"Ladies and gentlemen," he said. "Let's play poker."
"The challenge is yours, so the choice of weapons is ours," Peter said. "I declare that we play Texas hold 'em."
Griffen shrugged nonchalantly. Peter knew that he disliked the game and was taking every advantage. He would have done the same thing in Peter's place. "It won't make any difference," he said.
Mai put out the button, and dealt the first round of cards.
The first several hands were trials, as Jordan, Pack, and Rebecca felt Griffen out. Griffen, doing the same, saw that his dealers had been right: All of the tells they had spotted belonged to one or another of the three against whom he had not played himself. Peter's he knew, just as the cocky dragon knew his. That information canceled itself out between the two of them but did not redound to the others' advantage since Peter did not have time to convey it to his cohorts. Griffen coolly judged by the discards how daring each player was, how much risk he or she could take, and how good each was at calculating the odds. They were all very good; he found it a compliment that the Eastern dragons had thought enough of him to send real pros.
His phone rang several times during the game: Jerome, Val, Fox Lisa, members of the krewe, all wanting to know where he was. Jerome wanted to come down immediately, but Griffen assured him there was no need. The matter would be settled then and there; nothing Jerome did or could do would change the outcome.
He missed last-minute krewe meetings, fittings, even meals. The sun rose over nearly silent streets that swiftly filled with shouting, raucous crowds of tourists. It was Mardi Gras out there, but inside, poker was the only thing on Griffen's mind.
He only stopped to eat when his hands started to get shaky. After finishing the one whisky and water, he skipped liquor, drinking coffee or diet soda exclusively. The Eastern dragons did the same thing.
About four hours in they were all desperate for the bathroom. Griffen glanced at his fellow players through a gradually increasing lens of yellow, but he wouldn't go first. Rebecca finally broke, headed for the toilet.
"You must have the weakest bladder in the world!" Jordan Ma snapped at her, the first sign of temper from him. Griffen was glad. It meant the cool-headed dragon was breaking.
Rebecca shot him a hateful look. "I drink when I play. I have been playing. It is good to stay hydrated!"
The others, glad of the excuse to take a break, followed in her wake. Mai threw the old decks into the wastebasket after every few hands, setting them on fire with one gentle breath so no cards could be retrieved. She was like a coin-operated fortune-teller. Only her hands and eyes moved. She didn't speak to anyone, not even Griffen. She was probably angry with him for roping her in and would probably take it out on him later when they were alone, but he was glad for her silence. He focused on every turn of the card, every chip that clinked into the pot. Griffen was playing for real.
To the others, this was not life and death. Except possibly for Peter, poker had never been their sole support. Only Griffen knew the desperation of needing to make money by his wits and skill. They could not have that edge. He did. This was more than life and death. He had barely begun to acknowledge his heritage, to learn what it meant to be a dragon, to take on his own power and learn about it. He was not going to get driven out of town by a bunch of tourists. His muscles ached, and the chair padding felt thinner and thinner as the raucous afternoon became loud and musical night, but his mind stayed sharp. It had to.
Gradually, the stacks between his wrists grew larger and larger, as the piles belonging to the others shrank. Winston Long went all in on a hand that Griffen knew from his twitching eyelid was a bluff. He confidently matched the call as well as a side bet from Peter, and stripped the table bare of brilliant gold coins when his hand proved the stronger. Pack removed himself from the table, with a philosophical half smile. The remaining players showed signs of desperation. Griffen found himself grinning ferally at them. This was real card-playing. He felt more alive at that moment than he had in months. Being an executive, a responsible human, a lover, a friend were satisfying, but not like this, not like a game of chance where every move was significant. Every hand could bankrupt him and send him into exile.
Rebecca got more nervous as her stash of gold ran down. Griffen took advantage of it by making large raises against her in each hand that she seemed to have mediocre cards, according to the rapidity of her blinks. Peter let out an amused snort when he saw what Griffen was doing but didn't intrude or try to rescue his fellow dragon. In fact, he seemed almost pleased when Griffen finally wiped her out. Rebecca pulled away from the table with a grim face and went to join Winston. Griffen heard her whispering angrily. Winston tried to calm her. She got up and started pacing.
"Stop that at once," Jordan Ma ordered, without looking up from his cards. "Winston?"
"Sit down, child," the old dragon said.
Rebecca regarded him with dismay. "But he has taken all my gold!"
Winston raised weary eyes. "You lost, young one. He won. That is how it works. You knew it was at hazard. Now it is gone."
"I want it back! He can't keep it!"
"Stop it!" Jordan ordered. Rebecca glowered at him. Griffen watched his hand carefully. Jordan circled his forefinger on the back of his hand once. So the cards were good, but not that good. Griffen pressed his lips together. He had ace-three unsuited, but Jordan wouldn't know that. He pushed out eight stacks of the heavy yellow coins.
"I am putting you all in."
Jordan looked up at him in surprise. Rebecca's distraction had made him lose track of the betting. He looked down as Mai turned over the river card. It was an ace. One pair. Jordan hesitated.
"Call or fold," Griffen said.
Jordan glanced at his hand. "Call." He stacked his remaining eight piles of chips and gold in the center, his advancing armies meeting Griffen's.
Griffen turned over his hand. Jordan bent his head a fraction of an inch. "Very neatly done, Mr. McCandles. Very neat. You caught me off guard, and I fell for it." He threw in his cards without revealing them. Mai gathered them up. Griffen wished she had shown him what he had beaten, but it wasn't really that important.
That meant the last dragon standing was Peter.
Griffen looked at him. He still saw the friendly young man with the gelled-up hair who had become a friend to him over the last couple of months. He realized that on the one hand, Peter had betrayed his confidence to the others. On the other, they had played some good cards, each relishing a really worthwhile opponent. Griffen gulped coffee to prepare himself for a multihour session. It would take a long time to finish Peter off. Griffen was getting tired, but he could do it.
Then he changed his mind.
"It's not worth it, Peter. Let's get it all over with. One hand, winner take all."
Peter was surprised, but the idea appealed to him. He nodded slowly.
"Why not?"
"You're not serious," Mai said.
"I am," Griffen said. He had relied upon skill, cunning, courage, and patience, but to win in a single hand required luck. If he didn't have that, none of the others would make a difference in the long run. If he was meant to stay in New Orleans, let the Big Easy prove it to him. "Let's play."
"Okay, then." Peter sat back with his fingers interlaced behind his head.
Both of them sounded casual, but they were deadly serious. Mai opened the last new deck and shuffled it crisply. She doled out two cards to each of them and set the deck down.
Griffen didn't even look at his cards.
"All in," he said. "I'll match what you are holding."
"Griffen, no!" Mai exclaimed. "Don't do it like that!"
"You are joking," Peter said.
"Not at all," Griffen said. "Absolutely nothing I do now would change what I've been dealt. It's one hand. You have exactly the same chance of winning or losing that I do. It's a major stake. What do you say?"
The other dragon smiled broadly, showing sharp white teeth. He put his h
and down without looking at it. "I agree. Just lay out the other five cards, Mai. No sense in prolonging the agony."
Griffen held his breath. This was a turning point in his life. Mai flicked out the flop, the turn, and the river facedown, then showed them one by one.
Three threes and two twos. Griffen laughed out loud.
"Let's see 'em," Peter said.
"You first."
Peter grinned. He flipped over the first card. A king. Then the second.
Another king.
"Full house," he said.
Griffen's heart pounded, but he was trusting to the little voice in his head. He turned over the first card.
An ace.
His mouth was dry as he went for the other card. Another ace would cement his victory. There were three more in the deck. He fervently expected, no, hoped, to see one. How badly did the Big Easy want to keep him there? He wanted desperately to stay. He had changed his whole life to be there. Let chance show him that he had made the right decision. He turned the card.
A three.
Four of a kind. The only card other than an ace that would make that hand work was right there under his fingers.
He stared at it in disbelief, then let out a whoop that echoed through the fifteenth floor. Then he sat down in his chair and leaned back, resting his left ankle on his right knee.
"Gentlemen and lady, get out of my town. I'll know you in the future. I am vetting every player in every game from here on out. I will know if there's a dragon there, in whatever disguise you wear. You can do what you want, but not at any of my tables. Sorry, Peter, this means you, too."
"Okay, Griffen. Congratulations."
"We will keep to the agreement," Jordan Ma said though his face twisted as if his mind were carrying on an internal argument. "I will report to the elders that we have failed. You are smart as well as a fine poker player. I am sorry that this was not for pleasure."
"I found it pleasurable," Griffen said.
"Me, too," Peter said. He put out a hand. "No hard feelings, I hope?"
"I wish I could say that," Griffen said. He looked at the hand but decided to shake it anyhow. "Maybe someday."
"Let us go," Rebecca demanded. "I want to go home. Aaggh! You will have to use your credit card to pay for a taxi, Jordan!"
"I told you she was too young for this mission," Jordan Ma told Winston Long, as the elevator doors closed on them.
Griffen stood up and stretched. His muscles felt like lead. He looked at the clock--8:00 p.m. He had been playing for thirty hours straight.
"Thank you," he said to Mai. "I owe you."
"You don't," Mai said. "You did it all yourself. It was difficult to be in the same room with them. They have caused me a lot of trouble in the past. They are very tricky. I am surprised that they played the game honestly. I watched for ruses, but they did not use any. It is a compliment to you."
"I'm glad you didn't tell me that until afterward," Griffen said. "I might have screwed up."
"I doubt that very much. But it was very satisfying to see you beat them so thoroughly."
Griffen went into the bathroom and splashed his face. His eyes were red, and his chin was covered in stubble. He came out wiping his face with a towel.
"Good riddance to Jordan Ma. He can catch a plane to anywhere but here."
Mai looked smug. "Oh, well, he may make it to the airport, but he is not leaving New Orleans for a while."
"What? Why not?"
"I gave him a going-away present. A priceless relic of the Ming Dynasty."
Griffen looked at her suspiciously. "What kind of 'priceless relic'?"
"Oh, a dagger. It has a jade hilt in the shape of a dragon, eight-inch blade. Ruby eyes. Utterly beautiful and completely priceless." She grinned up at him sideways. "I called someone I know who went to Jordan's room and hid it in the lining of his suitcase. Oh, and there is a rope matching that which strangled Jesse Lee in the lining of Rebecca's luggage. They will probably sit in the Transportation Safety Administration office cursing my name." Mai smiled, a chillingly bloodthirsty expression. "I am enjoying the thought. They are responsible, after all."
Griffen returned the smile, uncharacteristically enjoying the sangfroid. "So am I. Do I want to know how you knew that?"
"No. It is better if you don't."
Griffen reached into the heap of coins on the table and offered Mai a handful.
"Are you trying to insult me? I don't do tips."
"But you do gold." He had seen her eyes glowing the same color as the game went on. "It's a gift for not killing any of them until I could clean them out."
Mai smiled. She took the coins in her small hands. "Yes. Thank you. I can see why they use them. I would find them impossible to resist." She held one up to her ear. "No, too heavy to use as earrings. Perhaps I will have one set in diamonds for a necklace. As a symbol of your success."
"Won't you get in trouble now, helping me against them?"
"If you had lost, it would have been me helping them," she pointed out. "You make your own luck. Even the elders must respect that."
Griffen nodded. "Will they try again?"
"Of course."
"Do you know what the next attempt will be?"
Mai was silent for a moment, considering her own plans and orders. With Jordan gone, her plan was back on the table.
"No. I don't know what will come next," she said.
That was honest but not helpful. Griffen knew then that he did care for her, but as he had told Jordan, he didn't trust her. He smiled. Her eyes twinkled at him.
"Congratulations."
"On what?"
She gestured at the gleaming heap of coins. "You have your first hoard. It is an important day in the life of a young dragon. You did an impressive job. You earned this. It is time to enjoy it."
"Not yet." Griffen listened for a moment, then leaned out the door. "You can come in now, Jer!"
Jerome seemed to detach from the frame of a doorway down the hall as if he were part of the molding. "You knew I was here?"
"Since about five hours ago," Griffen said. "Looking after your investment?"
"Well, I can't let the big boss go without protection," Jerome said. "What would Mose do if I lost him his replacement after lookin' for so long? My, my, isn't that pretty!" He admired the sprawling heap of gold coins.
Griffen was conscious again of how much he owed Jerome and Mose and so many other people in New Orleans. He took another handful of the gold disks and let them clink downward onto the tabletop. He gathered them up again and offered them to Jerome.
"Now, what's that for, Grifter?" Jerome asked, his dark eyes blazing.
"You've put up with a lot this last few months. I didn't give you the credence you deserved. I was pretty stubborn. I know I thought I was right, but I was wrong. I admit it. You earned this. Call it a bonus."
Jerome shook his head. "You get to think you're right once in a while, brother dragon. You didn't have the feelings I did, and truth to tell, there wasn't any other evidence to say that Peter was involved with the troublemakers. So, call it even." He looked down at the handful of coins, and carefully selected one. "Tell you what, I'll take this as a souvenir, but no more. Gold gets to you, changes you. I don't need it."
"What will you do with the rest?" Mai asked.
"I don't know. Pay off my debts."
"But that will take only a fraction of this fortune."
"Call Mose," Jerome said. "This call he might take. He's got about five hundred places that he puts things he wants to keep for later. Don't tell me which one of them you choose. Don't even trust me. This is too big a treasure to rely on common sense. But it is yours. You may need it one day. I suggest you plant it and forget about it."
"But what about my debts?"
Jerome pointed at the gleaming pile. "Sell a few of these and pay your debts. Won't take but a few. I can tell you who'll give you the best price and won't ask too many questions. Then just cache the rest. I promise yo
u won't need it for now. Good job on handling the situation. Mose would be proud. I am, too."
"Thanks, Jer. That means a lot to me."
Griffen took his advice. He also set aside one gold coin each for Fox Lisa and Val. Maybe he'd present them as special doubloons from the dragon king.
It was good to be the king.
Forty-seven
" ' Scuse me, dude," said the big blond youth in the Florida State T-shirt. He hoisted what was left of his Hurricane and continued on his stagger up Royal Street.
Drunk as a skunk at noon on a Sunday. Griffen moaned and blotted liquor from his favorite blue shirt. He had avoided Bourbon completely over the last few weeks, but lately even the side streets were jammed with tourists, all of whom were increasingly more drunk and uninhibited. Almost everywhere in the French Quarter, girls on the wrought-iron balconies were flashing the crowds. Everyone seemed to be wearing hanks of glittering throws and donning masks, crowns, or hats in the three colors of Mardi Gras. Griffen was looking forward to Fafnir's parade. After that, he planned to hide out in his apartment until the stroke of midnight on Wednesday morning, when the street sweepers came out and washed the whole festival away. The entire city had gone crazy. There could be, he mused, too much of a good thing.
Griffen did not see a single face he knew in the mass, but he had the odd feeling that someone was watching him. He scanned the faces but never caught anyone looking at him. Still, he had learned long ago to trust his instincts. He ducked into the next alley and made a few turns, in case someone was following him. He came out on Decatur, a block north of the Cafe du Monde, but the feeling didn't go away.
His cell phone rang.
"Glad to see you're close by," Stoner's voice said. "Why don't you join me for coffee?"
"No, thanks," Griffen said. "I've got things to do."
He moved just before the hand caught his elbow. He spun around halfway, and found himself facing a tall, muscular man with a long, rectangular face in khakis and a polo shirt. Stoner's voice squawked tinnily out of the small receiver.
Dragons Deal Page 33
