Dead Man's Hand

by Steven Meehan

  With a playful grin on her face she looked at me and answered, “No you weren’t wrong. But next time I would thank you to let me answer for myself.”

  I knew that she was only slightly serious, I just took my verbal slap and apologized. “I’m sorry Allison it will never happen again.” I admit that I laid it on pretty thick but she was only slightly serious with her admonishment so there was no need offer her full sincerity. “Next time our ears will be graced by the perfection of your voice.”

  Scoffing Kelly couldn’t take my mock apology any longer and broke in. “Oh please Marcus.” I guess she was just too confused by all the playfulness, because she seemed genuinely upset over my obviously insincere words. “Allison might fall for your over-the-top complimentary nonsense, but I don’t.”

  Now by this time I was as sick of Kelly’s complaints as anyone else at the table but apparently not as upset as Allison. Because she beat me to the tongue lashing that Kelly deserved. “Kelly dear I know you aren’t willing to listen to compliments real or embellished. But I rather like being complimented especially when it’s over the top. Unlike you I encourage this kind of behavior, it makes me feel good. And with just how prickly you are I can see why you have yet to receive a single compliment about anything, ever.”

  Allison had done all the work and I should have left well enough alone and simply let Kelly sulk but I couldn’t help but add, “The one thing I cannot stand is wasting my breath on someone.”

  Allison must have approved of my comment because she gave me a wink that seemed to scream whether I won or lost the two of us would be winners in private. But after the quick flash of something intimate she returned her attention to Kelly so she could stare down at the woman who, from the looks of it, had hate smoldering in her eyes

  “William the bet is to you.” Everyone, including the dealer turned around and looked at Tyson, who had spoken for only the second time today.

  The shock of someone she thought of as mute actually speaking must have scared her witless because Kelly jumped out of her chair and broke eye contact with Allison. When her heart stopped racing she turned to face the steely eyed man and muttered, “It talks.” I was sure she had not meant for everyone at the table to hear her, but with the silence at our table we could have heard a pin drop.

  Fixing her with his emotionless glare he responded, “Yes, I talk. But unlike the rest of you I simply prefer to hold my tongue while I play. But none of you were keeping your attention where it belonged and that was starting to annoy me.”

  “Well this should satisfy you Tyson. Here is my extra forty grand.” William placed his bet in front of him. He was playing it very calm for someone fishing for a straight flush.

  After the dealer collected the floating chips, he reached for the deck and burned the last card before drawing the river. I knew what William was looking for so I decided to try and read Tyson. But it was like trying to climb a cliff without a safety line, suicidal. I would just have to follow my gut when it came to him. And since I was pretty confident that I already knew what William had, I really just wanted to know if the river helped him or not. So keeping my eyes fixed upon William I saw the slightest twitch of a grimace but only for a moment, and that was when I knew I had him. I mentally sighed with relief.

  Looking down I saw that the river had been the three of clubs, if it had been the three of spades I would have lost to a straight flush, which meant he had the five and six of spades. So instead of a straight or a straight flush he had a flush and an inferior flush at that. But that still left me with the mystery that was Tyson, what did he have? His stony eyes kept me at bay like a castle’s moat. When I glanced back over to William he was busy counting over his chips, and as he went he glanced at the piles in front of the rest of us. “Well since I’m the low man at this table I think I need to do something to rectify that so… I’m all in.”

  After the dealer confirmed the count of William’s pile I sat there wondering if I could possibly be wrong with my read. But I kept coming back to his reaction when he saw the river card. No, all he had was a flush, normally a good hand. It was just unfortunate for him I happened to have the best flush possible, I was certain that I would win the hand. When the dealer announced the confirmed count I was amazed, with two hundred and sixty-five thousand I would be over my starting half million. But that wasn’t my immediate concern, instead I was idly wondering if I should try to take something from Tyson’s stack. Examining the cards laying in front of us, a flush was the best available hand and I had the ace. So what was I to do?

  I only thought about it for a moment more before starting to separate my chips. “Well Will, I think I’m going to follow your lead.” When I had finished separating the piles one covered William’s bet, while the other stack would force Tyson to pay another one hundred and eighty-eight thousand. “Well my reserved friend, its four hundred and fifty-three thousand to you.” It was a struggle to keep my voice from cracking as I asked, “Do you want to see what I have?”

  Tyson simply stared at me, not with the lifeless stare from earlier but with a measuring look, as if he was debating with himself. With as long as he took to make up his mind, I figured he must be up to something, because there was no way he would fold if he had something. That or he was trying to place doubt in my mind for later on. One thing was certain he was a very skilled player and not for the first time I wished he had found a different starting table. Instead of simply pushing his cards towards the dealer like he normally did, Tyson once again broke through the scattered conversations. This time his words were directed solely at me, “Not this time Marcus.”

  As I pulled back the smaller pile William’s face was eager as he flipped over the five and six of spades. It was nice to get confirmation that I was right; too bad he was going to join the audience here in a moment. Through a smug face he said, “Beat a flush there Marcus.”

  “Too bad the river was the three of clubs. If only it had been the three of spades, you would have gotten a straight flush.”

  “It’s nice to hold flush when you’re chasing down a hand like that.” William agreed with that silly smile still plastered upon his face.

  “That would have been the best possible hand, had it been played.” I said as I was bobbing my head, I was trying to look like I was biding my time. Make William think he had won. Yeah it was a mean thing to do but he was just too pleased with himself right now.

  “I know that Marcus.” He said as he folded his hands right in front of his chin, and as he looked down at my cards he poignantly asked, “What do you have?”

  I decided to play it smoothly and so I turned over the seven of spades. And in that instant the smug look he had plastered on his face began to crack and peel away. Since the jack of spades was one of the community cards he knew the next highest spade would decide the winner if we both had a flush. And since he had the five and six of spades and the four and two of spades were community cards as well as long as I had another spade my flush would beat his.

  I let the time stretch out for as long as I could, but eventually the dealer prompted me to show my last card. I lifted it and slowly began lifting it up. I could see William’s forehead burst out into a sweaty mess. I couldn’t help but think that had William acted more like the gentleman he was supposed to be, I would have put him out of his misery much sooner. Had he been a good sport I would have just let him see my flush and it would be over, but he had to act like a spoiled child. So he deserved to sweat a little, or in his case a lot.

  When I had the ace in front of my face I turned it over so everyone could see and without a smile of vindication I simply said, “Better luck next time William.”

  Before anyone could really process William’s coming departure two of Dempsey’s goons appeared out of thin air to either side of William. One of the reasons why Dempsey used such a thuggish method to remove all of the defeated players from play was because sometimes one of those players would try something. I had seen it once today, and it ha
d been when Nicolai was bankrupted by Bella. As stupid as it was to try and assault Dempsey’s niece the man had made an attempt. And the pair had quickly stepped in to remove the flailing professional from the hall. Dempsey even apologized for the outburst before we got back to the game. The pair wordlessly helped William in his transition from active participant to sullen observer.

  Tyson looked over at me and again I saw something alien in those eyes. What was it now? Was that interest? Had my little act with William peaked Tyson’s interest? If I kept this up I would break him down like a little baby in about oh I don’t know, maybe fifty years. Though the fact that I alone had managed to bleed the stone, even by as little as that, well it was good enough reason for me to feel pleased. He must have seen this because he cracked a little smile. That smile did more to unsettle me than any of his dead stares ever could. “That was well played, Marcus.”

  “My hand?” Was that all I could think of saying in response to that scheming smile?

  Widening his smile Tyson shook his head as he replied, “No, not your hand. But rather how you unveiled it, well played.” I looked down as the dealer finished sliding all of the chips to me, but when my attention returned to Tyson he finished his thought. “It allowed William to think he might still have a chance to win while in the end you crushed his spirit.”

  For a second we all thought Tyson was finished speaking but I guess he just had to say one more thing. “Though I have to admit I thought you were bluffing. I’m very glad I didn’t call you on that.”

  I found myself actually curious why he folded so I asked him, “Why’s that?”

  With his face falling back behind his stone etched mask he said without emotion, “My flush would have lost to yours.”

  As Tyson’s words sank in, I started idly fingering my stack. I quickly decided that I needed to get out from under Tyson’s glare. With a glance at the dealer I asked, “Do I have the small?” When he simply nodded I picked up the required amount and tossed it into the barren pot before standing up. “If you all would excuse me, I think I’m going to follow Allison’s lead and get myself a drink.”

  Without waiting for any kind of response I turned around and calmly walked over to the bar. I just needed a few moments of peace and tranquility. When I reached the bar I was pleasantly surprised to find Simon standing there, though he was flanked by a couple of Dempsey’s fauxtenders. While I was sure they could help with grabbing a bottle or mug of beer, the simple things, I was pretty sure Simon would have preferred a couple of real bartenders to help out.

  My intent was to deal only with Simon and I was walking directly for him, but one of the two fauxtenders tried to intercept me. With a curt wave I dismissed him altogether, I didn’t have the patience to deal with one of Dempsey’s inept minions, not right now. I stood and waited as Simon finished what he was working on before I called out to him. “It’s good to see that a true craftsman working the bar.”

  Turning to look at me Simon smiled as soon as he recognized my face. “Well, unfortunately there isn’t much of a call for quality work. The players need their wits and those who have lost… well let’s just say they aren’t in any mood to have something complicated.”

  “Artists are never respected in their lifetimes.” I said through a genuine smile.

  With a lighthearted chuckle Simon tipped his head toward me as he replied. “Now you do flatter me.”

  Willing to banter with this man I dismissed his modesty, and insisted on laying praise on his shoulders. “Nonsense Simon, you are a true master capable of mixing anything with whatever you happen to have behind your bar.” Cracking a smile I added, “Though I think I’ll disappoint you with what I’m going to ask for.”

  “And that is…” Simon said deliberately stopping so I would be compelled to answer. He must make out very well when he didn’t have to work for Dempsey.

  “Just another one of your martinis if you please.”

  With deft hands Simon began to make the requested drink and while he worked he asked, “Typically I wouldn’t pry, but I’ve managed to catch a little of the tournament here and there and… have you been eliminated already.”

  “No, I just needed a drink.” I replied. “I was planning on just getting some water but by happy coincidence you’re behind the bar.”

  “There’s nothing coincidental about it, you’re not the only one who likes my skill set.” He said, flashing a look towards where Dempsey sat watching the tournament.

  Taking my attention away from Simon, I looked over at the nearer of the two fauxtenders and spoke, with an air of command that I hadn’t thought I would have been able to muster right then. “Would you make yourself useful and get me a bottle of water.” The man’s eyes instantly filled with annoyance, clearly they were not accustomed to being treated like nothings. But with that said he moved very quickly to comply with my request.

  When he placed the cold bottle down in front of me I said, “Just to show that there are no hard feelings between us hopefully you’re allowed to cash this in” and for some reason I tossed him a chip that I must have grabbed from my pile without thinking. And judging from the smile that blossomed across his face I guessed he would be allowed to do just that. Though I was willing to bet not many of Dempsey’s men warranted having the privilege.

  Looking back to Simon I asked him, “How much are the drinks?”

  “The martini is forty eight dollars.”

  Leaning in I grimaced as I asked, “And how much for the water?”

  “Eight dollars, sir.”

  “So fifty six dollars total then?” I asked as I reached for my wallet, which felt just a little too light. I started to thumb through my wallet and I immediately started to mentally curse the emptiness. There was not enough to cover the cost of the martini, let alone anything else I might want. I should have planned a little better than this. Taking a deep breath I told myself that there was no need to panic, I just needed to produce a little more capitol. Grasping the first bill I could, which happened to have good old George picture, I poured enough heat through my will and into the bill to trigger a permanent transformation. It cost me more body heat than I wanted to use but it was what I needed to do. And as the warmth flowed into the lowly bill the guidance of my mind transformed it into a portrait of Ben Franklin.

  I almost lost my balance. It was a lot of heat that I hadn’t been planning to use, but the last thing I needed was for any of the bills I used to revert back to their original form. Hence the extra body heat. The sudden chill I could deal with; that was why I had my collection of hand warmers. But what I couldn’t deal with was an irate Dempsey, so a few cold fingers were worth the extra trouble. Clenching my jaw, while trying not to appear to clench it, I pulled the newly transformed bill out of my wallet and handed it over to Simon.

  “I’ll get you your change in a second sir.”

  “Keep the change.”

  “Thank you sir.” He replied with a vigorous nod.

  Picking up my two drinks I turned around and headed back to my table, hopefully the hand I left was just about done. I also hoped that the interruption would help me block out Tyson’s icy gaze. It was exceptionally creepy.

  Chapter 9

  It was nice to finally win a pot. Not that this was my first pot of the night but it had been a while since I had won my last one. As I collected and stacked my new chips I looked around at the surviving tables and began to wonder why we hadn’t received an infusion of new blood. Since the start of the tournament five of our original number had been eliminated and plenty of the others tables had been removed, but the displaced players never made it to our table. Which was rather annoying since shortly after I had assumed control of William’s stack the table had cooled off rapidly for everyone.

  As I continued stacking my winnings Allison chimed in. “You’ve had quite the run of luck recently, Marcus.” Glancing from her smile to her fingers I saw her smoothly guiding a chip back and forth across her knuckles.

  Put
ting on a warm smile I replied. “Ever since William’s departure everyone at this table has had a good run of luck.” With a rather forced and disgusted chuckle I couldn’t help but add, “Keep in mind that we haven’t lost someone in oh…” Looking down at my watch I did the simple math before looking up and added, “It’s only been a couple of hours?”

  “Stealing little pieces of each other’s pile has proven to be quite the kill joy.” Kelly voiced dryly.

  “Has it really only been a couple of hours since William was eliminated?” Jonathon asked through weary eyes. His visible exhaustion made me glad I was so far able to keep myself supplied with adrenaline shots and caffeine pills, just never too much of either. With a smile I remembered the willingness of a chemistry teacher I once met to answer my random questions.

  “Yes, it has!” snapped Kelly, who hadn’t fared all that well over the intervening hours. “And since we’ve all grown cautious, it means we’re unfortunately due for another boring three hours!”

  “You are right that we’ve had to endure a rather tedious stretch of poker, though some of us have managed to keep our minds occupied.” And since I really didn’t care about her reaction, I shifted my gaze to Tyson and offered, “Since you’re the one most bothered by dithering about, I figure you must be going absolutely stir crazy sitting there and waiting for something to happen.”

  The closed mouth Tyson looked up at me and asked, “Can I assume that the meaningless chit chat is finished for the time being?”

  Every time I tried to stare down those lifeless orbs I got a chill down my spine. The man still unnerved me, and I did my best not to let him get anything more out of me than the barest minimum. So I looked straight at him and spoke with as little emotion as I could manage. “You’re the only person here I would have preferred never to have met.” And when he offered no reaction, not even a hint of surprise added grudgingly. “But I will admit, you’re quite the skilled player.”