Stone Junction (25 page)

The next morning, they left for San Francisco. As Daniel drove, Bad Bobby analyzed the players and discussed the strategy of no-limit Lo-Ball freeze-out. It would be a full game, eight players. There were only two Bobby hadn’t gambled with before.

‘Clay Hormel is a movie producer, lots of bucks, and Hollywood all the way. You’ve seen the type in Vegas – silk shirt unbuttoned to his navel, six pounds of gold chain, sunlamp tan. He may know how to cut a movie deal, but he don’t cut shit as a card player. His ego’s as big as his bank account, and I figure they’ll both get flattened some in this game.

‘Charley Li is an old Chinese guy, over seventy now I’d guess. Knows Lo-Ball as well as anyone and can be double-tough if he catches a heater. I think he may be a little too conservative for this action, a tad too predictable. But he’s solid, and he’s a real gentleman.

‘There’s two guys I don’t know, but Stan gave me a line on their play. First guy’s named Paul Schubert, known as “Rainbow.” Gather he’s something of a hippie, one of these new-age types with the ponytail and turquoise. Stan says he’s about thirty years old, and he’s either pretty high up in some drug dealing or there’s bread in the family,’ cause he doesn’t play well enough for the roll he packs. He’s probably an action freak, a good example of what I warned you about. Can’t pass up a big pot and makes terrible calls. Which means he’s hard to bluff.

‘The other guy is Johnny “The Rake” Russo. I’ve never met him, but I’ve heard a lot about him. East Coast guy. Got his first stake together lagging quarters in the Bronx when he was twelve – that’s the line anyway. He’s not much older than you – twenty-one, around there – and seemingly deserves his rep for being double tough. He’s not afraid to put chips in the pot. Stan says he plays a lot like me when I was his age. That means he’ll be too aggressive on marginal hands, bluff in the wrong situations, and not pay enough attention to position.

‘Rupert Mildow is a middle-aged English gent down to his tweeds and walking stick. Everybody calls him ‘Limey,’ which he thinks is vulgar, which is why everybody calls him that. If he has a weakness, it might be he doesn’t trust his instincts, especially the killer one. But if you beat him, you’ve beat somebody. He’s good.

‘Guido, though, is probably the best. He’s tougher than a junkyard dog, and since he came up from the bottom, he loves the top. He’s part Mexican and part Italian. He comes on like he’s got stones the size of boulders – and he does – but he’s also got fire and finesse. He likes to give you this exaggerated Mexican bandito accent to annoy you and twang any latent racism. Likes to make you
want
to beat him. An uncanny ability to find your weakness and show it to you for lots of money. Probably the best psychological player I’ve ever seen. Pay attention to his play and don’t listen to his mouth.’

‘So, how does he play?’ Daniel said.

‘
Real
good.’

‘You’re overwhelming me with helpfulness.’

‘It’d be foolish to say more. Guido plays the players, the chemistry, the mood, the rush, and the moment as well as he plays his cards. I’ve beat him a few times, but if this ol’ Caddy was full of the money I’ve lost to him playing Lo-Ball, the axles would snap with the load.’

‘Does he play Stud or Hold-’Em? I mean, you’re supposedly the best around at those.’

‘Well,’ Bad Bobby said, ‘I got enough of it back that I still have the car.’ He gave the horn a long echoing blast as they passed through a grove of redwoods, then smiled contentedly as he watched the road unwind.

The players met Friday night in the lounge of Stan Wurlitzer’s cardroom to discuss rules and format. Except for Guido, everyone was there promptly at nine. He arrived twenty minutes late, accompanied by an entourage of four lovely young Chicanas, each in a white silk dress of alarming décolletage, and a thin choker of opals and pearls. The jewels were a proper complement to their skin, which had the sheen of melting caramel.

Daniel stared, remembered he was going to play Guido, not them, and shifted his attention with difficulty.

Guido was greeting the other players with gusto. He was a large man, well-bellied to the point of corpulence. His face was broad and swarthy, the cheeks slipping into jowls. It would have appeared frankly corrupt if not for Guido’s eyes, eyes the color and same hard gleam of obsidian. He was wearing a tuxedo and silk top hat. His cuff links were twenty-dollar gold pieces. Large diamonds sparkled from his wristwatch and rings.

When Stan Wurlitzer introduced him to Daniel, Guido frowned. ‘Mr Wurlitzer,’ he said playfully, ‘there ess a leetle boy in the lounge who has loss hees momma. You find her queek to lead thees young one to safety.’

Daniel, assuming that somehow Guido had heard about his mother’s death, said calmly, ‘Fuck you.’

‘So
bold!
’ Guido shouted, stumbling backward as if overwhelmed.

‘
Really
Guido,’ Rupert said dryly, ‘save it for the game.’

‘Ahhhh, but I can’t help it,’ Guido apologized. ‘I feel so
wonderful
thees evening. I jus feenish loving all my girlfriends and it makes me so happy to be there with them I am late being here weeth you. And you, young Daniel, I was only keeding, for I hear all over you are an
hombre
at the table, that even so young you already have the hairs on your ass and gallons of
conjones
. But’ – Guido’s booming voice dropped to a sad murmur – ‘I weel run over you like water runs over the lowlands.’

‘That’s why we’re playing,’ Daniel nodded, ‘to find out.’

‘Stanley,’ Rupert rolled his eyes, ‘may we proceed?’

The rules were standard: open or out in turn; checks could call on the second round but not raise; you had to bet a 7–6–5–4–3 or any hand lower. The format Stan suggested was likewise agreeable to all: rotating deal; a five-hundred-dollar ante to begin with, increasing as players went bust; a half-hour break every three hours and an hour every six, with twelve hours a day limit on playing time. Stan collected the stakes, each player except Guido counting a hundred grand off their rolls or presenting, in Rupert’s case, a cashier’s check.

Guido said disdainfully, ‘I do not soil my hands weeth cash or waste my time at the banks.’ He snapped his fingers: each of his beautiful young friends hiked her dress and removed a wad of bills from her garter. Guido, gnashing his teeth at the sight of their supple thighs, announced, ‘I tell you people, Guido Caramba weel not gamble money that has not known the warmth of a woman’s skeen. Now, eef our meeting ess done, I must take my friends here and return to my training. I weel see you
mañana
.’

‘You weeel indeed,’ Daniel murmured.

The players gathered in Stan’s cardroom just before noon. They cut cards for seats, going around the table in order of low cards. Daniel cut the Joker, a propitious sign, he felt. He couldn’t have been happier with the final positions if he’d deployed them himself. From Daniel’s left, taking their seats around the clean felt table behind one hundred thousand dollars stacked in black and gold chips, were Charley Li, Rupert, Johnny Russo, Clay Hormel, Paul Schubert, Guido, and Bad Bobby – which meant that Guido and Bobby, the two strongest players, would usually be acting before him.

There were already close to a hundred spectators seated well away from the table. Clay Hormel, perhaps to rattle Guido, had arrived with his own bevy of young starlets. Guido’s caramel-skinned beauties, still in bridal-white silk, sat behind him. Guido had added a black cape to his tuxedo.

Daniel whispered to Bad Bobby on his right, ‘Guido looks like a fat Dracula.’

Bad Bobby barely nodded, drawling, ‘Yeah, and he plays like a werewolf.’

They cut for the deal, Guido winning the honor with the ace of diamonds. Each player anted a black five-hundred-dollar chip, Guido shuffled, and ‘Rainbow’ Schubert cut the deck. Guido shut his eyes and lifted his face heavenward, solemnly intoning, ‘God, I ask You for mercy on their doomed asses,’ and dealt the first hand.

Daniel held a 9–8–6–5–3. When Bad Bobby passed, Daniel opened for four thousand. Charley Li, Rupert, and Johnny Russo passed.

‘Hell, I always play the first pot,’ Clay Hormel said, calling. ‘If you don’t win the first one you can’t win them all.’

‘I like your philosophy, man,’ Rainbow Schubert said, also calling.

Guido looked at his cards belligerently. ‘What ees thees? A full house? I play the wrong game. But I call anyway because maybe the poker gods weel get eet straightened out.’ He set four thousand-dollar gold chips into the pot. ‘Teekets?’ he inquired sweetly, burning the top card face down in the pot.

Daniel rapped the table softly, indicating he was pat.

‘Nooo!’ Guido wailed. ‘Please reconsider.’

Daniel said sharply, ‘No cards.’

Guido shrugged with hopeless fatality. ‘Are you also pat, Meester Hormel?’

‘Not now. Send three.’ He discarded and Guido dealt him three cards.

Rainbow Schubert drew one.

Guido set the deck down, capped it with a chip, and looked at his cards for nearly thirty seconds. Finally he said, ‘I can’t play thees mess. I have two aces, two deuces, and that funny leetle man riding the bumblebee with hees finger up hees ass.’ He smiled at Daniel, appealing, ‘Help me play my hand.’ Guido turned it over: two aces, two deuces, and the joker.

Obviously he would draw two cards to ace, deuce, joker. Daniel suggested mildly, ‘Throw away your two pair and draw to the joker.’

Guido looked at Daniel with implacable fury. ‘I tell you sometheeng right now, my young one. You can fuck weeth Guido’s money because Guido, being a happy man, does not care about money. You can play weeth Guido’s wimmens because Guido, being a generous man, would never deny you their immense pleasures.
But!
’ he thundered, dramatically isolating the contradiction, ‘you
cannot
fuck weeth Guido’s
mind!
’ His voice softened to a reflective murmur. ‘You cannot fuck weeth Guido’s mind because Guido has no mind. He feed it to hees guts thirty years ago starving in Tijuana.’

‘I was just trying to be helpful,’ Daniel said, acting vaguely hurt that his intentions could possibly be misunderstood.

‘I will take
two
cards,’ Guido decided, discarding and drawing.

Daniel was slightly worried, not by Guido’s mouth, but his hand. Though a pat nine was the favorite against any two-card draw, ace-deuce-joker was the best two-card draw in the game. Daniel bet another four thousand, not a strong bet, but better than checking, since they would know he didn’t have a seven or lower.

Clay Hormel and Rainbow folded. Guido was squeezing out a peek at his draw. ‘Ah,’ he beamed, ‘a
stranger
. Look, I don’t lie.’ He laid down ace–deuce–joker–four, keeping the last card hidden.

Six cards will beat me
, Daniel calculated,
seven won’t. Damn near down
to even money
. He watched Guido’s eyes as he tipped the fifth card for a look. They glittered with excitement.

‘Yaaaaasss,’ Guido shrilled, ‘
hello
leetle seex!’ He glared at Daniel. ‘I call your puny bet and raise whole handfuls.’ Guido pushed in the ninety-six thousand dollars he had remaining.

Daniel looked at his hand again. It hadn’t changed. The odds slightly favored him, but it was far too early to risk it all on what he held. ‘Take the pot,’ he told Guido, folding his cards face down.

Guido glowed. ‘I don’t bullsheet you. I make a hand.’ He turned over his last card, the ace of hearts. He’d paired aces. ‘See? Two ace, three counting the joker.’ Suddenly he looked worried. ‘
Three ace?
No, I forget again!’ He slapped himself lightly on the side of the head. ‘Guido, you dumb one, wake up! Eet ees
Lo-Ball!
But,’ he quickly forgave himself, ‘take the cheeps anyhow.’

Next to Daniel, Bobby asked softly, ‘Rough eight or nine?’

‘Yup.’

‘You played it right. No need to risk it all early on a slim edge.’

‘That’s why I laid it down,’ Daniel said curtly.

‘Don’t let him get in you, now,’ Bobby warned, gathering the cards to deal.

Clay Hormel was the first to go broke, calling a raise from Rupert before the draw and then, when Rupert rapped pat, drawing two cards. When Rupert checked to him, he’d foolishly tried to bluff a pair of fives with his remaining twenty thousand. Rupert called immediately with his 8–4–3–2–1, and Clay sheepishly joined his flock of starlets on the sidelines.

The next few hours moved slowly. Daniel played conservatively, paying careful attention to position. He was down to sixty thousand when he realized the thousand-dollar antes were beginning to dent his stack. He began to open pots for ten thousand, trying to win the antes. At the end of five hours he was nearly back to even, as were most of the remaining players except Guido and Rupert, who each had about a hundred seventy-five thousand, and Charley Li, down to fifty thousand, his cautious play eating up his antes. Charley realized it too late, began playing catch-up hands, and steadily went broke. Daniel took Charley’s last eight thousand, making an eight against Charley’s pat nine.

Rainbow Schubert went broke ten minutes later. He’d reraised Bobby with a pat 10–9–8–2–1 before the draw. Bobby had only called, then rapped pat. That put the pressure on Rainbow, who after toying with his turquoise bracelet and tugging on his ponytail, finally threw away the 10–9–8 and drew three, catching a 9–4–3. When Bad Bobby uncharacteristically checked, showing weakness by not betting into a three-card draw, Rainbow bet the twenty-five thousand he had left. Bad Bobby called with his 8–5, springing the trap.

As the next hand was dealt, Bobby told Daniel, ‘I owe you a grand.’

Daniel gave him a quizzical look.

Bobby explained, ‘You weren’t the third player eliminated.’

‘That’s right,’ Daniel said. He’d forgotten the side bets.

The action picked up as each of the five remaining players looked for an edge. Though there were a few good pots, the hands broke close to even. As they approached midnight and the end of the first day, Daniel, Bobby, Guido, and Johnny Russo all had about a hundred eighty thousand with Rupert down to eighty grand.