Dead Man's Hand

by Steven Meehan

  In answer I leaned down just enough that I was able to kiss the top of her forehead before answering, “I believe I just did.”

  “Well in that case just make sure you’re not at my table when we start, I would hate to ruin our first date by taking all your money so early.” Her words were laced with such an inviting tone that I knew she was wearing a broad smile that everyone in the hall could see. But I didn’t care right then, so with a broad smile of my own I kissed her forehead once again.

  Chapter 7

  After a few moments of silence, that as far as I was concerned could have lasted a while longer, she tilted her head so I could get a good look at her face. With a warm smile she whispered into my ear, “Now whatever you do Marcus, don’t win my money. If you did that, I don’t think I’d be able to accept your offer of a date.” I knew she was only teasing me, at least, slightly teasing me. Her tone of voice held a mixture of playfulness and seriousness. “Thank you, for being you. You have no idea, what your kindness mean to me, or how good it makes me feel.”

  “Like I told you earlier, Bella. You’re not bound to either your father or uncle; there’s always a way out, you just have to look for it.”

  She sat there looking up into my eyes and I could see her thinking about the possibilities, and I could swear that she did see a way out. But before I could ask she whispered a reply into my ear. “With you, I think there actually could be a way out.” She said with a dreamy smile.

  After kissing her forehead for a third time I gave the room another once over, not that I expected to find anything from my seat, but I had to look. I knew there had to be a door here somewhere, but I still couldn’t find any trace of it. I took a deep breath and I decided to ask Bella what was going to happen next. Since she had been here last year I figured she had to have some idea about the proceedings.

  Matching her whisper I asked, “Since you already know about my ignorance, I don’t mind asking you a silly question. Where are we actually going to play?” Gesturing around the room I added in a regular voice, “I mean we can’t be playing here.”

  With a shrug she thought for a moment before she answered me. “To tell the truth, I don’t know, I’ve only been to one other tournament but based on that one…”

  “Wait?! I said as I laid my right index finger across her lips. She had only been to one tournament and she won it? Of course that was when I realized what she had been trying to say, so I lifted my finger from her lips as I asked the next question that popped into my mind. “What do you mean based on that one?” When she didn’t answer me I looked down and saw that my finger was still laying across her lips so I sheepishly removed it and waited for her answer.

  “Last year’s tournament wasn’t held here. My uncle uses a different warehouse every year.” She said it as if such extravagance was as natural as ordering a hamburger from some fast-food joint. But then with Dempsey, it might be the same thing.

  Once again I looked around and with a new perspective I took in the majesty of the room once more. And I was floored. A new location every year, talk about a display of opulent wealth. “What does he typically do with this place after the tournament is finished?”

  “Well here is an excellent example of where you benefit from being a genuine friend.” She squeezed my hand to make sure I recognized what I was getting. “All the woodwork and paintings are done by a couple of master craftsman that my uncle has his hooks into, so that doesn’t even cost much, from what I know, it doesn’t even cover the cost of materials. And that is amazing when you consider what just the time of a couple of masters would normally cost.”

  “Your uncle certainly knows how to get the most out of his connections, doesn’t he?” I asked dryly without bothering to hide my disgust. I had a certain amount of respect for anyone who had reached that kind of mastery of a trade and just like women and children I went out of my way to protect them from my scams if I could. And if I couldn’t I certainly made sure that they were fairly compensated for their time and trouble. After all fair was fair.

  “Well that’s what my uncle is best at, but there are some areas where he just doesn’t have that kind of pull. Take the tables and chairs for instance. As far as I know he doesn’t have any hooks into anyone who could craft them, at least not yet. He has to buy them at their regular price.”

  “That’s got to hurt his ego.”

  “Not really.”

  “How could he possibly not…” She reached up with her left hand and laid a finger across my lips bringing my protest to an abrupt halt. When I looked down at her she was smiling and I could hear the words she was thinking, fair is fair.

  When she was satisfied that I wouldn’t press on with my objection, she continued. “He sells the tables and their chairs to any of the players who want them. And of course he sells them at a substantial markup, he knows not everyone will buy the furniture. And since he has men all around the building he isn’t exactly worried about a player trying to take one without paying for it.”

  When she saw my stunned face she simply shrugged his shoulders. “He sells more than you might think, this is a unique experience and if you think about the people who are here it makes sense. Plus the fact that each year the design is different enough. While these are far plainer then last year’s, they’re still remarkably ornate.”

  “And he manages to sell how many?”

  “Last year he sold half of them, but that is something he enjoys.”

  “So what does he do with whatever stock he can’t sell? I mean what could he possibly do with tables that each cost a small fortune?”

  “Having already made a profit, he leaves behind whatever stock is left over. When the police eventually arrive they find the furniture with an attached note gifting it all to whoever happened to find the warehouse that year.

  I sat there, staring at the furniture, and started to calculate what the price tag of these tables and chairs would have to be. I finally decided to give up, whatever their cost a policeman’s taxes would be destroyed by such a gift, if nothing else. “The cops have got to hate these presents by now.”

  “That is precisely why whatever is found ends up being donated to charity and since everyone knows my uncle is the one who had them made…”

  I could see where she was going with this. “Don’t tell me that he gets a tax right off to boot?”

  “Now that would be all kinds of screwy wouldn’t it? But no, he hasn’t managed to get a tax break yet. But what I was going to say was that it doesn’t stop the charities from loving him for the donations.”

  With disgust rising in my chest I was beginning to find it hard to breathe. How had a man like Dempsey managed to insulate himself to such an extent? How could the people who were supposed to help those he exploited be thankful for anything? I was busy thinking about everything Bella had told me when she nudged me in the stomach.

  Looking down I saw her pointing to the interior wall directly across from the main entrance. There her uncle stood waiting for silence. “It looks like he’s ready to get things under way.” Glancing up she reminded me, “Remember we start at different tables.”

  “This tournament doesn’t pre-arrange seating?”

  “You’ve had ones that do?”

  “Always.” I answered confusion in my voice.

  “Well my uncle is a great believer in free form. So we can sit wherever we want. I’m hoping that I get a table full of the chumps to start.”

  Before I could reply she placed her right index finger on my lips again and then pointed at her uncle, who had gathered all of the attention in the room. Again I couldn’t help but be impressed by the range of the man’s voice. Without a microphone, at least not one I could see, and without yelling, Dempsey managed to speak at a volume that carried to everyone in the room.

  That was when I realized the room must have been engineered to carry someone’s voice from a few particular spots, including the doorway. “Well I think it’s about time to get down to the real busin
ess at hand. We have a tournament to begin don’t we?”

  A few of the more spirited billionaires responded in excited affirmation, again allowing the professionals and his men to tag the cannon fodder. But more telling was that Dempsey had timed their response with the opening of a pair of doors into the next room behind him. Now I remembered looking at that particular stretch of wall and I hadn’t been able to see anything that even resembled a door. Bella had told me that he had some master craftsmen working for him. More than anything else these doors spoke to the true level of their capabilities.

  The door had been so well crafted that the seams were practically nonexistent. Or perhaps they were hidden behind that interesting molding that ran vertically around the room, which seemed to make more sense. Well, I would find out for sure as soon as we entered that room, but I was certain that was how it had been done.

  Hiding the door’s seam was not his primary goal. No, the main goal was pure showmanship. It had looked like someone or rather something had ripped the walls apart. Dempsey was going for shock and awe, it would most likely fail to impress the scattered professionals, but the rich were certainly impressed.

  Addressing the assembled players, Dempsey said, “If you would all please come this way. We will begin just as soon as everyone has chosen their seat.” Instead of waiting for the players to enter first Dempsey turned around and walked through the doorway followed closely by his personal attendants.

  Flashing Bella a smile I leaned over and whispered mock annoyance and aggravation, “Well I guess that means we have to get up, doesn’t it?”

  With a sight chuckle she looked up and answered, “I suppose it does at that.”

  Standing, I turned and, ever the gentleman, offered my hand to help her up. With a smile, she graciously accepted it. Now that we were both on our feet I offered my arm as I bowed my head ever so slightly. She must have been desperate for some pampering because she latched onto my arm as her eyes were overflowing with joy. Arm in arm we started crossing the room, making our way to the newly opened doorway. As we approached I was able to see the hinges and lines of the exposed doorway, and now that I saw it open I was cursing at myself for missing it before.

  I had thought the room I was in had been the absolute lap of luxury. But as we walked into this new room, I saw an even greater level of magnificence. I guess I should call the room we had been in a lounge, and based on what I saw in here, we must have been roughing it as far as the social elite were concerned. You could really tell who Dempsey was catering to. After a small gasp rushed from my lips Bella squeezed my arm just a little as she whispered to me, “Don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone how new you are.”

  “No you don’t need to, I think I just did that for myself.” Though I could tell she was just as impressed as I was, despite being Dempsey’s niece. She had more than likely grown up with this kind of opulence, or had she? I put her background out of my mind and studied the room. I would just need five minutes and I could ensure my financial freedom for a good five years if not longer. How much money did Dempsey poor into these things? Was any of it reused? This room would have to be reused or he would go broke. “Does your uncle reuse any of this stuff?” I asked Bella in a whisper.

  “It all looks mostly familiar, so I’d have to say yes.” She answered with a whispered to match my own.

  “Mostly?”

  “If I had to guess I’d say he reuses the materials. But he’s very fond of never having the décor be the same. At least that’s what he’s told me.” She answered quietly.

  With partial understanding I spoke aloud trying to pull everything together. “So he takes these decorations down has them reworked so they’ll look different yet retain a slight sense of familiarity.”

  “Sounds about right.”

  The room was expansive and in the middle there were ten full-sized poker tables, like the ones you would see in Vegas or on the televised poker tournaments. But those tables were nowhere near as elegant as these tables appeared to be. Not with all the different gems inlaid into each leg. As if the gems weren’t enough, the tables themselves looked to have been manufactured from silver. I couldn’t see what the playing surface was made of but I was certain it would be over the top.

  Surrounding the tables was a walled off gallery, making the oval room feel more like the ancient Roman Coliseum than like a poker hall. Though with that comparison all of the players did appear to be standing in for the gladiators of old. I began to idly wonder who would be standing in for the audience. But that question was answered when I noticed that there were already people in the stands. We were a new form of gladiator. Where did all these people come from?

  Again my guiding light saved me from embarrassment. “More people want to be on the floor than can. For the ones who weren’t quick enough, they can still come and watch.”

  “But they didn’t come in…”

  “My uncle is very good at hiding doors,” she noted, pointing out the doorway we had just came through. “When you think about it, is it all that surprising that you didn’t see them enter?”

  “I guess not,” I replied sullenly. Well I had really screwed the pooch. How did I miss an exterior door? Granted I wasn’t given the opportunity to really examine the walls all too closely, but still I didn’t like missing this much. I pulled my attention away from the small crowd watching us to the light fixtures above. Now this was what put the room over the top. There were half a dozen handcrafted chandeliers that appeared to be forged from gold. From the end of each spoke to its center there was a line of diamonds strung up to connect the two points. There was other, more usable light along the edges of the ceiling but those chandeliers certainly put the room into its own class.

  Similar to the lounge, the walls were very ornate. But here there was only one bar to satiate the players and, according to what I had been told, this one wasn’t going to be open. With a slight tug on my arm Bella pulled my attention from further observation of the room and looked me square in the eyes. “Remember Marcus, different tables.” And with that she turned on her heels and went off to her right in search of an open table.

  Watching her walk off I wanted to go back to studying the room but I needed to find a table so that I could ensure we wouldn’t start at the same one, so I went in the opposite direction. Scanning the tables I passed two full tables that had already started, but I was curious to see where Bella ended up so I briefly turned around. And sure enough I saw that Bella had snagged herself a seat at a table but unfortunately Patrick got the last seat at her table. I shuddered when I caught sight of him, and I felt sorry that Bella would have to deal with him right away. At the same time, I was glad that I didn’t have to.

  Knowing that Bella and I would have our wish I began my search anew and came across a table that, so far, only held four rather good looking women and the dealer. While two of the woman appeared to be serious players, the other two looked like easy marks so I made myself at home with a grin on my face. “Hello ladies. How are you all doing today?”

  I took the fourth chair from the dealer’s right and saw some very different reactions from the five other people at the table. The woman to my left flashed me a warm smile in return but she decided to remain mute for the moment. While the two women to my right waved and introduced themselves as Simone and Tiffany, both were fairly attractive blonds. Having just met them it was probably unfair but I couldn’t help but think that they would be poster children for the dumb blonde stereotype. All the while the boyish woman across from me just stared at me with disinterested eyes. Clearly she was the Debbie Downer of the table.

  Well if the other two wouldn’t talk any more, I would just have to study them silently instead. But that was only after I gave the dealer a quick once over. He was middle-aged and, from the looks of things, happened to be losing his personal war against baldness. Though that did nothing to lessen the fact that he was very muscular. He had the look of a fighter in his eyes, and I figured he was definitely one of
Dempsey’s goons. I was surprised that Dempsey would risk placing one of his thugs as a dealer when I noticed what he was doing with his hands. The man was displaying just how familiar he was with a deck of cards, not to mention the dexterity of his fingers. With this dealer’s show of expertise I finally began to realize the extent of the diversity in Dempsey’s employees. It was mindboggling.

  I was eventually able to pull Allison, the woman to my left, into the quiet conversation I had managed to start up with Simone and Tiffany, but the boyish one still refused to even offer her name, so we ignored her. When Malone and Gregory joined the table they were happy to offer their names and more than willing to join in on the conversation as well. After about a minute or two the boyish woman finally introduced herself as Kelly, yet she was still not entirely willing to converse.

  All the talk came to an abrupt end when Tyson sat down. Up to this point I had the seven of us talking in a more or less natural tone, which was good for me. I have always loved to gather tells and other useful tidbits during easy conversation because people tended to let out their natural selves. Tyson’s arrival however stopped the conversation cold. No one wanted to be the first one to break the silence. But after a moment I steeled myself and asked him what his name was. I had to repeat the question a couple of times but I eventually got him to tell us his name. Just like that the fragile sense of camaraderie I had managed to bring to life was gone. The table sat in complete silence until William and Jonathan joined us, but with Tyson staring at everyone, all I was able to do was coax out their names.

  With the table now full, the dealer prompted Tyson and Kelly for the blinds. The two immediately surrendered their blinds and the dealer began the tournament at our table. When I received my second card I lifted both corners up and glanced down to inspect my first hand. I was rewarded with a pair of aces. With that pair smiling up at me, I couldn’t help but feel like things were going to go my way. Maybe I would be able to win this thing without manipulating the cards after all, and that would certainly make Matt happy.