‘Well, whoever’s got the most chips is doing good.’
Daniel ignored Bobby’s sarcastic grasp of the obvious. ‘I think I’m going to win it all. That snow hand broke me loose.’
‘It was a good play,’ Bobby said, ‘but it sure would have been interesting to see what you woulda done if Rupert had rapped pat in front of you. Beside crap your pants, I mean. But like I told you a thousand times, a good play is the one that wins the pot. That’s the measure of it.’
Daniel was about to reply when Clay Hormel approached their table. ‘Bobby, Daniel – good to see you both still in there.’ He squeezed Daniel’s shoulder. ‘Kid, that was a helluva snow you put on ol’ Limey. He’s still talking to himself. Tell you what, though – I sure as hell would have called you.’
Practicing his social graces, Daniel said, ‘I wouldn’t have tried it on you. You’re too tough.’
‘If I could have caught a few cards, I’d still be in it.’
Bobby agreed, ‘Yeah, you gotta catch the tickets.’
Clay said, ‘Like the ol’ saying goes: “When you’re hot, you’re hot; and when you’re not, you’re colder than a motherfucker.” And speaking of hot,’ Clay winked, ‘you guys are invited down to my place in Malibu for some serious party-time when the game’s over. Lots of gorgeous women and other fun things. Can’t tell, maybe even play a few hands of cards.’
‘We’ll be there with bells on,’ Bad Bobby grinned.
Daniel said more loudly than necessary, ‘It depends on how I feel.’
‘No matter how you feel,’ Clay patted him on the back, ‘my parties make you feel better. See you there, and good luck to you both.’
When Clay was out of hearing, Daniel leaned forward and said so evenly that the control in his voice was obvious, ‘Don’t fuck with my head when we’re not playing.’
‘You ain’t beat me yet,’ Bad Bobby replied without a trace of defensiveness. ‘Till you do, I call the shots. Clay’s Hollywood games are world renowned for a shitpot of lawyers and producers with big money, bigger egos, and just a tiny little talent for poker. And personally speaking, if I don’t win this freeze-out game, my bankroll will need some pumping up. So that’s the shot I’m calling for us. And till you beat me, you come along.’
‘Till then,’ Daniel said.
‘And besides all that, Daniel, I’m your teacher. I’m supposed to fuck with your head.’
Guido came on strong when play resumed the next afternoon. He’d changed from his tuxedo into a chambray work shirt and jeans, explaining, though nobody asked, ‘Now eet ess time to go to work.’
He went to work on Johnny Russo’s chips the fifth hand, taking half of them when he beat Johnny’s one-card 8–5 with his pat 8–4. He took a raised pot from Bad Bobby, making an 8–6 to Bobby’s pat 9–8. Daniel recognized Guido was hot and stayed away from him, the four-thousand-dollar antes slowly eroding his stack. But he couldn’t avoid Guido forever.
Bad Bobby dealt it. Daniel opened for twenty thousand with a one-card draw to ace-deuce-trey-four. Johnny Russo passed. Guido raised fifty thousand. Bad Bobby passed. Daniel had an impulse to raise all he had left, around a hundred fifty thousand, and either force Guido to fold or, if he called, let it all ride on the single card. He decided just to call, sliding two stacks of gold chips into the pot. He drew one card. Guido, after some thought, rapped pat. Daniel noticed the hesitation; Guido usually declared himself immediately. Daniel looked at his new card: he’d caught an eight, making an 8–4–3–2–1. But he didn’t know what to do. If he bet a lot and Guido raised, he’d have too much in the pot not to call. If he checked and Guido bet a bunch, he’d have to call. He decided to bet a little, hoping Guido might think he was trying to sucker him into raising. ‘I bet ten thousand,’ Daniel announced.
Guido looked at him curiously. ‘You don’t bet very much. You don’t like your hand?’
‘You can raise if that’s not enough,’ Daniel told him.
Guido thought a second. ‘No, I jus’ call.’
‘I have an eight–four,’ Daniel said, spreading his cards face up on the table.
Guido shook his head dolefully as he turned over his, a 7–5–4–3–2. ‘Put eet een a Glad Bag, keed, and set eet out on da curb.’
‘A seven–five?’ Daniel said with disbelief. ‘And you don’t raise? Guido, what’s the matter? You don’t like money? Or did you think it was a suction bet?’
‘No, no, no,’ Guido passionately denied it. ‘Eet ess jus’ that you play so bad I feel peety on you. But peety ess not a good thing for you or me, so soon it must be like God and the dwarf.’
‘God and the dwarf?’ Daniel repeated, immediately knowing better.
Guido slapped himself on the forehead, bellowing, ‘What! You have not been told of God and the dwarf?’
‘No,’ Daniel said, ‘but I have a feeling I will be.’
‘Yes, I weel gladly tell you how eet ess weeth God and the dwarf. Thees dwarf ess sitting one day in the cantina with many, many other people when God walks een the door, looks ’roun’, and says, “I’m going to shit on all the peoples een thees cantina – except for you, leetle dwarf.” The dwarf he ees very happy and he jumps down from hees chair and cries, “O thank you merciful Lord for sparing me, for already I have suffered very much being a dwarf.” And God tells heem, “Hey, I don’t spare nobody. I’m gonna use you to wipe my ass.”’
Guido laughed wildly while Daniel, without a word, tossed his hand in the discard. Guido’s laugh bothered him more than the story. Guido was crazy; he might do anything. Daniel decided to play cautiously until he regained his sense of balance.
Perhaps too cautiously. With Bad Bobby again dealing, Daniel opened for ten thousand dollars with a pat 8–7–6–5–3. Johnny Russo, who’d dropped to about seventy thousand, called, as did Guido and Bobby. When Daniel rapped pat, they each drew a card. Daniel wasn’t in love with his chances: A rough eight was good odds against one player drawing a card, but not against three. Daniel checked, prepared to call any bet. Johnny Russo pushed all his chips in, close to sixty thousand. Guido cursed the king he’d caught and pitched his hand in the discards with disgust. Bad Bobby announced, ‘I raise,’ adding another sixty thousand to the call.
‘I got nothing left,’ Johnny said, tipping up his empty rack.
Bobby reminded him, ‘There’s still another player in the pot.’
‘No there’s not,’ Daniel said. ‘I might have called sixty thousand, but not a hundred and twenty.’ He threw away his hand.
‘You got me,’ Johnny told Bad Bobby. ‘I paired fours.’
‘I caught a queen,’ Bad Bobby said, spreading his hand.
Johnny said, ‘Good call. I didn’t think anyone would expect a bluff.’ He pushed himself back from the table and stood up.
‘Don’t feel bad,’ Daniel told him, ‘I threw away the winner.’ He counted his chips. He had a hundred sixty thousand dollars, Bad Bobby three hundred thousand, and Guido around three-forty. He would have to play careful to catch up, look for a good clean shot and gamble on it.
Down to a hundred twenty thousand after Bobby snowed him with three nines, Daniel took his shot. He was dealing. Guido opened for a modest ten grand, Bad Bobby passed, and Daniel, with 9 –5–joker–2–1, raised fifty thousand.
‘Well dwarf,’ Guido smiled, ‘I wipe my ass early. Please put in all your cheeps eef you weesh to play.’ He called Daniel’s raise and added another sixty thousand.
Daniel looked at his hand again. It wasn’t likely he’d get a better one to play. ‘I call,’ he said, and put his remaining chips in the pot. ‘Cards?’ he asked Guido, picking up the deck.