his voice fading into the din of the airport as I walked away. Must be the luck o’ the Irish.

      When I reached the airport lockers, I fished the key out of my pants and retrieved my Celtics backpack from where I’d left it

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