Real Magic (6 page)

"That's no way to talk to one of your best regulars. Why I have a mind to —"

"When you settle your tab, then you can order drinks for your friends."

Duncan waved a hand between the two men. "It's okay. I've got it."

Vincent took his scotch with a scowl. To Duncan, he smiled and tipped his glass. "To you, sir. Already a true friend."

As he sipped his second Manhattan, careful not to make the same drinking mistake twice, Duncan wondered how old Vincent might be. He found it difficult to judge with everyone wearing suits. A young man looked much older when not dressed like a college bum. Vincent was young, that much was certain, but how young — how naïve — was the real question? After all, no matter how Duncan thought of Vincent, he had one objective. A guy like Vincent might make a good contributor to the Get Duncan Home fund.

Leaning into the bar, Duncan gestured for Joey to come close. In a low voice, he asked, "You wouldn't happen to know where a man might find a good card game, would you?" Duncan figured that bartenders were bartenders in any age. They knew all the local secrets.

Joey shook his head. "Sorry, pal. We only run a legitimate business here." He never looked at Duncan while he spoke. He kept eying Vincent.

When Duncan turned to his new friend, Vincent wore a big smile. "Cards, is it? Why I might know a few things or two about cards."

"I don't have much, but I'm hoping for a little fun and little luck."

Vincent slid one barstool closer. "Well, pal, you've got the luck part down. You met me. As for the fun — stick with me and I'll show you a great time. What kind of cards you like to play?"

"Anything, I suppose. Poker is always a good one, right?"

Vincent's shark smile nearly chomped a bite. "Then poker it is. Come with me. I'll get you in a game. You got five bucks?"

"Not quite."

Vincent dismissed the whole thing with a wave of his hand. "Don't worry about it. You pay in what you can and you owe the rest."

"You'll let me do that?"

"Heck, half the guys I know can't pay the buy in. Who's got five bucks to burn, right? So, you buy-in on credit. As long as you got something to put up for collateral, you'll be fine."

Duncan felt around his pockets. Other than the little cash he had, he couldn't find anything. He checked his wrists — no watch.

Vincent laughed. "You sure you want to play poker? You don't seem too bright."

"I'm sure I've got something we can use."

"I'm sure, too," Vincent said, and placed his hand firmly on top of Duncan's head — Duncan's covered head.

"This'll be enough?" Duncan asked, taking off his fedora.

"Of course. Every man wants a new hat. Nobody'll mind taking it from you if you lose. So, whadya say?"

Duncan shrugged weakly and hid his own shark smile deep inside. "I say that it's time to play a little poker."

 

Everything changes.

Nothing changes.

When he stepped into the small, smoke-filled room, Duncan couldn't decide which was true. Perhaps both at the same time.

Two men, cigarettes dangling from their mouths, crowded a round table with a green felt cloth. They kept their hats on but had them tilted back. Their coats hung over the backs of their chairs. One of the men had a pencil-thin mustache and pock-marked cheeks. The other guy was a square-jawed package of muscle with a boxer's nose. A pretty girl dressed sharp and with a fur shawl also sat at the table.

Might as well be Peyter and the boys.

Vincent had led the way here (two blocks up and one block over) as if he had been this way a thousand times. That could be good or bad for Duncan. A regular game might mean less money, especially during The Great Depression, but three "pals" would have their guards down.

Nothing to do but make the best of it.

The girl saw them first. "I'll leave you boys to your games," she said and kissed the big guy. Squeezing by Duncan, she gave him a wink.

"Don't get any ideas," the big guy said. "She's mine."

"She's anybody's for a price," the thin guy said with a chuckle.

The big guy shrugged. "Well, I'm paying, so she's mine tonight."

The thin guy laughed until he started coughing. Vincent laughed as well, so Duncan joined in as they sat at the table.

Vincent pointed to the big guy. "This is Freddie. And that's Sammy. Gentleman, this here is Duncan Rose. Duncan and I are a bit short on the entry fee."

"How short?" Sammy snapped.

Duncan put out all his cash. "I got four dollars."

Before he had finished speaking, the money vanished and a stack of chips made its way in front of him. Sammy opened a deck of cards and started shuffling. He nodded at Vincent. "What about you?"
"Aw, you know me. I'm good for it."

"You owe me five from last week's game."

Freddie leaned on the table. "And five from the week before when Sammy was sick."

Vincent opened up a friendly smile. "Can I help it if you guys keep cleaning me out?"

"You ain't provided us nothing to clean out."

"Okay, okay," Vincent said with placating hands. "I just thought my pal Duncan here would enjoy the game. He's not played much poker before, and you guys are usually so sporting. But I understand. Come on, Duncan. Cash in and we'll go find another game."

"Now hold on," Sammy said. "There's no reason to get all huffy. We're all friends here." Before Duncan had a chance to react, before he could even decide whether it would be advantageous to go along with or correct Vincent's assessment of his abilities, Sammy had a stack of chips out in front of Vincent.

And with that, they dealt the first hand.

Duncan played honest hands for the first few rounds, keeping his attention on all the information he could glean about his three opponents. Sammy was the easiest to read — full of tells and nervous energy. Freddie played a harder game. His stoic face and steady body posture gave away little. Vincent was impossible. He acted inconsistently — full of exuberance one moment, quiet and serious the next. He distracted easily and spoke non-stop the whole time. And when the cards laid down, his hands never correlated with his behavior in any repetitive pattern.

Nobody appeared to be dangerous, though, and that was the real reason for watching them. Tells are nice to know but unnecessary when one planned to cheat. Duncan's only real concern was Freddie. Sammy and Vincent didn't look like fighters, but Freddie could hold his own, no doubt.

Since Vincent had done a fine job of setting up Duncan as a novice, Duncan decided to play a game of beginner's luck. He'd cheat more often than usual and feign ignorance as to how he even won a few of the hands. Most people would chalk up the extra winnings to beginner's luck and none would be suspicious.

He kept the cheats rather simple. Holding an ace on the bottom of the deck for use whenever he wanted it. Stacking the deck to favor his hand but not worrying about what the other's received. Nothing too flashy. Nothing too big.

An hour into the game, Freddie stretched his arms. "I'm tired of beer. How about a shot of whiskey?"

Duncan wanted to decline — getting drunk would impair his abilities — but nobody took the time to even answer the question. Sammy simply produced four shot glasses and poured the drinks. "Your health," he said and tipped back his drink. Vincent and Freddie followed.

"Bottoms up," Duncan muttered to himself and drank. The whiskey hit hard and warm. The other men barely seemed to register that they had any alcohol in their system. Duncan shook his head. The tolerance of the 1930s man was astounding.

Another hour of play passed and Duncan had raked in fifteen dollars. He still had no firm grasp of what to expect when it came to prices, but he suspected fifteen dollars would be considered a good haul for a night. Not enough to live off of for long, but a good start.

A harsh bell rang from behind Freddie. The big guy reached back and brought around a phone. The old kind. The ancient kind. A black contraption that looked like a tube with a flared mouthpiece on top. A separate ear piece attached to the base with a cord. Freddie put the ear piece to his ear and brought the rest of the phone close to his mouth.

"Hello?" Freddie said in a louder than normal voice. "Yeah, Boss. Just playing poker."

Sammy turned to Vincent and tipped his head to the door.

"Come on," Vincent said to Duncan. "Break time."

They walked down a narrow hall and into an alley. The cool night air felt refreshing after all the smoke. Duncan took a deep breath and had no trouble ignoring the sour odors of trash.

Vincent lit up a cigarette and kicked away a rock. "You know, you're gonna get caught."

"What?" Duncan asked, his nerves igniting.

"Don't get me wrong. You've got excellent card control. Even if they were wise to you, they wouldn't see a thing. But I caught it. You're a bit slow dealing seconds, and how many more times are you gonna hold a bottom ace tonight? Now, don't worry. They don't suspect a thing. But they ain't stupid either. You keep being as greedy as you're doing, and they'll spend the night thinking over the whole game, trying to figure out how they lost so much money in one night."

Duncan hated to do it, but he had to bargain his way out of this. If they had been playing a cash game, he could have run, but all he had in his pocket was fifteen dollars in chips. Of course, bargain was the polite way to say what really was happening — he was being shaken down.

"How much?" Duncan asked.

"Excuse me?"

"You stay quiet, and I'll cut you in on some of my winnings. How much you want?"

Vincent lifted his hat and patted back his hair. "You don't get it." He pulled a deck of cards from his coat pocket. He proceeded to false shuffle, stack and re-stack, control aces, and display all manner of card control. With a sly smile, he said, "I've been working these guys for a long time. Losing on purpose week after week. Tonight is when I planned to strike."

"And you wanted to use me as cover."

"Exactly. If I won big tonight with a novice playing, they'd figure I got lucky or that you screwed up the flow of cards or some other malarkey like that." Vincent glanced up and down the alley, then moved in close to Duncan. "It ain't too late. You've had a good run with your beginner's luck, but any more and we're done. You give me a little trust, and we both can clean up tonight. I mean really clean up, not the little bit you've got now. So, the big question is: will you trust me?" Vincent put out his hand and waited.

"I have to admit," Duncan said as he shook Vincent's hand, "you're really surprising me. That doesn't happen often."

"I could say the same about you. In fact, I think I just did." Vincent checked his watch, then opened the door. "When we go back in, you watch carefully and be ready. And don't do anything until you understand what's going on. Okay?"

"Tell me the play now."

"No time. We don't get back there, they'll get suspicious."

Duncan went back in, his head spinning at the change in Vincent. He wanted to pause the world and find out all he could about this man who had caught his cheats. But he had a big job to do now. Playing the straight man in a two-person cheat can be difficult, especially after all the hours already played. He had to pretend nothing had changed, that his relationship with Vincent had not changed, that though everything had changed, nothing had changed.

At the same time, he had to watch Vincent carefully without being obvious. And as the hands were dealt, Duncan couldn't believe what he saw. Every time Vincent pulled in the cards to deal, he dropped a card to his lap. An Ace, a King, a Ten. It was so smooth, Duncan failed to catch it at first. And he knew deep in his heart that he would never have caught it had he not been told to look for it. In fact, he felt pretty sure that Vincent had slowed slightly to aid Duncan in catching the move.

Two rounds of cards didn't reveal what he was looking for, but after another five rounds had passed, Vincent had dropped a Heart straight flush into his lap one card at a time. Freddie and Sammy never suspected that they were playing rounds missing cards, especially because they kept winning. Whenever Duncan or Vincent had a winning hand, they folded. Whenever Duncan had a Heart to help, he made sure to get it close to Vincent.

When the deal fell to Duncan, he glanced at Vincent and received a slight nod. This was it. He dealt out the cards.

Vincent put in a minimum. The others followed but Duncan raised. The bet got called and they did a round of card exchanges. So far, all played honestly. But now came the crucial moment, and Duncan knew he had to be the misdirection.

He turned his body to face Sammy. "I really like your hat."

Sammy raised an eyebrow, took off his hat, and inspected it. "This thing?"

Freddie pointed to a tear in the back. "That's a piece of crap." He then took of his hat and tossed it to Duncan. "Try that one."

Duncan made a production of trying on the hat. "It is nice."

"I know."