Plugged

Vic does not bite on that hook. ‘My mother was wasted by two thirty every afternoon. I raised myself. I built everything I have.’

‘Let the girls go, Vic. Wipe their slate. Tell you what. You let those two out of here all square and you can keep my salary.’

I find it hard to believe that I’m saying this. Simon Moriarty would be writing I told you so in that little notebook of his. All capitals.

‘Hey, you hear that, AJ? Big noble McEvoy, giving it up for the ladies. They only owe me a couple of weeks wages; maybe they’ll win it back.’

‘And maybe hell will freeze over. What do you say, Vic? It would save me having to get angry.’

Vic has an answer to that. ‘Don’t worry, McEvoy. You get angry and I will fucking shoot you, make no mistake. Obviously I hope it doesn’t come to that.’

He’s not lying. Vic shot a drunk about eighteen months ago. He didn’t enjoy the intense police scrutiny and swears often and loudly that the next person he shoots is going to absolutely deserve it.

‘Come on, Vic. Keep my money, let them go. They’re too skinny to work here.’

‘Hey!’ says one of the girls.

The other pinches her friend’s bare arm. ‘Shut up, Valerie. The old bald guy is trying to help.’

This gets a big laugh from Vic and AJ. Even Brandi has a titter.

‘Make you a deal, doorman,’ grins Vic, in a good mood now. ‘You wanna save these two? You wanna free them from my evil clutches? I’ll give you chips for your wages and you try to win the ladies’ money back.’

I should have seen this coming. This is Vic’s answer to everything. He once suggested it to an IRS guy.

‘Not happening. I haven’t played cards since the army.’

Vic flaps his lips. ‘Everything is since the army with you. I haven’t played cards since the army, I haven’t defused a mine since the army, I haven’t killed anyone since the army.’ He winks at Brandi, going for the big laugh. ‘I hope you don’t mind me saying, but you’ve been one boring motherfucker since you quit that army.’

AJ cracks up. Brandi actually gives Vic a round of applause.

‘I’m not playing, Victor.’

‘Then stop breathing my air, doorman, and let me get on with my game.’

The smarter of the girls shoots me a look of skeletal desperation. She has caught a glimpse of her future and is beyond terrified.

I grind my teeth. Another situation I do not want.

‘Shit, Christ, bollocks. Okay, Vic. A couple of hands to get the girls clear. How far down are they?’

Vic’s grin is like a smear of butter. ‘Twelve hundred. Plus the vig.’

I pull out a chair violently. ‘Fuck your interest. They’ve been here half an hour.’

‘Touchy.’

‘Screw you, Jones,’ I say, settling into the chair. ‘You’re not my boss any more, so you don’t get the respect you never deserved. And put out that cigar. Smoke gets in my eyes and I can’t tell diamonds from hearts.’

Vic screws the fat stogie into an ashtray. ‘What’s the matter? You quit smoking when you left the army?’

AJ almost hacks up a lung.

‘You tell your cousin to stop laughing. He might crap a statue.’

A single squeak of laughter shoots from between Brandi’s ruby lips and flies around the room like a canary.

‘Are we playing or talking?’ says Vic, putting on his game face.

I snap my fingers at AJ. ‘Gimme some chips. Two grand mixed.’

Vic clears the order with a slow blink, and soon four towers of chips list before me. I straighten them with forefinger and thumb while Vic takes a slug out of his refreshed cocktail.

‘What’s the game?’ he asks.

‘Straight poker,’ I shoot back. ‘Nothing wild, no wrinkles. All face down. Five and three, that’s it.’

Vic nods. He’s giving me some latitude because he’s a player and I’m an amateur.

‘Straight poker it is. Brandi, honey, get McEvoy something from the bar. What do you need? Shit, all this time and I don’t even know what you drink.’

I shake my head. ‘You stay right where you are, Brandi honey. I don’t need you behind me feeding the boss my figures. In fact, I want to see you in front of me at all times.’

Brandi pouts, cocking her hip, boosting her breasts high with crossed forearms.

‘Shit, Dan. That hurts.’

‘Sure. Whatever. Also, keep that compact in your bag. You know, the one with the mirror.’

Vic chuckles, not in the least offended that I have more or less accused him of being a lifelong cheat. ‘I guess you better stay where you are, honey. AJ, you in?’

‘No, he is not in,’ I say before AJ can answer. ‘Poker is not supposed to be a team sport. One on one.’

Vic is getting a little pissed now. ‘Okay, doorman. Is that it? Any more rules? Just tell me, because I don’t want you bitching when I clean you out.’

‘We play for the girls first,’ I say. ‘The smart one deals.’

‘Which is the smart one?’

I nod at the terrified girl, a skinny brunette whose blotted mascara makes her look like a skull. She doesn’t have the hope in her to smile.

‘The one who knows how much trouble she’s in. After I dig the girls out, we play for my salary.’

Vic shrugs, the magnanimous monarch. ‘Green is green, doorman. The order it comes in doesn’t matter to me.’

The girl deals. She’s so nervous that she flips a couple of cards and has to start again. Finally Vic and I have five apiece. Too late to back out now.

I check my cards, fanning them inside the clam shells of my hands.

Two kings, not a bad start.

I suppose, Ghost Zeb grudgingly agrees. Maybe you know what you’re doing.

Half an hour later I’m down to my last hundred bucks in chips.

Moron, says Ghost Zeb.

‘Moron,’ says Vic, and I cut him a suspicious look.

‘What?’

‘Moron,’ he repeats. Obviously I have been emasculated by my unlucky streak. ‘You come into my club and try to take me on. Me! Victor Jones. You know how many guys have taken a beating here?’

‘It’s two grand, Vic. Get a grip.’

‘Two grand more that these lovely ladies owe.’

‘No,’ I protest. ‘I lost my wages, that’s all.’

Vic chews an unlit cigar. ‘No, no, fuck that. You said we were playing for the girls first.’

‘Those chips were my wages. Anything I won was to get these two out of the shit-pile they’re in.’

AJ is snuffling and snorting, beads of sweat standing out on his red forehead. Begging to be turned loose. But Vic holds him back with a frown, magnanimous in his good fortune.

‘Any way you look at it, McEvoy, these pretty things are still in the hole. You ain’t saved nobody. Not since the army.’

That joke is getting old.

‘I’ve got a hundred bucks left on the table. You never know, my luck might be about to change.’

Vic lights his cigar, twisting it slowly for an even burn. He’s past pretending to give a shit what I think.

‘One more hand. Why not? After today, doorman, you’re gonna have to borrow a pot to piss in. I’ll give you a good rate on one of those.’

‘Very funny, Vic. Let’s play cards.’

It’s the macho thing to say, but I don’t feel very tough. Vic is crucifying me. Maybe Simon Moriarty was right and I am totally trans-parent.

A good dealer can land five cards right on top of each other so the corners match up. This girl is so rattled,