by Caryl McAdoo
“It’s close.”
“I hate this.”
“I know.” He took the deck from her. “It’s my deal.” He flipped a ten to the center of the table.
With each tick of the clock, the rock in Marge’s belly grew heavier. She’d win a little then lose it back a dollar or two at a time. The ten-dollar ante every seventh hand certainly didn’t help her cause either. She’d just as soon never have to deal.
By eight o’clock, she was beside herself. Two bad calls had about done her in. Both times she’d been certain Holly was bluffing, but the redhead held the winning hands. How could she play the players if she couldn’t read them worth a flip? Oh well, maybe she’d lose and be done with his horrid scheme.
By eight-thirty, it had gotten worse. Two hundred eighteen dollars down, and if that wasn’t bad enough, the deal came around to her again. Make that two hundred twenty-eight down. “Straight low-ball.”
Why that came out of her mouth, she never knew. For some strange reason, she called it. At least she’d get to look at five cards before making another bet. She dealt then leaned back and studied her hand. Great. Two pair, when she called straight low.
Preston opened for five dollars. Three called before Marge. For a few seconds, she studied the nasty pairs. She should probably fold, but instead, she laid her cards face down and pitched a twenty into the pot.
“I raise.”
What was she thinking? Her big bet ran Audrey and Natalie out, and they were the ones she needed so badly to beat. Preston, Vickie, and Holly called. Now what?
“Cards?”
Preston took one, Vickie one, and Holly two.
“I’m good.” Marge heard the words come out of her mouth, but couldn’t believe it. She was a sure loser holding two pair. Why did she stand pat? She might’ve at least had a chance. This would make her or break her, and she’d be done. It’d be over. No doubt Preston would see through her.
She tapped the table. “You opened, Dub.”
“Check to the raise.”
The other two tapped the table.
“No, not this hand.” She tossed a fifty toward the center, then slipped her hands into her lap. Preston folded his cards almost before her fifty hit the pot. Was he being kind, or had he really not helped? Likewise, Vickie chunked her hand, leaving only Holly.
The red head pulled a bill out of her stack and held it out, but didn’t let it drop. Marge’s face grew warm. She must be sweating bullets, but she resisted the urge to wipe her forehead. For way longer than she wanted, Holly stared at her. Marge stared right back then gave her a little smile.
“I’d be a fool to call a pat hand. You haven’t bluffed the whole day. Don’t know why I’m even considering it.” She tossed her cards.
Marge raked in her winnings. That was a quick sixty bucks. Preston shuffled and dealt hold-em, high low split, his usual game. Marge won high hand with a flush and split the pot with Vicki. The next hand she folded early, but won the one after that with two pair.
Things didn’t look quite so bleak, but she was still sixty-four dollars down with eighteen minutes to play. But Natalie and Charlotte had gained on their losses, too. Two hands in a row, Marge folded then lost twenty. Her turn to deal always came around too soon. She pitched a ten out.
“Five card stud.” She dealt one hold card and one up card around. When she peeked at her down card, a one-eyed jack peeked back. He matched the one showing. All right, a pair of jacks.
“Natalie, your king looks high.”
“Check.”
Holly tossed a five in the pot. “Get your checks at the bank, ladies.”
Marge leaned over as if to examine Holly’s card, the nine of hearts, then let her bill drop. She didn’t want to make it so high as to run them out, but neither did she want it too cheap for them to try and draw out on her. “I’m going to raise, twenty plays.”
Vicki folded. “I would’ve stayed with you, Lady Bug, if you’d called that straight low again, but I haven’t even got anything to draw at.”
“You’re forgiven.” The others called the bet. “Pot’s right.”
The second up-cards flew around the table. “No help for Dub. Oh, another nine for Holly. Nine’s a pair. Natalie gets a ten to go with her king, possible straight flush. And Charlotte? Another spade. A three for me? I need to bone up on my dealing. So, then nines are new.”
“Twenty’s good.” Holly tossed the Jackson onto the table.
“I call.” Charlotte dropped two tens to the middle.
Marge called without comment. Preston folded.
“I’ll call one more time.” Natalie said in an off-hand way, but then couldn’t seem to get her money out fast enough.
She dealt around again, but for some reason, Marge watched their eyes as the cards fell. No one’s twinkled. Natalie caught Holly’s nine right in front of her, and Holly got a six. Another spade fell on Charlotte’s horde of black cards. Marge flipped her own card down on top of her last. A jack. Whew! She barely managed to swallow her gasp.
“Pair of jacks are high.” She hoped her voice sounded normal, but couldn’t tell for sure with her heart pounding so loud. She counted out sixty dollars for all to see then shoved the money to the center of the table. “That’s a twenty for each jack, ladies.”
Natalie laughed and called. “Yeah, right.”
Holly folded and Charlotte donated to the pot. “You wouldn’t be fibbin’ now, would you Miss Marjorie?”
Marge only smiled sweetly and dealt the final fifth cards face up, Texas style.
She tossed Natalie a queen of hearts. “There goes the flush, still a possible straight.” The look in the woman’s eyes chilled Marge.
She flipped Charlotte her card, another spade. Oh dear? What had she done? She flipped over her card then leaned back. What was she going to do? They both had her beat.
Charlotte pointed to her. “You going to bet those two pair or what?”
Marge looked down and spread her cards. A three! She got another three! She did have two pair, but with the jacks being trips, she held a full house. Oh, wow. She had them both beat. She sighed a thank-you prayer that she wouldn’t be going anywhere then shrugged. “I’ll check to the straight and the flush.”
Natalie glanced at Charlotte’s cards then knocked the table. “Check’s good.”
“Oh, no, girls, sorry. Not with me.” Charlotte pitched a hundred into the pot.
Preston leaned forward. “Now this is getting interesting.”
Marge nodded. A gray cloud moved in over her because now she was sure who would be going home. “Call.”
Natalie shook her head from side to side. “If you can keep her honest, I can’t.” She folded her cards.
Marge turned over her hidden jack. “Full house.”
Charlotte jumped to her feet and leaned over the table. “Why in the world did you check a full house?”
“I knew I’d won enough, figured I’d let you two decide who lost.”
Four minutes remained on the clock, so Preston dealt another hand. Marge folded without looking at her cards, and Vickie took another seventy dollars from Charlotte. At the stroke of nine, Preston stood. “Charlotte would you be so kind as to join me in my office after everyone counts up.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Journal entry - April 29th
Can lightning strike twice? Apparently so. What fire.
Marge arranged her money in hundred dollar stacks, but no one asked her how much she had. Plainly, Charlotte was the big loser. The poor woman’s eyes glistened with unshed tears, but she held her chin high. She pitifully chided Natalie into going through the motions of counting up.
‘What if’ danced through Marge’s heart. What if she lost? Would it be the end of her relationship with Preston? Not that she really even had one. Well, he liked her, she was certain of that if she knew anything at all. But whatever had grown between them remained so precarious, so fragile and meaningless, that a stupid poker game could end it. She hated t
hat.
Her heart broke for the Southern Belle. The absurdity of Preston’s games coupled with Charlotte’s anguish caused an avalanche of angry thoughts that slammed Marge head-on and took her breath away. Her face burned, and her chest tightened. She jumped to her feet then marched to his office. Her balled fist stopped inches from his door. On second consideration, she knocked two raps with a single knuckle.
“Come in.”
She stepped around the door, closed it behind her, but kept hold of the knob. Where could she start? She couldn’t make herself speak.
He sprang from his chair and rounded his desk. “What’s the matter?”
She threw her hands up. “You. This game you’re playing. Making us play.” He stopped at the edge of his desk. She dropped her hands and her head. Then she looked him in the eye. “I hate it.”
“I know.” He looked at his shoes then back with a sigh. “You’ve told me already.”
First words, then phrases ran through her mind, but none of them reached her mouth. She wanted to tell him she was through, volunteer to take Charlotte’s place, but she couldn’t stand to throw away whatever time she might have with him. If only another month, she still wanted it. “Why can’t we all stay through the guarantee period?”
He shook his head as though shaking off the idea. “Sorry, that’s not the deal. I said I’d send one home a month. That’s how it’s got to be.”
She hated being on borrowed time. “But why?”
He ran his hand over his mouth. “You’re as bad as Vicki.”
“What does Darling have to do with this?” Oh she immediately wished she hadn’t said that. Now he’d think she was jealous.
He smiled. “She’s always asking questions, too.”
One part of Marge wanted to slap that smirky grin off his face and another longed to kiss it away from his full lips. Had she gone insane? “You also said that if we’d have you, you were going to marry one of us.”
“That I did.”
She opened the door. “Then it seems to me, as prospective-wives, we deserve to know why you’re doing it this way.” She slipped out and closed the door before he could smart off again.
* *
Preston had to agree. Marge and the other ladies probably did deserve an explanation. A second tap on his door pulled him back to the task at hand. “Come in.”
Charlotte walked through with her head held high. “You wanted to see me?”
He gestured toward the left wingback then slipped around to his own chair. “I’ve got a couple of documents I’d like you to sign, then you’ll get your check.”
“No problem.”
“Sorry you lost the game.”
“Guess that’s the way it goes. I was looking forward to antiquing with you. Maybe we could still go sometime.”
“Maybe, or maybe you can do some shopping for me down the road.” He pulled the legal forms from a folder in his file drawer. “You heading back to North Carolina?”
“Not just yet. Thought I might snoop around the Metroplex awhile. Texas has always been like a fairytale land to me. You know, all the cowboys and Indians and all. Might even go see the capital and Houston, maybe Padre Island since I’m so close.”
“Nothing’s so close in Texas.” He laughed, hoping to lighten things. “Well, I hope you’ll hang around long enough for the wedding then. I’m curious, who do you think I should pick?”
She looked away, then back, and smiled. “Why, me, of course.”
He rewarded her humor with a chuckle. “Besides you.”
“Well, I don’t rightly know for sure, but I can truly say with conviction that you’d be making a mistake with Vicki.”
“Really? Why do you think that?”
“Age, for one. Besides that, she’s nothing but a gold digger.”
He might agree on the age issue, but not the gold digger part. He slid two pieces of paper toward her. “You know lawyers love their mumbo jumbo. Read it twice if you need, but it’s basically a repeat of the don’t-tell-anyone-what’s-going-on-here you signed in the beginning. Except this one more clearly specifies the penalties.”
She studied the papers only a minute then looked up. A tear ran down her cheek. She swiped at it. “Dub, I’d never –”
“I know. I do, but just in case, I need you to sign.”
She took a pen from his desk and signed both pages without reading further. “Of course.” She stared a minute at the sixteen thousand dollar check then slipped it into her pocket. “There’s no one could ever accuse you of being a cheapskate.” She swallowed hard and looked him in the eye. “I never ever thought I’d be going home next. Can I have my goodbye kiss now, or do I have to wait until tomorrow morning?”
He leaned back and studied a spot six inches over her head. Marge had been right. He never should have kissed Dorothy. But then what was the harm? He stood. “Now’s fine.”
She scampered around his desk and into his arms, wrapping hers around him. She licked her lips, stretched up on her tiptoes, then tilted her head back. He kissed her, soft at first, then responded with more passion than he intended, rather enjoying her close presence hard against him.
When he pulled back, she pressed in, buried her head against his chest, and squeezed his middle tight. Deep inside, a spark flickered, some long dormant fire ignited after those many years. He leaned back. It had been too long.
She slithered off his chest and backed away to arm’s length. Her eyes sparkled as she nodded toward his bedroom then slipped her hand into his. She tugged a little, but he didn’t budge.
“Wouldn’t be right.”
She closed her eyes, pouted her bottom lip, then nodded ever so slowly. “I know, but - ” She let go of his hand and wiped her cheek. “I want you to know I had lots of fun being here, Dub, and I’ll never forget you.”
“Keep in touch. I’d like to see you at the wedding.”
“Oh, you can count on me being there. Just let me know when and where.” She patted her pocket, the one where she stashed the check. “Will I see you in the morning?”
“I’ll be around.”
She backed to the door, blew him a kiss then disappeared.
He licked his lips, and promised himself that he’d remember how she tasted, the light touch of her lips, the hint of peach. He shook his head. Shame he couldn’t have been born a sultan. No, he could only choose one, only marry one. Actually, one was all he wanted. That is, if the one was still game once the game was all over.
* *
The merry month of May arrived. That’s what Nancy always called it, then she’d burst into song. Preston was pretty sure it was from a musical, but wouldn’t have been able to name that tune for double his riches. For the first three weeks, he couldn’t settle on the next way to decide who went home.
He was beginning to dislike this game a little himself. Then with only four days to go, fortune interceded. A button popped off of his favorite work shirt. He retrieved the small disc of bone then placed it and the shirt on his dresser.
The idea, unlike most, didn’t jump on him in a flash. Instead, it seeped in as he studied the button. Before he realized what happened, he’d claimed the thought as his own. Then he spent a while pondering the ramifications. Clad only in his T-shirt and underwear, he marched to his desk and put his new plan into action.
After dinner that same evening, he lingered at the table while the ladies cleaned up, then asked Vicki to hold up on starting the dishwasher and invited them all back.
“I’ve decided what we’re going to do next.” He nodded at Marge. “And I’ve been asked to explain why I’m doing this the way I am.”
“In the morning, you’re all going to Dallas.” He rocked back in his chair and waited. The silence circled like a lone turkey vulture signaling the flock, then the ladies couldn’t stand it any longer.
“What for?” Vicki’s velvety alto drowned out the others as they all talked over each other.
“A little shopping and whatever e
lse you want.”
“You sure must want a wife who’s a good shopper, Dub.”
“Thought that’s what all wives loved to do.”
She smiled. “So can we party all night and sleep all day?”
“If that’s what you want, but I don’t think that’ll get you another month.”
Marge sighed. “So this is another contest?”
“Of sorts, I guess.” He patted his shirt pocket. “But with another set of rules.”
Vicki held out her hand. “Do we get a peek?”
“No, but this trip, you buy for me.”
“For you? Like what?” Vicki seemed to have appointed herself spokesperson.
“Whatever you think I need.”
“What about wants?”
“What about them?”
Natalie grabbed Vicki’s arm. “He’s not going to tell us, are you, Dub?”
“Smart lady.” He smiled. “I will tell you this. What you do or don’t do when you’re not shopping will count half or more of your score.”
Holly raised her hand. “What kind of budget are we on?”
“My bank’s overnighting a MasterCard for each of you. It’ll have a five thousand limit.” He stared at Vicki. “Don’t be going over.”
She threw her hands up as if Hayden Tilden from LAWDOG, the new novel he was reading, had hollered stick ’em up. “Wouldn’t dream of it. Not me, not after Canton.”
“Good, now, as to the why.” He looked at each in turn, starting with Vicki to his left and ending with Marge. “When I was thirty, I met Nancy who was eighteen.” He shook his head. “The economy had tanked, and I couldn’t get a job offshore, so I went to work for the railroad.
“Lived in an apartment in Oak Cliff. It so happened that my Nancy’s grandparents lived in the same complex. She and I met one Saturday at the pool.” He held up his index finger then swiped a slash in the air. “First stroke of luck. Had a flat that morning, or I’d have gone over to a buddy’s house and missed her.” He added a second slash.
“Her uncle happened to be late that evening when I walked her back to her grandparents’ apartment, so his chair at this big family poker game they had going was empty.” He drew the third imaginary notch. “A little after midnight, I caught a good hand, Nancy’s father thought he had one better.” A fourth slash.
