They got the pocket rockets. Looks, money, brains, athleticism, connections--a pair of aces right from birth. It was easy for them to play it straight... to be the Golden Boy, the hero.What about the guy with the deuces? What was he supposed to do--toss them in the gutter, push all his chips over to the Golden Boy and smile as the fucker walked off with the pot and a chick on each arm, because that's how it was supposed to be? Fuck that. The guys with the deuces, or the five-two-offs, weren't. She looked earnestly towards the beach. "And over the next few weeks, my team will be hoping to find evidence of those legends." She strode purposefully out of the water and on to the scorching sand to join the small group of women assembled there.As she reached them, one of them, holding a video camera, stood up. "Great, Bethany, great!" she called out. "That will be fine."Bethany looked sceptical. "Maybe," she said. "We can always redo it if we have to. I just wish we could get on with the. More

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