by Lois Lavrisa
Overhearing Sweetie Pie’s comment, several bystanders clapped.
“Get this crap off me.” Ray untangled himself from the feathers. “You need to back off me, whatever you are.”
“Oh, I could say so much back to you.” Sweetie Pie winked at Ray. “But in a battle of wits, it would be wrong to attack someone who’s totally unarmed.”
“Trust me, I’m armed, and don’t you forget it.” Ray stomped away.
Sweetie Pie called after Ray, “I love the sound you make when you shut up.”
Chapter 5
“Thanks for being here with me,” Bezu said as we stood outside City Hall. We’d just finished filling out the application for her building permit. “Aren’t you supposed to be on vacation soon? I know you didn’t need to be here, but I’m glad for the moral support wrangling all this paperwork.”
“Glad to help. And, yes, I started vacation today. I’ve got a few days in town before I leave to visit my folks and sisters in Miami. So, when does construction start on your kitchen?”
“I’ve been busier than a moth in a mitten getting that all together.” Bezu pulled her long blond hair back into a ponytail. “Trying to install modern kitchen equipment in an 1893 house is proving to be very challenging.”
“I bet. But knowing you, it’ll be great when it’s done.” I paused and asked, “What does your fiancé think about the renovation?”
“Luiz is concerned that I’m spending so much time on it.” Bezu ran a finger along her pearl necklace. “He said I should just open my own restaurant instead of doing all the work on the house in order to run my catering business there.”
“Why don’t you open a place?”
Bezu took in a long breath. “Cooking in my own home makes me feel like my family is with me, even if just in spirit. Also, I have no desire to run a restaurant. I’d lose the personal, homemade touch that clients have told me makes my food stand out from the rest.”
“You gotta do what’s best for you. Sounds like you know that.”
People were filing out of the building onto the street. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Earl Chu. He had distinctive high cheekbones, a square jaw, and pitch-black hair. I’d seen him around the courthouse. He was a well-respected public defense attorney. We’d exchanged greetings but nothing beyond that.
“He’s cute, huh?” Bezu remarked.
I hadn’t realized I was staring. “Don’t know who you’re talking about.” When I heard my name being called, I turned and saw Patrice DeLeon, a city councilwoman. She was waving at me. “Will you excuse me?” I asked Bezu.
“You go on ahead. I have to meet with my architect. I’ll see you tonight at the poker tournament?”
She had been hired to cater dinner for the group. “What are you making?”
“Easy finger food. Sandwiches, homemade chips, my special secret recipe pickles, and for dessert, muffins.” Bezu hugged me. Before she turned and walked away, she said, “I hope you win big.”
“That’s my plan.”
Patrice DeLeon greeted me. “She’s very pretty. Is she your girlfriend?”
Shaking my head no, I avoided belaboring the topic by asking my own question. “How are you? I haven’t seen you in a while.”
“I’m great.” She undid the top button of her blazer. Her neck looked flushed. “I wanted to congratulate you for making it to the final table.”
“Thank you. And back at you.”
She smiled. “I look forward to playing.”
“So do I. More importantly, I look forward to winning.”
“Me, too. But there can only be one champion.”
“You’re looking at him.”
She shook her head and grinned. “No, I think you’re looking at the winner right now.”
I pulled out my phone so that I could see my reflection. “Yes, I am.”
We both laughed.
I always had liked her. She seemed like a decent, hardworking politician, and I had always considered her a friend. However, after overhearing the conversation between Ray and his dad, I could almost guarantee it wasn’t his father who’d arranged Ray’s promotion.
On occasion, I had seen Patrice and Ray together. I’d always assumed their meetings were professional, since all she seemed to boast about in the media was her happy marriage any chance the press was around. Still, their relationship, whatever it was, made me think that Patrice might have been the one who had something to do with Ray’s promotion. The idea irked me to no end. But I knew she had clout, and it was best to remain friendly and professional and not let my personal feelings get in the way.
“Don’t you think that you and I are evenly matched?” She slid her large black-rimmed sunglasses down, exposing her hazel eyes. Her large multi-diamond wedding ring glistened in the sun. “Judging by the rest of the table, we’re the ones to beat. Except Ray has been a really strong player in the games leading up to the tournament. He might surprise us.”
“We’ll find out tonight,” I replied. “Meanwhile, how’s your reelection campaign coming along?”
She was currently running for a second term as city councilwoman. Everyone knew, however, that she had her political ambitions set on the state legislature. Her campaign focused on her strong morals. Her slogan was “Always doing what’s right.” If she had gotten Ray the promotion, I found this ironically amusing.
“Good. But until my constituents vote, no one knows for sure.”
“I think you’ll win by a landslide, again,” I claimed.
“So, what were you doing here today?” Patrice asked me.
“Giving moral support to my friend. She’s applying for a building permit.”
“If she needs help, please let me know. I have some favors I can call in.”
“Thanks. I appreciate it.”
“Hey.” She reached out to grab my shoulder. “I’m really sorry you didn’t get the promotion. You deserved it.”
I wanted to scream at her. My suspicion was strong that she’d called in favors in order to get Ray promoted over me. Yes, I did deserve it, and I should have gotten it instead of Ray. What were you thinking? How could you do that? I thought we were friends! My gut tightened. My jaw clenched as I took in a deep breath. “I’ll see you tonight, then?”
“Yes, as the new champion.” She laughed as she waved a hand in the air and strolled away.
Chapter 6
Sanders’ Tavern’s owner, Norman, aka Sweetie Pie, greeted me as I entered the bar. He wore a plaid button-down shirt and jeans.
We were the only two people at the entrance. Everyone else was gathered near the back of the long, rectangular room. I poked his Oxford-shirted chest. “I kind of miss your pink boa and beehive wig.”
Norman laughed. “Here, I’m just a dive bar owner. I like to keep my professional life and personal life separate.”
“By the way, you’ve trimmed down a lot, haven’t you? I noticed it the other night at the club.”
“Yup. Twenty pounds lighter. Heart doctor said if I didn’t lose the weight, my ticker would kill me.” He tapped his chest. “Although I hate exercise, I’ve been running three miles a day for the past few months.”
“Good for you.” I smiled.
“So, do you feel lucky tonight?” Norman locked the door behind me. The tavern was closed to the public tonight in order to host the poker tournament.
“Absolutely.” I carried a jacket and wore my lucky blue T-shirt with faded white lettering that said, “I see guilty people,” both an ode to my favorite movie, The Sixth Sense, and a nod to my career.
“Weird weather huh? One day it’s hot and humid, and then today we get a cold snap.”
“To paraphrase Mark Twain, if you don’t like the weather now, just wait a few minutes.”
“Isn’t that the truth.” Norman motioned toward the back wall, near the exit door and restrooms, where a few other coats already hung. “You’re welcome to hang your jacket back there.”
“Will do.”
; “You’re the last of the players to arrive.” He paused for a moment and locked eyes with me. “Lieutenant Ray Murphy seems to be on his best behavior tonight.”
“Oh?”
“You should have seen the way he greeted me, like we were long-lost buddies. You’d never guess he’s been such a pain in my backside for so long. Everyone knows we can barely tolerate each other.” Norman sneered. “He was so nice it took me aback.”
“He has his moments.” I smiled.
“On the other hand, he could be playing head games as a competitive move.”
I waved a hand. “I think we’ll all do whatever it takes to win the pot tonight.”
“I heard tonight’s kitty is at five thousand?”
I nodded.
Norman leaned in, “Between you and me, I hope you get it all.”
I grinned. “I bet you said that to every player tonight.”
“What can I say?” Norman shrugged his shoulders smiled. “Oh, and we lucked out. Your dealer tonight used to work in Vegas. The big league.”
“How did you find her?”
“She’s the sister of a friend of mine at the Magnolia Club.”
“As long as she gives me all the winning cards.” I winked.
A knock at the door made both Norman and me turn.
Norman looked through the peephole and unlocked the door. After he opened it, we greeted Bezu.
“Good evening, gentlemen.” Bezu held a large wicker basket in one hand and had a bag slung over her shoulder. “I hope you like what I made for you.”
I took the basket from her. “I know I will.”
“Thanks, I really appreciate it.” Norman kissed her cheek. “One day you’ll be so popular you won’t have time to cater small jobs like this.”
“My britches will never get too big to help out friends,” Bezu disagreed. “Where would you like me to set up?”
Norman pointed toward the bar.
“Please don’t mind me. I’ll get this taken care of. Y’all go and play.” Bezu began to unload items from her bag.
At the back of the long room, in place of the usual small round tables, stood one large oval table topped with green felt. The five other players in the tournament socialized in their seats.
As I approached the group, I greeted Patrice, Ray, and Howie. Then I shook hands with the other players, people I’d met at one time or another during previous rounds in the tournament: twenty-something-year-old firefighter JJ and the eldest of the group, prominent personal injury attorney Dickey.
Norman announced, “This here’s our professional dealer, Maggie. She used to work in Vegas, but she’s moved to Savannah and is now working on gambling boats around this area.”
“Nice to meet you.” I shook the dealer’s perfectly manicured hand.
“And over there, serving as my helper, is Big Mike.” Norman pointed toward the guy at the bar, whom I recognized from the other night as the bouncer at the Magnolia Club.
Big Mike walked over to the table. “Can I take your drink orders?”
“Oh? So you’re working here now?” Ray addressed Big Mike. “Must be because you lost your other job as a bouncer.”
Big Mike folded his arms on his chest.
Ray’s eyes narrowed into a squint. “That’ll teach you to mess with me.”
“No. It teaches me that you’re abusing your power, that’s what.” Big Mike’s posture stiffened.
Ray shoved his chair out, making a loud scraping noise on the floor. He stood and moved nose to nose with Big Mike. “You still have a job here, so be grateful.”
“Okay. Enough, guys. Cool it,” JJ interjected. “How ’bout we get the game going soon?”
“Yeah, cut out whatever BS you have going on,” Dickey said to them.
Big Mike shook his head, as if in resignation.
Ray huffed and sat down.
“Oh, and you”—Dickey pointed to Big Mike—“tell Norman I’d like a scotch with a splash of Coke, on the rocks. Make that two.”
As Big Mike took our drink orders, the air remained tense from the verbal tussle. I shook it off, refusing to get caught up in any drama.
For several minutes, we chatted amongst ourselves. During this time, Norman made the drinks, and then Big Mike delivered them.
Looking at the beer-themed neon wall clock, I saw it was still a few minutes before our start time. I wiped the palms of my hands on the top of my jeans.
“Can you turn on the air, please?” Patrice called out to Norman.
“Will do.” Norman nodded and walked away.
The temperature outside had a slight chill, in the midsixties, but the tavern felt warm and stuffy.
Patrice fanned herself with her hand.
“It sounds like hot flashes or something?” Howie asked Patrice.
“You’re always such a gentleman, Howie.” Patrice grinned.
“Sorry, that was out of line. It just slipped out. My sister-in-law is going through early menopause, and all I hear about is her body temperature, too hot or too cold. It’s never just right,” Howie explained.
“No harm done at all,” Patrice assured him.
“So, how long have you been a dealer?” Ray looked at Maggie.
She glanced toward him. “Quite a while.” Then she winced and rubbed her fingertips on her temples.
My mom wore a similar expression when she had the start of a headache.
“Don’t you trust that Norman found us a reputable one?” Patrice asked.
“I was just trying to make conversation with her,” Ray offered.
“How hospitable of you, Ray.” Patrice then addressed Maggie. “I, for one, just want to know who does your nails. They are simply flawless. Much prettier than mine. Look what my nail tech talked me into.” She held up her red-white-and-blue-painted nails.
“Ladies, I think you both are lovely, but this is not a beauty salon. Can we get this game going?” Dickey took a swig of his drink.
“What are you in a hurry for? Is there another accident you need to get to?” Howie chuckled.
“Hey. I don’t only do PI cases.” Dickey lifted his chin. “Do you need a will?”
“Nope. But I do need my tree cut down. Can you bring your axe?” Howie snickered.
“So you like the new commercial?” Dickey asked.
“It’s a bit over the top,” JJ put in.
“But it got me noticed. I’ve got a director calling about a reality show. If you’re nice, I might let you all be in it.” Dickey swished the ice in his raised glass.
“No, thanks. Not for me,” Patrice said.
“I’ll pass on that, too. Not sure that’s the type of exposure I want,” JJ agreed.
“Really? Mr. February? I thought you’d jump all over that,” Howie said.
“You’re jealous we have the most popular calendar in Savannah.” JJ smirked. “Cops don’t have a calendar.”
“’Cause we’re too busy working instead of posing.” Howie chortled.
I had to laugh, too.
“Thanks, but no thanks,” Ray added. “No offense, but the last thing I want is to be associated with a two-bit reality TV show about a gimmicky attorney.”
“No harm, no foul, Ray.” Dickey sat back in his chair. “Just remember when the show makes it big that I gave you all an opportunity to get in on it.”
“Duly noted.” I grinned.
Ray sat to the left of the dealer. On the other side of Maggie was JJ. I had taken the only empty chair, which put me right between Howie and Patrice.
Maggie took a new deck of cards from Norman and held them up for all of us to see that they were sealed. She cut them open. After she dispersed the chips, she fanned out the cards on the table, then flipped, shuffled, and cut them.
“Let’s roll,” Ray said.
“Get ready to lose,” JJ responded.
“You’re kidding me, right?” Ray smirked. “That coming from someone whose entire job can be replaced by water.”
JJ rolled his ey
es. “Pizza delivery arrives quicker than the police.”
“Watch it, JJ, you’re outnumbered here.” I admired JJ’s spunk, and it didn’t hurt that he was a really nice guy. But there were three cops in the room.
“God made police so firemen would have heroes,” Howie quipped.
“JJ, I warned you. Do you want to keep going?” I grinned.
JJ held up his hand in defeat as he chuckled. “I’m done, for now.”
“Boys, boys. What am I going to do with you all?” Patrice dabbed her forehead with a napkin. “There is way too much testosterone in this room. Can you all rein it in and channel it to poker?” She smiled, adding, “And watch me win.”
“I hate to disappoint you, but I’ll be taking home all the cash.” Ray folded his arms over his chest.
“No, Ray, that would be me. I feel luckier than I ever have.” Dickey waved his drink. “You all can just hand over your chips to me now and go home.”
“Ha! Over my dead body,” Ray snorted.
Chapter 7
“Okay, then, ten bucks.” Ray called the small blind bet and pushed his chips toward the middle, nearly knocking over Dickey’s drink.
“Twenty bucks.” Dickey slid his corresponding chips in for the big blind. “By the way, any of you need a power of attorney? I’ve got some time on my hands and could cut you a great deal.”
Dickey never gave up. I had to admire his tenacity. I also couldn’t help but wonder if his fourth divorce had strained his finances.
“I could cut my hourly rate in half. But the offer only stands this week,” Dickey continued.
“Thanks for the generous offer, but I’m good,” Patrice said. “Okay, the blinds are out. Let’s move on.”
Maggie dealt clockwise, giving each player one card at a time until each of us had two.
“Call.” Patrice put in the requisite number of chips.
Looking at my hole cards, I saw a seven-two off suit. It was a miserable starting hand. “Fold,” I announced and hoped my cards the rest of the night would be better than my first hand. If not, I could kiss the five-thousand-dollar kitty goodbye.
