Molly's Game Page #2

babysitting money and

that would support me until

I found a waitressing job.

I'd already had a career

and retired from it.

I wanted to be young

for a while in warm weather.

I think that's what

I wanted at first.

It's hard to remember.

I got a job working

bottle service

at a club in Hollywood called

Nacional Nightclub.

It was Cuban-themed.

So my uniform was camouflage

short-shorts and a wife-beater.

The promoter would go over

which record producer

was sitting where...

which hot designers,

which Lakers,

and Boris Lava, the

Bulgarian billionaire,

who didn't drink but

who ran $100,000 bar tab.

My job was to get people to spend

more money than they needed to.

Could we get a bottle of Sky?

You guys look like

you deserve Grey Goose.

What do guys who deserve

Grey Goose look like?

To begin with, they got a bottle

of Grey Goose in front of 'em.

You're quick. Very clever.

Uh, all right, yeah. Grey Goose.

They just spent an

additional $300,

bringing their total to $900

for $8.50 worth or vodka.

But the club doesn't need

you to buy a bottle.

They need you to

buy five bottles.

So these girls over here,

they let you buy them

shots for a living.

It would be like waiting in a

long line to get into the Gap

so you can pay a 1,000

percent mark-up

to buy all the employees

a pair of pants.

I only had one shift a week.

I didn't want to tell my parents

I was a cocktail waitress.

And back then, I

never turned down

an opportunity to

make more money.

So I found a second job

as an office assistant

and that's how I ended up

working for Dean Keith.

Dean was a partner in

Blackhues Investments.

He was a regular at the club

and one night, he said,

People seem to take to you.

Hey, how'd you like to get

paid to go to grad school

and get an MBA in

how life works?

What makes you think

you know and I don't?

I'm a regular here

and you're a waitress here.

Look at the f***in' scoreboard.

Dean explained what

my job was by saying,

Me. I'm your job.

I answered the phone, made

coffee runs, set appointments,

-made spreadsheets.

-What is that?

and showed Dean what

a spreadsheet was.

Spreadsheet.

But I made $450

a week on top of

the $300 I was

making at the club,

which would be enough to

get off my friend's couch.

I remember the day started

by being about bagels.

-This is Molly.

-Get to the office. Pick up bagels.

Do you mean now?

Dean was a Hollywood staple.

Over-leveraged, going broke,

trying to prove he wasn't broke

and making a true effort

to be as vulgar as possible.

Honestly making an effort.

I hadn't told anyone

I was a skier

and it was hard not to

laugh when Dean said...

Anyone ever teach you

how to f***in' hurry?

No.

-What are those?

-Bagels.

-Are these from Bluebell?

-Yeah.

-It's on the way from my house.

-Seriously?

You might as well have stopped

at a f***in' homeless shelter.

You might as well

have walked into

a motherfucking homeless

shelter and said,

"I'd like a dozen bagels from

this homeless shelter, please!"

I do not eat bagels from

Blue f***ing bell, Molly,

because these are

poor people bagels!

From where would you like me to

get your bagels in the future?

Forget about the f***in' bagels.

-Done.

-Except smarten up.

-Got it.

-Hang on.

Like I said, the day started

by being about bagels.

But that would abruptly change.

My weekly poker game's

moved to the Cobra Lounge.

Tomorrow night and then

every Tuesday night.

You'll help run it.

Take these names

and numbers.

Tell 'em to bring 10 grand in

cash for the first buy-in,

the blinds are 50-100.

-And Molly.

-Yeah?

Don't f***in' tell anybody.

I'd regarded Dean as a nitwit

when I regarded him at all.

But on that pad were nine names

along with phone numbers

of some of the most wealthiest and

most famous people in the world.

I put the numbers in my phone

and composed a simple message.

There'd be a game tomorrow

night at the Cobra Lounge,

there was a $10,000 buy-in.

All nine players confirmed

that they'd be there.

All withing 90 seconds

of my sending the text.

The Cobra Lounge sits on the

edge of the Sunset Strip.

And in its heyday was famous

for introducing unknown bands

like The Doors

and The Beach Boys.

All I knew was

schoolwork and skiing.

I'd always figured

sophistication

would be easy to learn

if I ever needed it.

My cheese platter had

a sticker that read,

"Cheese:
From the Great

State of Michigan."

Diego, a professional dealer,

was setting up the table

when I got there.

I Googled,

"What type of music do poker

players like to listen to?"

And then tried to figure

out how to make a playlist

out one Kenny Rogers song.

I set up the bar,

put out my cheese platter

and positioned

myself at the door

where I'd been instructed to only

let in the names on the list.

I was wearing my best dress,

which I'd bought two years

earlier at JC Penney for $88.

The players started to arrive.

I introduced myself as Molly,

-Dean's assistant.

-For you.

Asked if I could

get them a drink,

and took from each

of them $10,000 in cash.

-Hi.

-Hi.

I'm...

I know.

-Everybody here?

-Yeah.

Hey, buddy.

F*** off.

I'm gonna own your sh*t.

Ugly dress. Ugly shoes.

Let's play!

Diego fanned nine cards

out on the table

and the players chose for seats.

-11 and 11.

I'd just finished counting

out $90,000 in cash.

I was in a room

with movie stars,

directors,

And the award goes to...

rappers,

-boxers,

-Oh! he's in trouble!

and business titans.

They were going

all-in all the time,

burning through their

buy-ins over and over.

-There you go, good luck.

-Thank you so much.

I Googled every word

I heard that I didn't know.

Flop, river, fourth street,

tilt, cooler, boat, nuts,

-Yeah, he's pot committed.

-playing the rush...

You keeping track

of the buy-ins?

-Yeah.

-Where? Where's the paper?

Spreadsheet.

Ray's all in.

Get him, motherf***er!

All in.

The game ended at 3:30.

And when it did,

that's when Dean shouted out--

Hey! Tip Molly if you want to

get invited back next week.

"Tip Molly."

Deep down I didn't like

the sound of that.

Thank you so much.

Deep down I knew that

when your boss says,

-And Molly.

-Yeah.

Don't f***in' tell anybody.

that's usually not the beginning

of a promising law career.

See you next week.

But that was deep down.

I'd just made $3,000.

What are you reading?

The Crucible.

For school?

My father assigned it.

Do you know how many witches

were burned in Salem?

-How many?

-None.

They didn't burn witches,

it's a myth. They hanged them.

Or drowned them or crushed

them with heavy rocks.

Wait, aren't--

You're Molly Bloom, right?

Yeah.

You don't look the same

as in your photos.

None of us do.

-Molly?

-Yes.

Charlie Jaffey.

Thank you again for

seeing me so early.

-This is my daughter, Stella.

-We met.

Isabel will be here in 45 minutes

to take you to school.

-Finish your math?

-Yeah.

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