Stone Junction

by Jim Dodge

  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.

  Just before midnight, Daniel
took fifty thousand of Rupert’s. Daniel was dealing. Rupert opened for ten thousand and everybody passed to Daniel. Daniel raised forty thousand. Rupert called and drew one card. Daniel played pat. When Rupert checked, Daniel bet thirty thousand, all that Rupert had left. Rupert considered for a moment then shook his head. ‘Take the pot, sir,’ he said with his usual crisp formality. ‘I was drawing to a six-four with the joker, and I caught a notch outside.’ He turned over his hand – 10–6–4–2–joker – then threw it in the discards.

  Daniel said, ‘When you checked, I knew you didn’t have a seven or better, and I had all the eights.’ He turned over his hand, four eights and an ace.

  Rupert nodded glumly. ‘Good hand.’

  Guido squealed, ‘Someone call the weather station and please see for me if thees ess true. I don’t believe my eyes but I think I jus’ see some snowing.’

  The last hand before midnight, Rupert tapped out.

  Daniel and Bobby ate a late-night dinner in the lounge. Bobby reviewed the pro football games coming up the next day, idly asking Daniel what he thought of the spreads. Daniel wanted to talk about the card game. ‘Forget football. How am I doing?’

  ‘Who’s got the most chips on the table?’

  ‘I do,’ Daniel said. ‘I’ve got about two hundred fifty thousand, Guido two hundred forty, you’re around two ten, and Russo’s about even.’

  ‘Well, whoever’s got the most chips is doing good.’

  Daniel ignored Bobby’s sarcastic grasp of the obvious. ‘I think I’m going to win it all. That snow hand broke me loose.’

  ‘It was a good play,’ Bobby said, ‘but it sure would have been interesting to see what you woulda done if Rupert had rapped pat in front of you. Beside crap your pants, I mean. But like I told you a thousand times, a good play is the one that wins the pot. That’s the measure of it.’

  Daniel was about to reply when Clay Hormel approached their table. ‘Bobby, Daniel – good to see you both still in there.’ He squeezed Daniel’s shoulder. ‘Kid, that was a helluva snow you put on ol’ Limey. He’s still talking to himself. Tell you what, though – I sure as hell would have called you.’

  Practicing his social graces, Daniel said, ‘I wouldn’t have tried it on you. You’re too tough.’

  ‘If I could have caught a few cards, I’d still be in it.’

  Bobby agreed, ‘Yeah, you gotta catch the tickets.’

  Clay said, ‘Like the ol’ saying goes: “When you’re hot, you’re hot; and when you’re not, you’re colder than a motherfucker.” And speaking of hot,’ Clay winked, ‘you guys are invited down to my place in Malibu for some serious party-time when the game’s over. Lots of gorgeous women and other fun things. Can’t tell, maybe even play a few hands of cards.’

  ‘We’ll be there with bells on,’ Bad Bobby grinned.

  Daniel said more loudly than necessary, ‘It depends on how I feel.’

  ‘No matter how you feel,’ Clay patted him on the back, ‘my parties make you feel better. See you there, and good luck to you both.’

  When Clay was out of hearing, Daniel leaned forward and said so evenly that the control in his voice was obvious, ‘Don’t fuck with my head when we’re not playing.’

  ‘You ain’t beat me yet,’ Bad Bobby replied without a trace of defensiveness. ‘Till you do, I call the shots. Clay’s Hollywood games are world renowned for a shitpot of lawyers and producers with big money, bigger egos, and just a tiny little talent for poker. And personally speaking, if I don’t win this freeze-out game, my bankroll will need some pumping up. So that’s the shot I’m calling for us. And till you beat me, you come along.’

  ‘Till then,’ Daniel said.

  ‘And besides all that, Daniel, I’m your teacher. I’m supposed to fuck with your head.’

  Guido came on strong when play resumed the next afternoon. He’d changed from his tuxedo into a chambray work shirt and jeans, explaining, though nobody asked, ‘Now eet ess time to go to work.’

  He went to work on Johnny Russo’s chips the fifth hand, taking half of them when he beat Johnny’s one-card 8–5 with his pat 8–4. He took a raised pot from Bad Bobby, making an 8–6 to Bobby’s pat 9–8. Daniel recognized Guido was hot and stayed away from him, the four-thousand-dollar antes slowly eroding his stack. But he couldn’t avoid Guido forever.

  Bad Bobby dealt it. Daniel opened for twenty thousand with a one-card draw to ace-deuce-trey-four. Johnny Russo passed. Guido raised fifty thousand. Bad Bobby passed. Daniel had an impulse to raise all he had left, around a hundred fifty thousand, and either force Guido to fold or, if he called, let it all ride on the single card. He decided just to call, sliding two stacks of gold chips into the pot. He drew one card. Guido, after some thought, rapped pat. Daniel noticed the hesitation; Guido usually declared himself immediately. Daniel looked at his new card: he’d caught an eight, making an 8–4–3–2–1. But he didn’t know what to do. If he bet a lot and Guido raised, he’d have too much in the pot not to call. If he checked and Guido bet a bunch, he’d have to call. He decided to bet a little, hoping Guido might think he was trying to sucker him into raising. ‘I bet ten thousand,’ Daniel announced.

  Guido looked at him curiously. ‘You don’t bet very much. You don’t like your hand?’

  ‘You can raise if that’s not enough,’ Daniel told him.

  Guido thought a second. ‘No, I jus’ call.’

  ‘I have an eight–four,’ Daniel said, spreading his cards face up on the table.

  Guido shook his head dolefully as he turned over his, a 7–5–4–3–2. ‘Put eet een a Glad Bag, keed, and set eet out on da curb.’

  ‘A seven–five?’ Daniel said with disbelief. ‘And you don’t raise? Guido, what’s the matter? You don’t like money? Or did you think it was a suction bet?’

  ‘No, no, no,’ Guido passionately denied it. ‘Eet ess jus’ that you play so bad I feel peety on you. But peety ess not a good thing for you or me, so soon it must be like God and the dwarf.’

  ‘God and the dwarf?’ Daniel repeated, immediately knowing better.

  Guido slapped himself on the forehead, bellowing, ‘What! You have not been told of God and the dwarf?’

  ‘No,’ Daniel said, ‘but I have a feeling I will be.’

  ‘Yes, I weel gladly tell you how eet ess weeth God and the dwarf. Thees dwarf ess sitting one day in the cantina with many, many other people when God walks een the door, looks ’roun’, and says, “I’m going to shit on all the peoples een thees cantina – except for you, leetle dwarf.” The dwarf he ees very happy and he jumps down from hees chair and cries, “O thank you merciful Lord for sparing me, for already I have suffered very much being a dwarf.” And God tells heem, “Hey, I don’t spare nobody. I’m gonna use you to wipe my ass.”’

  Guido laughed wildly while Daniel, without a word, tossed his hand in the discard. Guido’s laugh bothered him more than the story. Guido was crazy; he might do anything. Daniel decided to play cautiously until he regained his sense of balance.

  Perhaps too cautiously. With Bad Bobby again dealing, Daniel opened for ten thousand dollars with a pat 8–7–6–5–3. Johnny Russo, who’d dropped to about seventy thousand, called, as did Guido and Bobby. When Daniel rapped pat, they each drew a card. Daniel wasn’t in love with his chances: A rough eight was good odds against one player drawing a card, but not against three. Daniel checked, prepared to call any bet. Johnny Russo pushed all his chips in, close to sixty thousand. Guido cursed the king he’d caught and pitched his hand in the discards with disgust. Bad Bobby announced, ‘I raise,’ adding another sixty thousand to the call.

  ‘I got nothing left,’ Johnny said, tipping up his empty rack.

  Bobby reminded him, ‘There’s still another player in the pot.’

  ‘No there’s not,’ Daniel said. ‘I might have called sixty thousand, but not a hundred and twenty.’ He threw away his hand.

  ‘You got me,’ Johnny told Bad Bobby. ‘I paired fours.’

  ‘I caught
a queen,’ Bad Bobby said, spreading his hand.

  Johnny said, ‘Good call. I didn’t think anyone would expect a bluff.’ He pushed himself back from the table and stood up.

  ‘Don’t feel bad,’ Daniel told him, ‘I threw away the winner.’ He counted his chips. He had a hundred sixty thousand dollars, Bad Bobby three hundred thousand, and Guido around three-forty. He would have to play careful to catch up, look for a good clean shot and gamble on it.

  Down to a hundred twenty thousand after Bobby snowed him with three nines, Daniel took his shot. He was dealing. Guido opened for a modest ten grand, Bad Bobby passed, and Daniel, with 9 –5–joker–2–1, raised fifty thousand.

  ‘Well dwarf,’ Guido smiled, ‘I wipe my ass early. Please put in all your cheeps eef you weesh to play.’ He called Daniel’s raise and added another sixty thousand.

  Daniel looked at his hand again. It wasn’t likely he’d get a better one to play. ‘I call,’ he said, and put his remaining chips in the pot. ‘Cards?’ he asked Guido, picking up the deck.

  ‘Cards?’ Guido repeated, as if he’d never heard the word. ‘Guido Caramba does not put a hundred and twenty thousand dollars een the pot and then draw a card. Only a fool would do such a thing.’ He rapped the table violently. ‘No cards! ’

  ‘Shit,’ Daniel muttered. He’d been hoping Guido would draw; if so, he’d play pat. Guido’s big production over drawing cards made Daniel think Guido wanted him pat, which meant he likely had a rough eight or seven. Bad Bobby had taught him it wasn’t a sound practice to break a pat hand if you couldn’t win any more money if you improved it, and since he was all in, there was no more to win. But any eight would beat him. It was a gut judgment. He threw the nine face up on the the table and said to Guido, ‘I’m going to get off this smooth nine.’ He dealt himself one card.