Blackout by Keith R. A. DeCandido

Author:Keith R. A. DeCandido
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Simon Pulse

Chapter Eleven

New York City

July 10, 1977

1:30 a.m.

About time my luck started changing, Charlie thought as he got the final hole card from the dealer—a young man with a large Afro, wearing a frilled tuxedo. He had given Charlie the nine of clubs, which matched up nicely with the other two hole cards he’d been dealt from the start—an ace and a jack of clubs—and the other two clubs he had in front of him. This gave him a flush, which was much more impressive than the three of a kind the other players probably figured he had, given the way he was betting. Not that it was totally off base for them to think—he actually did have three jacks. The way Charlie saw it, Lee had at least three kings—he couldn’t have had a fourth one, because Clyde had one showing before he folded—and Pete was probably just bluffing.

This flush is guaranteed, he thought as Pete raised the bet by a hundred dollars, which Lee then raised another five hundred. Charlie calmly called; Pete stared at his cards for a while, then took a long drag on his cigarette and stroked the big feather that stuck out of the brim of his hat. Charlie kept his poker face on, but inside he was smiling—Pete only stroked the feather when he was bluffing.

Pete finally raised another five hundred. Lee studied his cards while puffing on his cigar, and then threw in another five hundred to call.

Confident in his ace-high flush, Charlie put in five hundred to also call. He didn’t even hesitate, even though calling this bet would leave him with only fifty in chips. He leaned back and lit another cigarette of his own.

The dealer said, “Gentlemen, flip your cards.”

Smiling broadly, his gold tooth showing, Charlie said, “You got the other king, don’tcha, my man?”

Lee nodded. “Yeah.”

Charlie flipped over the ace, jack, and nine. “Well too bad, sucker, ’cause I got me an ace-high flush.”

Giving Charlie a smile of his own, Lee calmly flipped over his other king—and the pair of fours he had to go with it. A full house, which beat a flush.

Son of a bitch! Charlie couldn’t believe it. It was an ace-high flush! How could this fool beat him?

But beat him he did. Again. It was the fourth time tonight Charlie had a sure-thing hand go bad on him.

The dealer used his rake to push all the chips in the center of the circular felt table toward Lee.

Disgusted, Charlie stubbed out his cigarette and got up from the table, grabbing his two twenty-five-dollar chips.

“Be cool, brother,” Lee said. “It’s just the way the game is played.”

“Kiss my ass,” Charlie muttered as he walked over to the blackjack table.

Shoulda known my luck would run out, Charlie thought. He’d been coming to this underground casino twice a month for the past year. Every other Saturday, like clockwork, Charlie would take the paycheck he’d gotten the previous day, cash it at the joint on Amsterdam Avenue, and then come here to make the money grow.

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