Letters For Emily

by Camron Wright

  The rules were set in stone; play until midnight; no bowing out, even if you’d made a quick run. If you ran out of money before midnight, you’d bet services; make beds for a week, wash cars, that sort of thing. At eleven forty-five I was on a roll, Bud was tapped out, and I knew it was time to make my move. It was my deal. After a few initial rounds of small betting, I dealt the last card of each hand to the players.I showed two jacks, a six and a four. I had three cards down. It was my turn for the final bet. “Men,” I announced glibly, “I’m feeling bad about taking all of your money. I know it’s money you need for dating, food, life’s other essentials. So, out of the goodness of my heart, I’m giving it all back—that is if you’ve got the guts.” They stared at me in awe. I continued, “I’m feeling lucky—very lucky—so I’m betting my entire pot, all the winnings of the evening on this one hand.” I pushed the pile of money sitting before me to the center of the table.

  “What are you doin’, Harry?” Jason Hanson asked.

  “I told you, I feel lucky. I’m betting it all.”

  “We have a betting limit, you can’t do it.”

  “I’m not asking you to match my bet, just the ten-dollar limit—can’t be a rule about that, can there?” They looked dumbfounded.

  “Wait a second. You’re saying that you’re going to bet three hundred bucks or more, while we only have to match the betting limit?”

  “Amazing, but true. It’s out of the goodness of my heart, you understand,” I replied.

  Jason jumped first. “I’m in, man, here’s my ten.” He looked at his last card and dropped his money in the center. He looked confident, showing two pair, fives and threes; jack high. Harvey Langer was next. He scrounged his last ten bucks in dollars and change and placed it on top. He tried to look confident; I guessed he was bluffing. He showed two fours, a two, and a seven. Next, it was Bud’s turn. He had the best hand showing; his problem was that he was out of money. He looked around the table suspiciously at them and then at me.

  “You guys know I’m tapped out. What do you want?Hell, I’m already making your bed, Harry, until what? October?”

  Jason chimed in, “It’s Harry who’s betting the whole wad, I guess he gets to decide what’s fair. Harry?”

  Their eyes shifted to me. I tried to act nonchalant. “I don’t know. Let’s see, there’s an awful lot on the table here, I count three hundred sixty bucks, not to mention the bed making, and bathroom cleaning, you’re already committed to doing. Yep, there’s an awful lot on the table, all right. It’d have to be something worth a lot to give you a chance at winning all this money back.”

  “Enough dramatics, Harry, what do you want?”

  “Here’s a thought. That girl you met, what was her name, Kiley, or Catrina?”

  “It’s Kathryn, Harry, what about her?”

  “That’s right, Kathryn, I remember now. I’m not doing anything on Friday. I need a date—just for some company, nothing serious. I was thinking that she’d be interesting to talk to, being from Oklahoma and all.”

  “She’s from Texas, Harry, and you’re saying you want me to bet my date with Kathryn for Friday night? You’re nuts!”

  “I’m nuts? You win that pot, Bud, and you’ll be eating steak and lobster Friday night with Kelly.”

  “It’s Kathryn.”

  “Why, you could probably rent a limo and have money left over. Think about it, Bud. If you’re not in, you’re tapped. You’ll be buying her burgers and fries, if you can scrape up that much change. It’s all or nothing. Your call. In or not?”

  I tried to act as if it was no big deal. Inside, I wanted todie.

  “I’m just not sure—I mean, betting my date?”

  I reached out my hand and began to fluff the pile of ones, fives, and tens that lay on the table in front of me.

  “As I said, Bud, it’s your call. Sirloin steaks or greasy burgers—you decide.”

  He picked up his last card and studied his hand. He had three nines showing, a king, and a ten. If he had the other nine, I would lose. He seemed to smile.

  “Okay, I’m in.”

  Those were the words I had longed to hear.

  “No more betting at this point, gentlemen, it’s all on the table. Somebody’s going to walk away a winner, the rest losers. That’s the way the game works. It’s a man’s game. Win or lose, it’s been a helluva ride. What do you say, for the sake of dramatics, we all lay ’em down at the same time?” It was deathly quiet as everyone readied their cards.

  Emily, people have defining moments in their lives. Moments when they feel their lives change forever. For some it’s the birth of their first child. For others, the night of their first kiss, or getting that promotion at the office. I know it sounds strange, but mine was winning Kathryn that Wednesday night in the game hall at USC. It was a moment etched into my brain that I’ll remember until the day I die. I was triumphant.

  Of course, after the hoopla had settled down, Bud and I had one small problem to figure out. I’d won Kathryn fair and square, but we couldn’t just walk up and tell her. Women are funny about stuff like that. Instead we crafted a plan.

  Bud was hesitant, but he had no choice. We decided I would go as the driver—it would be cute—she’d love it. Unfortunately, poor Bud was going to get deathly sick and have to be taken home. Not wanting to ruin the evening forKathryn, he would insist in his misery that I take her back to the dance and then on to their dinner reservations. It was ingenious.

  For the plan to be realistic, we needed a car worthy of a driver. That was not as easy as it sounds. Typically a limousine is rented with a driver by the hour. To drive it ourselves required a twenty-four hour rental. It cost me a fortune, but it was for Kathryn, so it was cheap. We picked up the car at noon and then spent the rest of the afternoon cruising around town. (We were certainly going to get our money’s worth.) At five, we picked up our tuxedos and headed back to the dorm to shower. While Bud’s tux was long and formal, mine had a plain black jacket, suitable for the part.

  At seven o’clock we reached Kathryn’s apartment exactly as planned. Bud took the corsage and walked up to the porch. She was stunning. As they approached the car, I jumped out and swept open the door.

  “Ma’am, your car.”

  “Kathryn, this is Harry, my roommate. Remember, I introduced you after his practice the other day.”

  “Sure. Hi, Harry.” I nodded politely as she stepped inside. Bud glared.

  “Harry, to what do we owe the pleasure of you driving us tonight?” she inquired. I had my story all worked out. I certainly couldn’t lie to the girl.

  “Let’s just say that we had a wild game of poker the other night and leave it at that.” Bud coughed—no, it was more of a choke.

  Her voice was sweet. “You bet stuff like that in poker? Men!” she pronounced with disgust. You have no idea, gorgeous, I thought to myself.

  I entered the dance and hung near the back until themusic started. Out of the goodness of my heart, I had agreed to let Bud dance once with her before the illness would hit. I smiled as the band started the evening with a fast dance. Bud looked tense. As the music ended I moved toward the bathroom door and waited. The next dance started and to my horror, Bud continued dancing with my date. He looked nervously toward our meeting spot and when his eyes met mine, I made a quick cutting motion with my hand across my neck. It was fair and square, he was not going to cheat me now.

  As the dance ended, he excused himself and headed toward the rest room. I followed him inside.

  “What the hell you doing, Bud? It’s poker. It’s sacred!”

  “Harry, I just can’t. Let’s work something out. I just can’t do it. I’m sorry.” He had touched an angel, but it was not meant to be.

  “One way or another, Bud, trust me when I tell you, you will get sick.” I had suspected this might occur and I was ready. “Isn’t that right, Jason?” As I spoke, Jason Hanson stepped out from a stall.

  “Harry’s right. I was there. Saw it with my ow
n eyes. You have to pay up, Bud.” Reaching out, Jason grabbed one side, while I grabbed the other. We carried Bud into the closest stall and forced him to bend over. As Jason shoved his face near the water, I flushed.

  “Okay, okay. I’ll do it. Let me up.”

  Forcing him next over to the sink, I messed up his tie, while Jason splashed water on the front of his pressed tux.

  “Take it easy,” he protested, “it’s an expensive tux.”

  “That should do it. Now go out and tell the sweet thing just how sick you’ve been.”

  With that, we pushed him out the door and waited. It didn’t take long.

  “Glad to have you back, Bud. You’re here to vomit again, I presume?”

  The plan was working perfectly, except for one small problem. When we were holding Bud’s head in the toilet, we didn’t realize another stall was occupied. We didn’t hear the door open, or the footsteps of the spy who silently slipped out and ratted on our plan. (It wasn’t until years later, Emily, I found out the snitch was whiny Arnold Swenson, the kid I’d beat out for pitching position on the baseball team.)

  As we prepared Bud to give the sad news to Kathryn, the door burst open. We looked up from the sink to see Kathryn entering the men’s bathroom.

  “Harry?” We were standing in the far corner and as she entered, two guys standing in front of the urinals quickly zipped up their pants and walked out. She marched right up to where Bud, Jason, and I were standing. I stood in shock. Jason spoke first.

  “You can’t just come in here. This is the men’s bathroom!” She glared at him as if to say, you just try to stop me, pal.

  She spoke defiantly. “I’ve got six brothers, honey—it’s nothing I haven’t seen before, trust me on that one.” Then she turned to Bud. “You look like you’re feeling much better.”

  He stammered, not sure how to answer. “Uh, I am, much better.”

  “I’m so glad to hear that.” Her tone was sarcastic. “Gentlemen, what’s this talk about me being lost or won in a game of poker?” I would have expected her to be furious. Instead she was eerily calm. I’m not sure if it was his guilt or Kathryn’s alluring Texas accent, but Bud broke down first.

  “I’m so sorry, it was Harry’s idea. There was three-hundred and sixty dollars in the pot. I was out of money, andHarry said—” Traitor, I thought to myself. She turned to look me square in the eyes.

  “Harry? Is this some sort of local tradition, betting your women in poker?” She remained calm but firm. Deep down, I think she was flattered.

  “Well, no, ma’am. It’s the first time I’ve ever heard of such a thing.” Then stupidly I added, “But it was all fair and square.”

  “I see. What’d you win with, Harry?”

  “I beg your pardon?” I replied.

  “Are your ears all clogged up? I said what’d you win me with—what hand?”

  “Uh—it was jacks and sixes.”

  “Jacks and sixes? You won me with jacks and sixes?” She seemed astonished.

  “Well, yes, ma’am.”

  She paused, deep in thought before she spoke. “It seems to me, boys, that if you’re going to be betting a woman in a game of poker, as if she were some prize pig to be won at the fair, she ought to at least have a chance to defend herself.”

  “What are you saying?” Jason questioned. She ignored him, turning to address Bud.

  “You got any cards around here?”

  “Sure,” he replied. “There’s a deck in the locker room.”

  She looked me square in the eyes and challenged—no, it was more than that—she directed, “Come on, Harry, we’ve got some poker to play.”

  While Bud ran to get the cards, I followed her like a sheep to a vacant table over behind the refreshment stand. She looked so confident and self-assured. On the way over I tried to make small talk. “You play poker? Not many women I know play poker.”

  “I told you, Harry, I grew up with six brothers. I was the only girl. I can do a lot more than play poker.” I had the sick feeling I was being hustled. “So what’s your game, Harry?”

  “We usually play seven-card stud, no jokers, ten-dollar limit—but I didn’t bring much extra money with me.” It was hard to tell but I thought I saw her smile.

  “Don’t worry, Harry. We won’t be playing for money.”

  She pulled the short train of her gown to one side, and then lifted her skirt just enough to sit comfortably across from me at the table. She pulled off each of her satin gloves and tossed them across the table onto a vacant chair beside me. It was a challenge. I tried to appear confident. Her stare was piercing. Bud arrived with the cards and started to hand them to me but Kathryn reached out, took the deck, and began to shuffle. It was a thing of beauty to behold. Her dress pulled to the side, her hair shining in the dim light, a band playing in the background, and Kathryn handling a deck of cards as if she were kneading bread dough in the kitchen.

  In just seconds, she’d shuffled and cut the cards. “Let’s play,” she announced. “Oh, and since we’re not playing for money, how about we play five-card draw, no wilds, threedraw maximum?”

  “Sure, sounds great.”

  No sooner had I agreed than cards were lying before me on the table.

  She looked me in the eyes as she spoke. “Here’s the deal, Harry.” There was no question, she was in charge. “You said you won me fair and square, but that isn’t so because I wasn’t there. You want to play for the right to take me home, then fine. If you win this hand, you get to take me home tonight from the dance.”

  “And if I lose?”

  “If you lose,” she looked around the room, “if you lose, you walk over to that punch bowl and kiss the bottom of it,” then she added, “from the inside.”

  “You’re saying I have to dunk my head in the punch bowl?”

  “You are such a smart boy.”

  I had no choice. If I had even the slightest chance of taking this incredible, poker-playing creature home, I’d have walked to the end of the earth.

  “Let’s do it,” I answered, picking up my cards. I’d been dealt a good hand. I had two pair, eights and fours, jack high. I tried to look calm. She stared into my eyes. My decision was an easy one. I tossed in the jack and tried for a full house; that would seal my win for sure.

  “I’ll take one,” I responded, slinging my card toward her slender fingers.

  “And I’ll take two,” she spoke almost to herself as she dealt our cards.

  My heart raced as I peeked at my card. Nothing that would help; I’d have to win with two pair.

  “Harry, do you want to up the ante, or call?” My hand was good, but she seemed so sure of herself.

  “I think we should just read ’em and weep.”

  “If you say so,” she consented. “What have you got?” As I revealed my hand, a murmur arose from the small crowd that had gathered to watch. She laid her cards down and revealed a pair of queens and a pair of nines, king high.

  My heart sank. “Sorry, Harry. I hope you like punch.”

  As I was about to stand and take my punishment, she continued, “Of course, we could go one more hand if you’d like, perhaps for some bigger stakes.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “We’ll play one more. If you win, you’ll still get to take me home. But if I win—” she turned to Bud, who actually appeared to be enjoying the show, “Bud, are there still chickens up in the biology lab?”

  “Sure, I saw them today in class.”

  “Okay then, if you lose, Harry, you’ll get a chicken from the biology lab, take it to the middle of the dance floor, and in front of all these people, you’ll kiss its beak for a full minute.”

  “What? You want me to kiss a chicken?”

  “Yep, those are the stakes. This is a man’s game. Are you man enough?” Her words sounded familiar. It was strange, everyone was there with dates, but as the game continued, the women seemed to separate from the men, gathering behind Kathryn’s side of the table; the men move
d to stand behind mine. I wasn’t just playing to win Kathryn, I was representing my gender. I could feel the pressure building.

  It’s hard to know what to do, Emily, in these situations. I was being hustled, big time, but what were my choices? I could dunk my head in the punch or take another chance for Kathryn.

  “I’ll tell you what,” I replied, “if I lose, I’ll kiss the chicken. In fact, I’ll kiss the chicken for a full minute and then I’ll dunk my head in the punch bowl, and then I’ll stick my face in that cake over there on the table. But if I win, I not only get to drive you home, I get to take you out onto the dance floor and kiss you for a full minute.” The men’s hoots filled the room.

  She seemed intrigued, but never flinched.

  “You’re on. Your turn to deal.” She pushed the deck of cards in my direction, but I politely refused.

  “You go ahead and deal,” I directed, “I don’t want to be accused of cheating when I win.” I wasn’t trying to be a gentleman.I knew that my card-shuffling abilities would dim in comparison to hers. Within what seemed like seconds, she’d shuffled and had our cards dealt in perfect piles on the table.

  I picked up my hand. The poker gods were not kind. The crowd of men behind me groaned when I asked for three cards. She took one. We laid down our cards and again the women’s side of the table cheered as I lost once more—this time to a lousy pair of jacks.

  “You’ve hit a cold streak, Harry. Perhaps, you ought to be a tad more careful about what you’re betting when you play this game.”

  I was humiliated. She had me kissing a chicken, dunking my head in punch, and then plowing my face into a cake. Instead of watching me suffer, she surprised me.

  “Let’s go one more,” she suggested.

  I’d already lost my dignity, not to mention Kathryn. What else mattered?

  “Sure. Now what?” I asked, leaving my fate in her hands.

  “Same stakes as before, but if you lose, you also climb to the top of the diving tower down by the pool, you strip stark-naked, and jump off while yelling, ‘men are morons.’” The women watching roared at the prospect.