Smith's Monthly #25 Read online

  Copyright Information

  Smith’s Monthly Issue #25

  All Contents copyright © 2015 Dean Wesley Smith

  Published by WMG Publishing

  Cover and interior design copyright © 2015 WMG Publishing

  Cover art copyright © by Philcold/Dreamstime.com

  “Introduction: A Tale of Three Books” copyright © 2015 Dean Wesley Smith

  “Luck Be A Lady” copyright © 2015 Dean Wesley Smith, cover design copyright © 2015 WMG Publishing

  “Peter the Hermit” copyright © 2015 Dean Wesley Smith, cover design copyright © 2015 WMG Publishing

  An Easy Shot copyright © 2015 Dean Wesley Smith, cover design copyright © 2015 WMG Publishing, cover art by Fotoslaz/Dreamstime.com

  “Call Me Unfixable” copyright © 2015 Dean Wesley Smith, cover design copyright © 2015 WMG Publishing

  “Clicking Sticks” copyright © 2015 Dean Wesley Smith, cover design copyright © 2015 WMG Publishing

  Star Mist: A Seeders Universe Novel copyright © 2015 Dean Wesley Smith, cover design copyright © 2015 WMG Publishing. Cover art copyright © by Philcold/Dreamstime.com

  This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. All characters and events portrayed in the fiction in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to real people or incidents is purely coincidental. This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission.

  CONTENTS

  Short Stories

  Luck Be a Lady: A Poker Boy Story

  Peter the Hermit

  Call Me Unfixable: A Bryant Street Story

  Clicking Sticks

  Full Novel

  Star Mist: A Seeders Novel

  Serial Novel

  An Easy Shot: A Golf Thriller (Part 8 of 8)

  Nonfiction

  Introduction: The Tale of Three Books

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  Copyright Information

  Full Table of Contents

  Introduction

  THE TALE OF THREE BOOKS

  In this first issue of the third year of Smith’s Monthly, two events are happening at the same time.

  The first event is that the eighth and last installment of the novel An Easy Shot is in this issue.

  An Easy Shot has a back story. It was first published in a very different form under another name and under one of my pen names.

  When the publisher decided to shut down, they did the very honorable thing and reverted all rights to the authors of all the books they had published, or had under contract.

  In this modern world, that is almost unheard of.

  I had no plan of ever bringing this novel back into print. I had written it specifically for that publisher and they had treated it very well. In fact, as with most of my novels from those years, I had just forgotten it. Then a friend told me about how she had indie published her novel from that same publisher and her readers seemed to be enjoying it.

  So since that press had a very clear slant that I wrote the novel to fill, I started back through the novel, bringing it up to speed, writing a bunch new every month, changing the slant, and finally giving this novel a new life, one month at a time over the last eight months.

  So two things allowed this to happen.

  First, a very generous original publisher who reverted the rights when I requested them. And secondly, this new publishing world that allows me to do this magazine every month now for twenty-five months.

  At some point down the road, I will put the entire novel together in one issue, but for the moment, the thriller is finally done after eight months.

  Second event in this issue is the publication of the novel Star Mist: A Seeders Universe Novel. Star Mist stands alone just fine as a novel, but it is also clear that the problem the characters in the novel are facing continues far beyond the last page.

  The problem actually will continue for a second novel, Star Rain in the next issue. Just as the Seeders universe is huge, this two-book mini-series covers a massive event in an already massive universe.

  So as one serial ends, two novels start that can be looked at as one big story as well.

  I sure hope you enjoy the novels as much as I enjoyed writing them.

  And I hoped you enjoyed An Easy Shot.

  Next month, I will be starting a brand new serial novel, plus a writing series.

  Of course, every issue will have all the short fiction as well.

  Thanks for the support of this wild and crazy project. I’m sure having fun and I hope, as this magazine heads into its third year, you will stick with me. The ride has just begun.

  —Dean Wesley Smith

  October 3, 2015

  Lincoln City, Oregon

  Missing! Laverne, Lady Luck herself.

  Poker Boy, Front Desk Girl, and Screamer chase after every lead, as well as every other Gambling God and hero in the gambling universe. The three of them get to the truth of what happened to Laverne.

  But saving the world from unraveling? Without luck, they may not have the time.

  LUCK BE A LADY

  A Poker Boy Story

  ONE

  One night, while playing in a great, no-limit game, I was asked if I believed in luck. I said, “Sure, I’ve met her.” That got a laugh and the subject changed.

  Now understand that professional poker players like me tend to really downplay the factor of luck in our sport, using the great old saying, “It will all even out.”

  I have to admit that I agree with that, even though I sometimes wonder why luck exists at all when a bad player hits a two-outer to beat me out of a few hundred bucks. Particularly when I know I had the best hand going to the last card, and ninety-four-point-four percent of the time I will win that same hand. Correct as far as the math goes, but not very comforting as I watch the idiot player pull my money toward him.

  Most people would say in those circumstances that I was unlucky and the idiot was lucky. I never looked at it that way. I just repeated, “It will all even out,” as if I didn’t really believe in luck.

  I have to admit, I’ve hit my share of two-outers over the years against other players. But as Poker Boy, one of the only superheroes in the Poker World, I try not to get into hands where the only way I can win is hit one of two cards left in the deck that could win the hand for me. It is just too embarrassing.

  So, do I actually believe in luck? Like I said, sure. I’ve met her. And I’m not kidding. And she scared hell out of me.

  Her name is Laverne, and she runs everything. She’s the top Gambling God, the CEO of all gambling of all types, including risks in business, health, sports, and life in general. She’s the one woman in the world you would not want mad at you.

  I met her right after the big problems with the Ghost Slot machines. She is what you would imagine Lady Luck to be: short, but powerful, brown hair pulled back, with brown eyes that see through everything. She is completely in control of all the Gods of Gambling. She flat scared me speechless when she thanked Front Desk Girl, my sidekick, and me. She said we did a “damn fine” job in rescuing the gambling industry. Then she smiled.

  Those who wish “Lady Luck to smile on them” have never actually had it happen. I was trembling so hard that all I could do was nod and just try to stammer out a “Thanks.”

  Stan, the God of Poker and my boss, later told me I did just fine. He told me he gets scared every time he has to meet Laverne as well. Usually he just reports to Burt, the God of Casino Operations, who is his boss and second in command of all Gambling Gods under Laverne.

  I had hoped to never have a reason to meet Laverne again. I had no idea how long superheroes in the gambling industry lived, but no matt
er how long it was going to be for me, I did not want to end up in that office of hers again. However, like any poker player, I kept hoping she would “smile” on me every so often from a distance, especially when I stumbled into one of those two-outer situations on the wrong side.

  But distance from Lady Luck wasn’t to be an option for me.

  It was a calm Christmas Eve.

  Christmas Eve always tends to bring me strange problems to solve, weird people to rescue, and once even an old girlfriend with new boobs that she thought aliens wanted. So, wouldn’t you just know that it would be on Christmas Eve that the biggest problem of my short 42 years would come calling.

  It was around six-thirty, and I had just finished some darned fine turkey with dressing and gravy in the casino buffet, after which I sat down in a really nice three/five no limit cash game. I lived in a manufactured home about a half-mile from the Native American casino I liked to call my “home casino.” and when home I always ate at the casino, usually in the buffet. For some reason, the cooks there were just better than even my ability to microwave a Hungry Man dinner.

  On Christmas Eve in a casino, it is usually only the hardcore players, and this Christmas was no exception. About fourteen guys and two women crowded around two of the eleven poker tables. I would have bet that not a one of us had much family, and clearly none of us had anything better to do on a very cold and damp Tuesday night in December in Oregon.

  I had just picked up a pair of nines in late position behind three players who had already limped in. There was just not much for me to do with those cards in that position except call and hope to hit a set. If I tried raising with the nines, anyone who would call me would surely have me beat. But if I got in cheap and hit a third nine on the flop, I could make a bunch of money. So, as I tossed a five dollar chip out in front of me, I felt a hand on my shoulder and glanced up.

  It was Stan, the God of Poker.

  Now, the last thing you need on a calm Christmas Eve after a good turkey dinner is the God of Poker standing behind you not looking happy. All I could think about was that I had somehow screwed up rescuing that woman with big hair and an even bigger dog a few days before. I had managed to get her professional help right before she started stealing funds from the school where she was the bookkeeper to pay for her poker debt. She was, without a doubt, the worst poker player I had ever met. Everything she knew about the game she had learned by watching late night poker on television. To her, a seven-deuce off-suit was as powerful as a pair of kings, and she always got angry when she lost with that combination, which was most every time she played.

  I just hoped she wasn’t back in a poker room again.

  “After the hand,” Stan said, “a word.”

  Everyone at the table glanced up at Stan, then just looked away. They had no idea who they were looking at, and that he was the guy they were always asking for help or being angry at. More than likely Stan had some sort of “don’t pay attention to me” shield up.

  I nodded, glanced back at the flop to see that no nine had hit the table, then stood, leaving my cards face down in front of my spot with a nod at the dealer to fold them out when it came around to my turn. I quickly grabbed my chips and stuffed them in my pocket. If Stan had come to get me, chances are it was going to be a little while before I returned to the game.

  I zipped up my superhero uniform as I followed Stan toward the poker room front door. My uniform is a short, black leather jacket and a fedora-like golf hat. Both allow me to take my superhero energy from any casino I am in or near. I had a hunch that Stan coming to get me meant I was going to need just about all my powers. In all the years I had worked for him, he had never done this.

  Ever.

  Normally I just stumbled into the people who needed my help. And if I needed to talk to Stan, I went to find him.

  Something was really wrong.

  As we stepped out of the poker room and into the larger casino area, my hometown casino just faded away and I suddenly found myself in Stan’s office. Out his big picture window, the lights of Vegas lit up the Christmas Eve sky. I loved Vegas. I just hadn’t expected to be here at the moment.

  And I didn’t expect Patty Ledgerwood, a.k.a. Front Desk Girl, to stand and greet me as well. She looked like she had just come from a corporate business meeting, with a fashionable brown pantsuit over a white blouse. Simple pearls were all that she wore for jewelry, and she had her long brown hair down and combed perfectly. Stunning was the only way to describe her, and my breath just caught in my throat like I had caught a pair of aces playing head’s up late in a tournament.

  She gave me a huge and long hug, and I have to admit, I returned the hug, getting lost in her long brown hair and her wonderful smell of apricots. Since the big affair with the Ghost Slots, Patty and I had been an item, a couple, good friends, and great partners in a number of other adventures. Clearly Stan figured whatever was wrong was going to need us both again.

  “Merry Christmas,” she said, giving me that beaming smile that made my knees weak as she pushed me out to arm’s length. For a moment I got lost in her big brown eyes, then she kissed me.

  Right there in front of the God of Poker.

  I didn’t care. I kissed her back. Christmas Eve was looking up, that was for sure.

  Suddenly I wished I hadn’t zipped up my leather jacket. Warm wasn’t half of what I was feeling right at that moment.

  “Excuse me,” Stan said, dropping into his chair with a look of amusement on his face as we pulled apart, “but we have a problem that could use you two.”

  He pointed to the chairs in front of his desk and we sat. But I didn’t let go of her hand. Patty and I had a real connection, even so much that we could stop time around us, using parts of both of our powers to do it. Besides, I just liked the feel of her skin against mine and couldn’t believe a woman as good looking as she was would even be interested in a poker player like me.

  “Okay, right to the point,” Stan said, suddenly very serious. “Laverne is missing.”

  That was such a stupid statement, I just snorted, not a very appealing sound, but one that suited such an absurd statement.

  “Now, seriously,” Patty said, letting go of my hand and leaning in toward Stan. “What exactly is going on?”

  Stan didn’t blink, and I couldn’t get a read on him in any way. He was the God of Poker after all, and had the best poker face that ever existed.

  “Not kidding, I’m afraid,” he said. “Laverne has gone missing. As of two hours and six minutes ago real time, there has been no such thing as luck, either good or bad, in the world.”

  Patty opened her pretty mouth, then closed it without saying a word. I just sat back and stared at Stan. There was no reason at all he would play some sort of prank on us on Christmas Eve, let alone suggest such a thing as Lady Luck herself being missing. Such a thing could get even the God of Poker fired.

  But to be honest, in my lowly position as a superhero in the gambling world, I had no idea who might be more powerful than Laverne. I had heard about Karen, Stew, and Mickey, the Gods of Death, Dying, and Spirits; but unless Laverne’s time had come to leave this planet, I couldn’t imagine those three being involved.

  And way back in time there used to be a guy called Zeus who had other names down through time, but he was officially retired and out of the game.

  Hell, Laverne had been around since the time of the Greeks and way before. Over the centuries she had taken over all of gambling. From what I had heard, she had gained power over the last few centuries until she was now one of the most powerful of them all. Even all the sports gods, financial gods, and health gods now reported to her.

  About the only gods who outranked her now were The Powers That Be and the Fates. I had no doubt that someone far above me would be contacting them pretty soon, if this didn’t get cleared up.

  “Why do you say missing?” Patty asked. “Did she maybe just go on vacation?”

  “My bosses are calling it a kidnapping,�
� Stan said. “But I’m not so sure about that. She is missing and they are panicked, to be honest with you. Even the Fates are stumped. And since you two did such a good job on the Ghost Slot problem, Burt wants you both in on this as well, even though every god above you is also working on this.”

  “You don’t expect much out of us, I hope,” I said.

  He shrugged but didn’t disagree. Always better to keep a boss’s expectations low; then when something works out, you look even better.

  I wanted to ask him what he thought a couple of lowly superheroes could do to find Lady Luck herself. Stan knew the odds, and without luck playing a part in anything at the moment, it was only odds that ruled the world. Simple odds. And the odds in this case were not with Patty and me.

  Suddenly it dawned on me what I had thought.

  Odds.

  I needed someone to compute straight computer odds on exactly where Laverne might be, and I knew exactly who could do it.

  I sat back, thinking, as Patty asked Stan another question.

  “What’s going to happen to the world without luck?” Patty asked.

  “No one really knows,” Stan said. “It’s been a part of human nature since the beginning of time.”

  “I’m betting it’s going to get real boring,” I said.

  Patty and Stan both nodded to that.

  TWO

  One hour later, Patty and I sat in a small diner just down the street from Binion’s Hotel and Casino in downtown Las Vegas. One street over, the light show along Freemont was going full force for those out on Christmas Eve, but inside the café it was just the two of us. Our gum-popping waitress, Madge, had on her usual too-tight brown uniform with a stained apron over the front. On my first visit to this café, I had learned to never look at Madge as she walked away. Let’s just say she wore underwear of the type that not even a skinny woman could be comfortable in. And Madge was far from thin, no matter how small a uniform she jammed herself into every day.