It Ain't About the Cards

Throw’m a bone, Gus. He don’t know how to play.

I don’t give a shit. If he gonna play at this here table, he better know how to.

Gus moved the dip from his left to right lower lip.

You hear me, kid? I ain’t give no two shits bout you. I jes want yo money.

Joe betrayed no emotion. He looked first at Tip and then at Gus. He shrugged and laid his cards face down.

Why you gotta be such an asshole, Gus? I know you don’t give two shits. But I ain’t askin nothin from you or anyone else. If I’m gonna win, I’m gonna win without charity. I fold.

Gus’s laugh transformed into a rattling cough; a lump of the dip plopped onto the table.

You learnin, kid. You learnin. And I’m takin yo money. Happy t’oblige.

They all threw in a ten. Tip dealt the next hand. A jack of spades and two of diamonds to Gus. A king of clubs and queen of hearts to Joe. A seven and four of diamonds to himself.

Looks like this ain’t yo lucky day, jo jo. I gonna beat yo ass again. Here’s forty bucks I know you don’t got. What you say?

Joe dropped two twenties. Tip folded.

We got ourselves a game, Gus said excitedly. Tip, flow dat river, quick.

Tip laid down a jack of hearts, three of clubs, and two of spades.

Ooh, looks like I gotta raise. How bout a C-note, kid? You ever seen a big Ben that wasn’t molestin women? Gus thought himself eminently amusing.

Joe still betrayed nothing. I’ll take you up on that, old man. How bout two C-notes for good measure. Can you afford that, you piece of shit?

Now, now, kid. Ain’t no need in callin names. Gus stared at his cards and couldn’t imagine Joe would have anything that could beat what he had. Still, he felt a small knot form in his stomach. He was close to his limit, and his wife would not be happy if he lost money that was supposed to go toward groceries. He tossed in five twenties. K, kid, two cards left before you lose yo money. You ready?

Joe motioned to Tip to throw down the next card. He did. An ace of spades.

Gus wanted to check but knew Joe would take advantage. He threw in a hundred he couldn’t afford to lose. I gotcha, Joe. I gotcha. You ain’t gonna beat what I got. He glanced again at the his cards, then at the cards on the table.

Joe knew Gus had something in his hand. Probably something that was beating him. At least a pair, which was more than he had. He also knew Gus had a bitch of a wife and two kids, not to mention a job that didn’t pay too much. Card games are never just about the cards. Especially poker.

Gus, you’re gonna fuckin love this. Honestly. I got a hand that’s gonna make you shit those fancy pants you got. You’re gonna stink from it all the way home to your wife and kids. He paused. Your C, he dropped two fifties. And another, he dropped four twenties and two tens.

The second group of bills made Gus obviously uncomfortable, a fact that should have immediately resulted in him folding. But Gus had too much pride. And what he thought to be a good hand, to boot.

Kid, you a major league asshole. I’m gonna have fun takin yo monthly paycheck. Or is that two months? You gonna wish you hadn’t come tonight, jo jo. He put down a fifty, two twenties, and a ten.

Tip took the cue to throw down the final card. With an anticlimactic slap, he dropped a nine of diamonds. Joe felt a smirk forming and quashed it immediately. Gus stared at the cards on the table, uncertain how to proceed. The winner had already won, except there are no winners until the final bell sounds. Or the fat lady sings. Or Norwood misses the kick.

Gus still hadn’t motioned.

All you gotta do is check, Gus. No one’ll think less of you for it. I’m guessing you don’t wanna fold yet, but you can if you want, Joe quipped.

You an asshole, Joe. A real asshole. I got a hand that’ll kick yo ass. And you gonna pay up real soon. He tossed a fifty. A sign of slipping confidence.

Gus, ain’t nothin personal at this table. Nothin at all. I just want the money. Show me the money, and then I’ll take it all the way to the bank. I got another two hundred for ya. Right here, he let float to the table the two hundred dollar bills.

Shit, was all Gus could muster.

Joe knew better than to push, especially since he had nothing in his hand. But he also knew Gus was paying no attention to him.

Gus heard his wife’s voice in his ear. Another hundred and fifty would be cutting into the rent. Already lost grocery money. Would have to borrow from her mother again. It wouldn’t be good.

The game had reached its apex, and neither Joe nor Gus noticed that Tip had slipped out of the room.

Gus stared; Joe waited. For what seemed an eternity.

They didn’t notice Tip enter, which meant they also didn’t notice the pistol in Tip’s shaking hand. Um, sorry guys, but I think I’m gonna win this hand.

Gus and Joe awoke as if from some strange entrancing slumber.

Gus spoke first, what the… what are you doin, Tip?

Look, I’m sorry, I need the money. They’re gonna break my legs if I don’t give it to em.
And I’m gonna break your legs if I ever see you again, Joe said. Seems like you’re robbin Peter to pay Paul.

Yeah, but they got ways of finding people. I can’t hide from them. I could probably hide from you better.

That’s fuckin stupid, Joe exclaimed. He calmed himself for the next question. How much do you owe?

More than what’s on the table, but it comes close.

That wasn’t the question, Tip. How much?

Two grand. And this’ll get me more than half way there.

Yeah? Then what. You gonna rob another couple friends? You’re an idiot.

Gus was still caught between what he should do with his hand and what he should do about Tip.

Look, I’m sorry. There’s not much I can do.

No, I mean you’re an idiot. Joe stood, wheeled back, and clocked Tip in the side of his head. Tip dropped the gun and sprawled on the floor. In that same instant, the card table ‘spontaneously’ collapsed, sending cards and bills to the floor in a magnificent crash.

Tip fled the scene with what Joe and Gus later determined to be about forty bucks.

Joe only chased Tip a short distance before realizing the Gus wasn’t exactly the most trustworthy person in the world. He therefore doubled back to the house.

Gus, who had fallen from his chair after kicking the flimsy table leg, dusted himself off and began organizing the cash and cards. He pocketed half the money and left the other half – with the cards – on the table. He was about to exit when Joe reentered.

Where you goin, Gus? Where’s my money?

It’s on the table, Joe. Time for me to go. My wife’s gonna be pissed. With that, he hurriedly walked from the front door.

Joe closed the door behind him and flipped the dead bolt. He counted the money, then the cards. All there. He sat and sighed. He had to find new poker buddies.