Chapter 5
STILL BUZZING, I TOOK myself back to the bar and ordered a bourbon. I was about to pay for it when I remembered the comp coupons. In the bottom of the heavy tumbler, the bourbon swirled, dark caramel with gold and amber ripples. With a long, slow sniff of the dark, caramel fumes, my eyes closed and I took a sip from the heavy glass.
As the smoky spirit ignited on my tongue and tipped down to scorch my throat, I breathed deeply. Soon enough I could count the chips. The tally in my head made it about four thousand six hundred and some dollars. From a stake of fifteen bucks. Unbelievable.
But still a little under half way to what I needed. My muscles ached like I’d been running. I was exhilarated but weary. The half-dozen hands of poker had really drained me. There’s a reason they don’t have clocks or windows in these places, I thought. You lose yourself. You get carried away. Get careless.
If I go back into the poker room tonight, I thought, I’d be sure to get tired and goofy. The kind of luck I’d had at the craps game wasn’t likely to come again, now or at any time. It wasn’t a massive win, but it was a solid run of luck, and they don’t come often.
As the heat of the bourbon stirred me inside, I decided that I’d had a successful night and ought to quit while I was well ahead. One day would not be enough to get it done, but I had made a good enough start. The suite that Hemming Garland had comped me came back to mind.
Joel came back into mind, too but then I saw the college boy hunched over a table in the corner. An idea began to form in my mind.
I picked up the tumbler and took it over to the college boy’s table.
His lip curled as he looked up. “Happy with your haul, or are you going back to ream out some other suckers?” He had a clear, musical voice that sounded like it came from money. I thought about the casino and the neighborhood it was in. If he came from money, he’s a long way from home, I thought.
I told him, “I came to buy you a drink.”
He raised an eyebrow, “So you can see my face up close while you gloat?” There was no edge in his voice. Only in the words.
“No, just so I could catch a hot blast of your attitude.”
“All my money’s not enough for you.”
“I doubt that was all of your money. You look like you could find some more if you had to.” I watched his face. “I wonder if all of it was yours, too. You have a backer?”
“Why, are you touting your services?”
“Okay, it’s been fun.” I turned on my heel.
“No, wait.” His lips pressed together. “I come off as a jerk sometimes.”
“When are the other times?”
“Can we start again, go back to where you were going to buy me a drink? I’m Fitz. Pleased to meet you. Won’t you join me.”
The waiter came and Fitz ordered a Gibson. The waiter’s eyebrows twitched. I wanted another bourbon, but I decided against it. I might need to keep my head clear if I was going to try and get sense out of this attitude in clothes.
By tonight’s showing, I reckoned that I had the head for poker, but I was sure that I didn’t have the stamina. To make what I needed, and without counting on strokes of luck, I figured it could take two to three hours of straight play. That was more than I could be confident of.
My idea was to bankroll Fitz. Steer him to a game where he could earn better, put up some stake money and share the winnings, But, would I ever be able to work with his attitude? I watched him. With a little coaching, I thought, Fitz could play profitably. We could split the profit. If I could trust him.
The waiter brought the Gibson. Whatever it was, it was clear in a tapered glass with a little white onion on a stick. Seriously, I wondered if I could stand that much time in his company. He sipped his drink. He hadn’t thanked me for the drink, or asked my name.
He said, “Well, are you going to use my money to bankroll me?”
I stood up. “It’s been real,” I told him,
“Okay, look,” he said, “Wait, alright? I don’t win all the popularity contests. I know it. Maybe we can help each other though.”
Still standing I said, “What have you got that I need?”
“Good question. There must be something otherwise you wouldn’t have come, right?” The impression of a smile wandered across his lips. It didn’t make him look a lot better.
“There was something,” I told him, “but you’re so damned disagreeable, I doubt you can take ‘yes’ for an answer.”
“Why would you want to bankroll me? What can I do that you can’t?” He rubbed his chin. “You don’t look like you scare easily, so I don’t think you’re looking for protection.”
I looked at his scrawny frame, “I’d be in a sorry state if I needed your protection.”
He didn’t miss a beat, “Probably so. If one of us was going to be the muscle, it would be you.”
“You must be fighting the ladies off night and day.”
That got to him and his face puckered, “I do alright.”
When you’ve got money, perhaps, I thought.
His finger tapped his chin, “It must be to do with you being a girl,” he said, “You’ll get more attention at the table than me. You want to be able to sit in the deal, work as a team, but with me making the plays.” He sat back and took a hit off his clear drink with the onion in it.
He was nowhere near the mark, but that was okay. If that was what he wanted to think, so be it. My doubts about dealing with him hadn’t gone. I wondered how he might respond to some advice.
I watched him think for a moment, then he said, “You going to give me my money back?”
“Some of it. Maybe. Not exactly ‘give,’ though.”
“I knew there’d be a catch.”
“Look, I didn’t make you go all in with a pair of nines.”
“Trips. Three nines. Do you know how dry that fucking table has been all night? Do you know how long it took me to work up the money that you just took off me?” Like it was my fault.
I told him, “I’ll give you this for free. You need to manage your bankroll a lot tighter. When you play tight you’re not tight enough, you bet too fast and too much. And when you’re aggressive you’re not strong enough and you’re reckless.”
“Oh, do you teach Sunday school, too, ma’am?”
“Well, it really has been fun.” I stood up to leave.
“Okay, let’s make a deal.” His voice had tightened and gone up a notch. “I’ll do it. You’re right, I don’t have a stake and I need to get back into the game.” Being reasonable didn’t come naturally to him.
“You’ve got no stake at all? You blew your wad?”
“Don’t grind it in.”
I said, “I’ll put up a grand.” His eyes brightened. I told him, “What you win we’ll split sixty-forty.” His eyebrows started to move so I got it in quickly, “I get the sixty.”
“Oh, wait up, that means I’m playing like an employee.”
“I can get out of your way so you can work with one of the other backers waiting in line here.”
He looked down. Spoke into his lap. “I’ve got obligations. I’ve got to get back what I lost tonight.”
“I’m sorry, Fitz, this isn’t going to work. Enjoy your drink and I hope you can work something out.” I stood. So did he. I shook his hand, but as I turned he tried not to let go.
I had to pull my hand away and I headed for the door. Fitz followed me. Half way there I stopped.
“Fitz, you’ve got problems to solve. So do I. They aren’t compatible.”
“You’re holding a lot more than a grand. We can both be doing a whole lot better is all I’m saying.”
“Sorry, Fitz. No.” And I left him there.