But would I be ready?
“For a prize this big,” I said, “maybe it’s worth being patient.”
“I’ve been patient, Natalie.”
“I know another year sounds long. I don’t want to wait, either. But—”
“You don’t understand,” she said. “I’m thirty-eight years old. You know better than anyone what I can do, and it’s still taken me twenty years to get a quarter-million-dollar stake together. That’s pretty sad. But I can’t do any better. And now I have this one shot. I don’t know what’s gonna happen in a year. If Victor wins the election, will he still host a poker game? I doubt it. If he loses, will he keep the game going? I can’t wait around to find out. January first is my exit plan. I’m not gonna change that.”
“What do you mean, ‘exit plan’?”
She shifted in her seat, took a deep breath, and shook her head. “Have you ever been to the U.S. Virgin Islands?” she asked. “Saint Thomas?”
I told her I hadn’t.
“It’s unbelievable down there. It’s paradise. Warm weather, great seafood, all those rich tourists looking to throw away their money in the casinos. But you know what they don’t have?”
“What’s that?”
“Enough Montessori schools.”
“I don’t follow.”
She removed the paper towel and inspected the cut again. Shook her head. Refolded the paper towel to a clean spot and reapplied it. “With a million dollars I can start up a first-rate Montessori school.” She must have seen the confusion in my face. “What, you don’t like kids?”
“No, not especially.”
“That’s because they end up like that idiot on your doorstep with the piercings everywhere. The little ones, though, they’re all right. But the school where I teach, it’s a travesty. It’s not just my school. It’s everywhere. It’s the system. The teachers’ hands are tied. The principals’ hands are tied. All the creativity’s gone. All the excitement. It’s like that everywhere.”
“I still don’t get it. So no more poker?”
“The players who play forever do it because they love the action. I don’t. And the cheats who cheat forever do it because they don’t know anything else. But I do. I’m good with kids. I don’t know. Maybe I’ll still play some cards. Or I’ll hook up with the local casinos, teach one of those ‘how not to get cheated’ classes. I really don’t know. All I know is, I’m done with this—done with Jersey, done with grinding out wins, done with having to rely on low-life partners. Not you, Nat. You know I don’t mean you. But no Band-Aids in your home? I’m just saying.”
“Let me run out …”
“No, forget it. The thing is, I’m tired, you know? And I’ve checked it out. There’s plenty of interest in Montessori schools down there. And with a million dollars, I could do it. I could get myself a nice place by the water, get the school going. I could have a life.”
I wondered how many American daydreams ended with an epilogue set in Caribbean waters. Maybe Ellen would pull it off. Hell, maybe I would. The way she described it, I had to wonder what I was still doing in New Jersey when I could be soaking up the sun and performing for rich vacationers. Then again, I sunburned easily.
Something occurred to me. “You said you have a quarter million dollars saved, but we need twice that. There are two of us. Two buy-ins, right?”
Her face became a frown. “I’ve got it covered.”
“How?”
“You don’t need to know how.”
“I’m your partner,” I said. “I’m putting myself at risk. I need to know where the money’s coming from.”
She glanced down at her hands. “Let’s say I’ll be taking a cash advance on the cardsharp’s credit card.”
What did that even mean? “Are you talking about a loan shark?” She didn’t answer. And then an even worse thought occurred to me. What if she was overstating the amount she’d saved? What if she was borrowing all of it?
“And what if you can’t pay it back?”
“I’ll pay it back. I’ll pay it all back on January second. We’re gonna win, Natalie.”
I still wasn’t sure how much she’d borrowed, but I knew I was no paragon of candor. I had yet to breathe a word about knowing Victor Flowers—about having been in his house all those years back, and about what he’d done to my father. At first I hadn’t told her because I was afraid she’d ditch me as her partner. Now it was too late. We were too far along. And I told myself it didn’t matter anyway, especially with more important things to consider, like Ellen’s still-bleeding thumb.
“Let me take you to the ER,” I said. “We have to know how bad it is.”
“I told you, it’s not bad,” she said, and winced. “I really want to get out of Jersey. So help me, I do.”
“Damn,” I said.
“A fucking onion,” she said. “A fucking fancy-sauce onion.”
Online, I found an urgent care center that was on her way home and open late. I offered to drive, but she waved me off, told me I was better off using the time to practice my Greek deal. I found some masking tape and helped her tape a fresh wad of paper towel to her thumb, and when she left I fretted, passing time with a deck in my hand. It seemed cruel for a simple slip of the knife to upend all our planning and preparation. I put the TV on and found a show where ordinary people sang their hearts out trying to become famous. When it was over I shut off the TV and kept shuffling and dealing cards.
Finally, my cell phone buzzed.
“I just got home,” Ellen said. “Four stitches and a tetanus shot. Could’ve been worse. I’m gonna get some sleep.”
“But how is it?” She knew what I wanted to know.
Silence. Then: “I don’t think I can deal the cards, Nat. Not the way I have to. Any other game, I
