Chapter Twenty-Five
Marshall
“Remind me again why we’re doing this?” asked Sean as he climbed into my car. It was the end of the day, and we were leaving the lumberyard. A cloudy and still afternoon was rapidly giving way to a dusky twilight.
“Because I think we could make a considerable amount of money by the end of the night.” We were on our way to the Celtic Knot, where according to Mr. Wood, a group of experienced poker players met on Wednesday nights. “And I think it would be fantastic practice. It’s been a while since I’ve played against anyone whose skills were the equal of mine, and I want to make sure I’m not losing my edge.”
“If they live here, they’re probably not going to be as good as you,” said Sean. “If you want to measure your skills before the invitational, I recommend doing it in Vegas. Everyone here plays recreationally.”
“Well, I think we ought to go check it out, anyway. Worst-case scenario, we lose the match, and somebody else goes home with a few thousand dollars.”
“True, but they’ll be going home with some of our money,” he pointed out.
I was getting irritated by Sean’s incessant warnings. “Look, do you want to go or not?”
He stared at me for a moment, as if not used to hearing me raise my voice. “Yeah, I’ll go. I don’t have anything else going on tonight, and it beats sitting at home watching Deadliest Catch on the Discovery Channel.”
I started up the car. “Okay, but if I hear one more complaint out of you, I’m turning this car around.”
“Yes, Mom.”
We reached the Celtic Knot and, after some searching, found a flight of wood-paneled stairs leading into a dingy basement. “Freebird” was playing from a pair of speakers at the back of the room where a circular table had been set up. Five or six guys were seated there, their faces obscured by shadows.
Sean paused on our way in. “I think I want another one of those Scottish salmon. Do you want me to order you anything?”
It took me a second to remember what was on the menu; it felt like ages since we had last been here. “Get me the bacon cheese rarebit, a spinach artichoke pizza, and a soda—Mr. Pibb if they have it, Sprite if they don’t.”
“You sure you don’t want a beer or something?”
I shook my head. “I need to keep my wits about me.”
Sean left, and I continued on my way toward the back of the room but froze as I neared the table. Our old friend Tom was seated at the far end, shuffling a deck and smiling ominously. Next to him sat River, looking as muscled and hairless as ever.
Not wanting to stay here a second longer than I had to, I turned to leave. But as I did, Tom spoke up. “Where are you headed so fast? You’ve only just arrived.”
“I n-need to go check on my order,” I said faintly. There weren’t many things that could scare me, but the sing-song tone of his voice, down there in that dark and mostly empty room, gave me chills.
“It’s funny,” he said, “because if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were scared of us.”
I shook my head, struggling hard to swallow. My face and hands were beady with perspiration.
“Are you a girl?” he asked. “You must be a girl, ‘cause only girls are scared of us.”
“You know very well I’m not,” I replied, trying to sound menacing but failing badly.
“Why don’t you sit down?” asked Tom. The hulking shadow of River stood up beside him. “You ought to at least wait until you hear what the pool is tonight.” When I didn’t respond, he said, “River, you want to tell him what the pool is?”
“One hundred thousand dollars,” said River.
“You couldn’t say no to that, could you? Not even a scared little girl like you?”
I probably should have walked away then, or at least made the attempt, but at that point, I wasn’t thinking rationally. I was so mad at him for calling me a girl, and the memories of our last fight were still fresh in my mind.
While I stood a few paces from the table, still hesitating, the door leading into the basement opened again, and Sean crept back down. “Hey, what are you just standing around for—oh, hello.”
He let out a low whistle as the reality of our dilemma sank in. If we stayed and played the game, they might hurt us; if we tried to leave now, they almost certainly would. As if to prevent that from happening, River rose and moved toward the door, his broad back blocking out the light like the moon in eclipse.
“How are we going to get out of this?” Sean whispered.
“I don’t think we have a choice. They’re not going to let us go until we’ve agreed to play.”
“And then what? Are they going to knife us in a dark alley and take all our money? I almost think we would be better off losing.”
“But have you heard how much money is on the table?” I told him.
Sean, however, remained unconvinced. “Playing with these guys, though? I don’t know if it’s worth it.”
Tom began tapping his foot with impatience. “Are you two ladies almost done chatting? We’ve got a game to play here, and I don’t have all night.”
I turned to the doorway, where River stood with his arms folded glaring down at us. The door opened, and the waiter appeared with our plates. River let him past; but when Sean tried to follow him out, River placed himself in front of the door and shook his head.
“I guess we really don’t have a choice,” said Sean. “He’s not going to let us go.”
“The game is starting,” called Tom, producing a pocket watch from his shirt pocket, “in ten… nine…”
Reluctantly, we sat down together at the opposite end of the table.
***
For some time, there was silence in the room, broken only by the ticking of a large clock hanging above a filing cabinet. The air held a pungent odor of peanut shells and sawdust; even breathing it made me thirsty. I stared longingly at my pizza, wanting to eat it but not daring to set my cards down even for a moment.
Sean sat morosely beside me. He groaned once or twice as he examined his hand, and I could tell he wished he had stayed home watching the Discovery Channel.
“‘The long day wanes,’” said Tom. “‘The slow moon climbs, the deep moans round with many voices. Come, my friends, ‘tis not too late to seek a newer world.’” Placing his cards close to his chest, he added, “Do you know what that’s from? It’s from a poem named ‘Ulysses’ by a man named Alfred Tennyson.”
“What of it?” I asked.
“It’s a very moving portrait of aging and the loss of one’s powers. We’re not as strong as we used to be. Every day our faculties are declining.”
“He’s trying to trip you up,” whispered Sean. “Don’t listen!”
“Every lapse in your memory is a reminder that you’re not young anymore. Look at us both, getting to be in our thirties. Soon, we’ll be forty, and soon we’ll be dead. We used to be able to stay out late. But we can’t anymore. We used to be able to do so much.”
“What’s your point?” I asked again, my temper flaring.
“The point is, I may not have it in me to win one last game,” said Tom. He laid out his cards on the table. “Then again, I just might.”
The rest of the men crowded around to look and broke into a chorus of joyful exclamations. He had laid out four queens, all in the same rank, and an ace.
The others turned to me to see how I would react.
“Impressive,” I said, feeling rattled but trying hard not to show it. I couldn’t shake the feeling that regardless of whether I won or lost, I wasn’t going home with the money. I spread my own cards out on the table. “If only it were just a bit better.”
This time it was Sean’s turn to cheer. I had laid out five jacks, all in the same suit. The money was ours, the whole hundred thousand dollars. Tom let out an oath and slumped back in defeat. In spite of his best attempts to scare and distract me, I had beaten him.
“I suppose I ought to congratulate you,” he said grudgingly. “Go on, get out of here! The money’s yours. Every last cent. You played the man, and you won.”
River reached behind the filing cabinet and pulled out a sleek suitcase. I opened it. All the money was there, piled neatly in bundles of ten thousand. Sean pulled out one of the stacks and examined it. There was no trick. We were about to leave the pub an order of magnitude richer than when we’d arrived.
An uneasy silence fell over the room as Sean took the suitcase in hand. I could feel the eyes of the other guys on us, their expressions ranging from reluctant approval to quiet rage. “Let’s go,” I whispered to Sean. The sooner we got out of here, the better.
“Be sure and come back some time,” said Tom cheerfully. “It would be a pleasure to play you again.”
I didn’t respond, and neither did Sean. We were already beating a hasty retreat. It only occurred to me on my way out the door that I hadn’t touched a bite of my pizza.
It wasn’t until we made it outside into the warm, damp parking lot that I was able to breathe again.
“We did it,” said Sean slowly. “You did it.”
“You act so surprised.”
“I thought there was going to be some trick. I guess not everyone is as skilled at sleight of hand as you are. Is that how you did it?”
I shook my head. “No, I won the game honestly—no tricks or deceit. If I had tried anything, I’m pretty sure those guys would have murdered me. I wasn’t about to take any chances.”
Hearing the crunch of boots on the pavement, I turned around. A shadowy figure was rapidly approaching in the darkness, gliding on eager feet. It was River, and his associates were bearing down on us from all directions. They must have left the pub by different routes, hoping to catch us before we could get away.
Sean swore loudly.
“Get in the car!” I shouted, breaking into a run. Sean followed my lead, but he was too hasty and tripped over his own feet. The suitcase went flying into the street.
Undaunted, he crawled toward it, grasping in desperation like a fish on dry land. But just as he reached it, a boot came thudding down out of the darkness. River’s laugh echoed through the parking lot.
“If you think you’re walking away with our money,” muttered Sean, “you’re a bigger fool than I thought.”
River raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Really? And who, pray tell, is going to stop me?”
He kicked Sean hard in the chest. Sean winced and rolled over, arms folded over his ribs. Outraged, I ran toward him, but hadn’t run more than a few feet before my arms were pinned by two strong arms. I kicked and thrashed against my captor, but his grip was simply too powerful.
“The thing you have to learn about playing with us,” said River, casually strolling forward until he faced me, “is that one way or another, we always win.”
“You don’t win!” I shouted, lunging at him in vain. “You’re a cheat and a bully. You’re not good enough to win on your own merits, so you steal and destroy just like the devil does!”
But I said no more, for at that moment I felt the blunt force of a hand on the back of my head, and all went dark.