Michelangelo’s Pizza - 4:13 P.M.
Pregame meal, the best slice in town. I get to enjoy a little more time with D’Arcy before I have to get my game face on. I’ve learned well how to purge any real emotion. It’s an essential skill, as much in life as at the table. Adapt to survive, as the old adage goes. But that comes later. Right now, I have my defenses up in another right. I’m not quite sure what we’re doing here with her. After the last false start we had, it took a long time to quell the awkwardness between us.
I’m still processing what Monaco told me less than an hour ago. If my contract really is up and my debt paid, I don’t think I’ll be hanging around here. I’ve seen too much and done too much in this town. More importantly, too much has been done to me in this place. I need to get through tonight and then take tomorrow to think about it all. I can’t let her think we’re leading into something just yet. I couldn’t forgive myself if I led her on. Not that I’m big on self-forgiveness in the first place. For now I’ll just have to be as vague as possible. Grinders like me are adept at that, we can talk to you all day about anything and everything but at the same time you’re really getting nothing at all. I love the way she looks at me when she has a question for me. That hesitation, the way she nonchalantly plays with her hair, the way she seems to be looking away, yet those enchanting pools of emerald follow me. She really knows how to work what she has, and does in in such a manner that leaves you wondering if she’s doing it on purpose or not. Finally she comes out with it. “You know, I never have heard the story. Just how did Jim get a nickname like that?” I’ve known Easy Money for quite some time. “That tag started back when I was hosting a lot of $20 buy in home games out in Bellevue.” I miss those simple days. A third floor, two room apartment developed quickly into a studio dwelling with a nice poker room attached. That tiny hole out on the west side of town played host to some great nights of friendly cards before life became so cutthroat. Ever one for a good story, she was all ears. “Hmm….Do tell.” After a few years behind that bar, I’m sure she could probably write a pretty interesting book with all the tales she’s heard. “It was the first time I’d ever met him, Crowe brought him to the game.” Poker is like that. It seems now that ninety to ninety five percent of my friends are guys and girls I’ve met at the table. “It didn’t take long to figure out that he hadn’t played much at all.” “Why‘s that?” She inquires with a puzzled look. Lately she’s been asking me about cards here and there. Corner Bar has picked up on the whole bar poker scene, and she’s wanted to sit in and learn. “It was a laid back night playing five handed. There were three who saw the hand to the flop, and Jim had become very quiet after seeing his hole cards.” I’m not saying that the guy talks too much, just that he never fails to hold up his part of the conversation. “You see, when someone is very talkative at the table and then goes silent, either he’s just taken a bad beat or has a pretty rock solid hand, at least in his mind.” Some tells are stronger than others, but this one stands true nine times out of ten with newbies. “It’s been so long ago that I can’t even remember what came out on the flop, I only remember the off-balance sound in his voice as he announces all in and slams his cards down face up on the table.” “What’s wrong with that?” she asks, looking at me quizzically. “I’ve seen that done many times.” “Well” I tell her “That’s all well and good, but not when there are still two players yet to act behind you.” At this point, she can’t hold back her laughter. “Nice! That’s a rookie move that even I know better than.” I love to watch the way her eyes dance when she laughs. I have to be careful, though. The last time I was drawn in by enchanting eyes and a seemingly innocent demeanor, it cost me everything. “I would hope so. I took a second to survey the board and his hand before calling, what I didn’t expect was the call behind me. I couldn’t even tell you what Jim’s hand was, but let’s just that say it was third best. Needless to say, we’ve never let him forget that night, and he’s been known as Easy ever since.” There were five of us there that night, but I know at least twenty guys who tell the story as if they were there. That’s how it goes with good lore, I guess. Amused with my story, she gives me a that little wink. “Awesomeness, it makes sense now.” The conversation goes on flawlessly; it always does with her. I look up from her to see the door open and my stomach sinks before I even hear him call in on the radio. “One nineteen to central, I’ll be code ten on Elliston” he says into the mic on his shoulder and I hear the crackle of a ten four in reply. He looks in my direction and I calmly nod a friendly acknowledgement which he returns. At least this one doesn’t know me, but I can’t stick around. Cops rarely take meal break alone, so I need to be leaving before more show up. I might not be so lucky with the rest of them. I haven’t done anything, but I don’t have time tonight to be detained as a ‘person of interest’ in whatever they can come up with. That’s a nice blanket term for hauling your ass in and asking a bunch of questions hoping to shake something loose. The officers that would recognize me know I’m clean, but there’s no shortage of baggage that comes along with being a known acquaintance of half of the shit bags in Metro. In a hollow show to make an excuse to leave, I pull out my phone to check the time. Seriously, who wears a watch anymore? I give it a glance and then look through the window into the bright spring day. “It’s a nice out this afternoon, care for an after dinner mint?” I ask, tapping my lighter on the table. I actually would like a smoke, but I really just want to get the hell out of here. She catches my drift and we take our leave into the alley that separates Mike’s and the bar from the two story storefront that lies adjacent. Together we make our way up the stairs to the tobacco shop on the second floor. There’s a small patio out front with a couple of chairs. I can think of worse ways to spend some time. She sits and I light her cigarette before going in to pick out a few sticks. As any aficionado will tell you, you don’t just walk into the humidor, grab and go. I put more care and consideration into picking out a smoke than I do a woman. One of the two has never let me down; I’ll let you draw your own conclusion as to which is which. The subtle differences have a huge impact on taste. Myself, The first thing I look for is a dark outer leaf. Maduros carry a rich, full flavor and can pack a little punch. A brief inspection to make sure there are no veins in the wrapper leaf and then you give it a light squeeze. You’re looking for a little spring and no crunch. If the cigar is too stiff, it will have a tight draw that’ll make you feel like you’re going to have an aneurism while trying to pull smoke through it. If you hear a crackle, it means the stogie is dried out and can have a harsh burn. My phone has been buzzing intermittently during our dinner exchange as the texts roll in from players, some in and the rest out. Some give an excuse for not being able to make it, like I give a damn. Most of these guys aren’t friends; I view them more as business contacts, or maybe sources of income would be more to the point. But now I feel the vibration of an incoming call. I look at my phone to see who it is. “Hey Alvin. You’re in tonight, right?” I ask as I take my seat on the patio. “What can I say?” he replies as I hear the sound a couple of fingers slapping his bare forearm. It’s an inside joke between the two of us, the action of a junkie trying to find a vein. He’s the only guy I know whose addiction to the felt is as overwhelming as mine. “How many do we have?” “You’ll make six. I’m going to keep it a shorthanded game. This is going to be a different crew. My other game is well, a less than reputable crowd.” At this, I can feel D’Arcy’s eyes cutting at me. Alvin gives a mock gasp of surprise, “You mean seedier than a bunch of lawyers, brokers and contractors?” “Good point. But seriously, you don’t want to fuck around with these guys.” I know what that raised eyebrow means. She’s suspected that I might have some dangerous acquaintances. I guess I’ve just confirmed it. Alvin is a big boy, and can handle himself. More importantly, he’s one of the few straights I know who I trust to keep his mouth shut. “Duly noted, tell me what I need to know about ‘em.” “One I’m not sure about. New guy that I haven’t met, but from the description I got, he sounds like a strictly numbers guy, plays online.” The internet has brought forth a new breed of player. The game is pure math to these guys; they have no sense of reading people. They pay little attention to the human aspects of the game and play their own hand against the odds that yours is better. With a somewhat deflated tone, Alvin replies, “Online, huh? Think there’s some potential for maniac play?” That’s the other side of the coin with net players. Some are live wires who just love to throw chips into the middle. Maniac players are total loose cannons. Having more than one at a table can be very entertaining, but also very dangerous. They love to show bluffs after the hand, they know that it gets them action when they actually have it. They project the image of being extremely loose, but that’s only if the price is right “Oh, it’s a certainty, but with two other guys. I’m not sure about the kid. Levi is a tough read. When this guy is in the hand, you might want to strap on your helmet and hold on.” He’s a wheelman, and he operates the family’s auto donation center. In other words, by the time you’re standing on the curb with keys in hand wondering where your new sports car is, he’s already parting it out. He brings that reckless abandon to the table. You kind of have to play by feel with loose players. “Butch can be a real blaster. He’s a when in doubt, raise type of guy. You’ll also hear him called The Express.” When he comes into a hand, he may have bullets; then again the odds are just as good that he has absolutely nothing. The crazy thing is that his nothing turns into something more often than anyone I’ve ever seen. “He brings a certain cargo in from Asia.” The kind that breathes to be more precise, we’ll just leave it at that. “Do I even want to know?” Being a lawyer, he knows that the less you’re told, the less you’ll have to lie about. For a moment I consider explaining, but I decide against it. “No.” is all that I can say “Damn, sounds like we’ve got a live game on our hands, a real minefield.” “Yeah, there’ll be no shortage of action.” Hey, if life were easy, it’d also be boring, right? After a long pause, He inquires as to the remaining player. “OK, what about the other guy, that’s only five so far.” “Oh yeah, I almost forgot about Dover. He’s a solid player, similar to our style. He can mix it up as well.” Alvin and I were playing before internet poker came in. We’ve played enough of it so that we’re very quick at calculating changing odds, yet still play with all the feel and reading of the older generation. Again I hear silence as he thinks of any other information he may need. “I see. So, 9:00. Where’s this place?” “I’ll send out another text with the address and details. Just tell Chris at the door that you’re there with me for the game. I‘m enjoying a little sunshine with D‘Arcy, see you there.” “D’Arcy? You mean the redhead from Corner Bar?” “That’d be the one and only,” I say as I give her a wink. “I’d say good luck with that, but we’ve got a game tonight. Later.” “Later, man.” And with that I end the call and my thumbs go to work typing out the message. Before hitting send, I take another look to make sure I have all of the info there. “Table is set. 6-7 players, $10/20NL, min buy in $1000, max buy in is $2000 at a time. Reloads are welcome. Printer’s Alley warehouse. 9:00.” With business taken care of, I can now turn my attention back to the ravishing beauty before me. “Now, where were we, gorgeous?” |
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