Stone Junction

table, that even so young you already have the hairs on your ass and gallons of conjones. But’ – Guido’s booming voice dropped to a sad murmur – ‘I weel run over you like water runs over the lowlands.’

‘That’s why we’re playing,’ Daniel nodded, ‘to find out.’

‘Stanley,’ Rupert rolled his eyes, ‘may we proceed?’

The rules were standard: open or out in turn; checks could call on the second round but not raise; you had to bet a 7–6–5–4–3 or any hand lower. The format Stan suggested was likewise agreeable to all: rotating deal; a five-hundred-dollar ante to begin with, increasing as players went bust; a half-hour break every three hours and an hour every six, with twelve hours a day limit on playing time. Stan collected the stakes, each player except Guido counting a hundred grand off their rolls or presenting, in Rupert’s case, a cashier’s check.

Guido said disdainfully, ‘I do not soil my hands weeth cash or waste my time at the banks.’ He snapped his fingers: each of his beautiful young friends hiked her dress and removed a wad of bills from her garter. Guido, gnashing his teeth at the sight of their supple thighs, announced, ‘I tell you people, Guido Caramba weel not gamble money that has not known the warmth of a woman’s skeen. Now, eef our meeting ess done, I must take my friends here and return to my training. I weel see you manana.’

‘You weeel indeed,’ Daniel murmured.

The players gathered in Stan’s cardroom just before noon. They cut cards for seats, going around the table in order of low cards. Daniel cut the Joker, a propitious sign, he felt. He couldn’t have been happier with the final positions if he’d deployed them himself. From Daniel’s left, taking their seats around the clean felt table behind one hundred thousand dollars stacked in black and gold chips, were Charley Li, Rupert, Johnny Russo, Clay Hormel, Paul Schubert, Guido, and Bad Bobby – which meant that Guido and Bobby, the two strongest players, would usually be acting before him.

There were already close to a hundred spectators seated well away from the table. Clay Hormel, perhaps to rattle Guido, had arrived with his own bevy of young starlets. Guido’s caramel-skinned beauties, still in bridal-white silk, sat behind him. Guido had added a black cape to his tuxedo.

Daniel whispered to Bad Bobby on his right, ‘Guido looks like a fat Dracula.’

Bad Bobby barely nodded, drawling, ‘Yeah, and he plays like a werewolf.’

They cut for the deal, Guido winning the honor with the ace of diamonds. Each player anted a black five- hundred-dollar chip, Guido shuffled, and ‘Rainbow’ Schubert cut the deck. Guido shut his eyes and lifted his face heavenward, solemnly intoning, ‘God, I ask You for mercy on their doomed asses,’ and dealt the first hand.

Daniel held a 9–8–6–5–3. When Bad Bobby passed, Daniel opened for four thousand. Charley Li, Rupert, and Johnny Russo passed.

‘Hell, I always play the first pot,’ Clay Hormel said, calling. ‘If you don’t win the first one you can’t win them all.’

‘I like your philosophy, man,’ Rainbow Schubert said, also calling.

Guido looked at his cards belligerently. ‘What ees thees? A full house? I play the wrong game. But I call anyway because maybe the poker gods weel get eet straightened out.’ He set four thousand-dollar gold chips into the pot. ‘Teekets?’ he inquired sweetly, burning the top card face down in the pot.

Daniel rapped the table softly, indicating he was pat.

‘Nooo!’ Guido wailed. ‘Please reconsider.’

Daniel said sharply, ‘No cards.’

Guido shrugged with hopeless fatality. ‘Are you also pat, Meester Hormel?’

‘Not now. Send three.’ He discarded and Guido dealt him three cards.

Rainbow Schubert drew one.

Guido set the deck down, capped it with a chip, and looked at his cards for nearly thirty seconds. Finally he said, ‘I can’t play thees mess. I have two aces, two deuces, and that funny leetle man riding the bumblebee with hees finger up hees ass.’ He smiled at Daniel, appealing, ‘Help me play my hand.’ Guido turned it over: two aces, two deuces, and the joker.

Obviously he would draw two cards to ace, deuce, joker. Daniel suggested mildly, ‘Throw away your two pair and draw to the joker.’

Guido looked at Daniel with implacable fury. ‘I tell you sometheeng right now, my young one. You can fuck weeth Guido’s money because Guido, being a happy man, does not care about money. You can play weeth Guido’s wimmens because Guido, being a generous man, would never deny you their immense pleasures. But!’ he thundered, dramatically isolating the contradiction, ‘you cannot fuck weeth Guido’s mind!’ His voice softened to a reflective murmur. ‘You cannot fuck weeth Guido’s mind because Guido has no mind. He feed it to hees guts thirty years ago starving in Tijuana.’

‘I was just trying to be helpful,’ Daniel said, acting vaguely hurt that his intentions could possibly be misunderstood.

‘I will take two cards,’ Guido decided, discarding and drawing.

Daniel was slightly worried, not by Guido’s mouth, but his hand. Though a pat nine was the favorite against any two-card draw, ace-deuce-joker was the best two-card draw in the game. Daniel bet another four thousand, not a strong bet, but better than checking, since they would know he didn’t have a seven or lower.

Clay Hormel and Rainbow folded. Guido was squeezing out a peek at his draw. ‘Ah,’ he beamed, ‘a stranger. Look, I don’t lie.’ He laid down ace–deuce–joker–four, keeping the last card hidden.

Six cards will beat me, Daniel calculated, seven won’t. Damn near down to even money. He watched Guido’s eyes as he tipped the fifth card for a look. They glittered with excitement.

‘Yaaaaasss,’ Guido shrilled, ‘hello leetle seex!’ He glared at Daniel. ‘I call your puny