Carson shook his head and looked down at the pavement.
“Good. Now, look, I know this whole deal freaks you the hell out, but it’s a good thing. You’ve done every job perfectly so far, so this is a promotion. You should be glad.”
“Yeah, I’m climbing the corporate ladder now.”
“Not what I meant. Having someone squeaky clean like you means we don’t get cops pokin’ around with questions when a job needs doin’. That’s worth money to us. Every time you take care of something for us, the boss knocks a little off what you owe. This job, it’s worth a lot more than the ones you did before. You may not know it, but that’s what you want.”
“Look, I’m not trying to piss you off, but this isn’t me. I don’t do this kind of thing!”
“Bullshit,” Chops countered. “I did a little poking around. I know some of the shit you pulled, like in Afghanistan and Somalia.” Carson’s head fell. He hadn’t expected this man to know anything about that. “Plus, you should have thought of that before you bet everything you had on four-of-a-kind in a back-room card game.”
The son of a bitch was right. Carson had won a nice chunk of money during his time in the Navy, playing poker on ships and planes to and from deployments. After his discharge, seeking escape from the grim depression that enveloped him like a humid, overcast day that wouldn’t end, he figured a trip to the casino at Dover Downs would lighten his mood and maybe put a few bucks in his pocket.
It never made him feel much better, but he did very well at the tables, encouraging him to return so frequently that half of the dealers and waitresses on the floor learned his name, and he was sure the pit bosses and the security personnel did too. His confidence soared and he started playing in higher-stakes games.
One particularly cold and gloomy Saturday, he arrived early and spent almost 11 hours at the table, enjoying the free drinks that, even though watered-down, got him drunk and kept him there. He wasn’t drunk enough to make stupid decisions with the cards, but he was drunk enough to think he was too smart to lose.
So, during a bathroom break, he politely listened to the gentleman that met him just outside the restrooms and asked if he was interested in making some real money at a “private game.” Nattily dressed in a nice suit, Carson figured the man was a senior casino employee trying to recoup some of their losses by asking him to play the tables where the bets were not in the hundreds of dollars, but in the thousands. They would even extend credit to him. Buoyed by liquor and his current winning streak, he agreed without a pause. What a deal!
The passageway they took to get there was dirty and seedy, the walls of the room were bare cinder block, and the others at the table looked at him with glances far too sinister to be rich idiots begging to be separated from their money. But Carson’s only problem was how tired his arms got raking larger and larger pots from the center of the table. Seeing no end to his winning streak, he started betting larger amounts. He estimated his pile at $30 grand.
When he drew two queens as his down cards in the next hand of Seven Card Draw, he got a little excited. Of his next four cards, each of which was dealt face-up, he got another queen, and figured three-of-a-kind was a winning hand. When his hole card, dealt face down, turned out to be the last queen, he started seeing dollar signs. And when three other players stayed in with him, he got downright greedy. Looking at his up cards, they clearly thought he was bluffing and that they could beat him. For reasons he hadn’t known then but clearly understood now, they started questioning his manhood, even though he’d pushed his whole pile into the pot. Carson, heady with drink and anticipating victory, didn’t like having those buttons pushed.
“Tell you punks what,” he told them. “You think I’m a big pussy, fine, but let’s see how big your balls are. If I win, I take the pot and, in addition, each of you pay me one-third more. If any of you win, I’ll pay each of you what I bet and you can take the pot too. If the house has no objections?” Of course, the “house” did not mind one bit, and it felt sooo good to turn those three other queens over it took him a second to see none of them seemed concerned.
One by one, each of them turned over a straight flush in a different suit. One by one, they looked at him with the satisfaction of having totally duped him. One by one, they demanded their additional $30,000, which Carson didn’t have, not by a long shot. Even when he offered to divide his personal savings account among the three, he was well short.
It was then a man Carson didn’t know suggested he head outside and take a ride in the now-familiar Cadillac waiting by the entrance. It was there he met Chops and learned he would pay his debt off by performing tasks for the “company.” That’s why he had to tolerate being told what to do by this hood.
“Fine, but when am I free and clear? When do I get out of this shit?”
“Look, stop askin’. You do too much of that in front of Peetey and Lefty, and the boss knows damn well to ask them what you say that I don’t tell him. You’re done when you’re done.” He paused, looking around furtively, and in any other context it would have appeared comical. “But I’ve heard
