THE BLACK CAT by Scott Newman

Author:Scott Newman [Newman, Scott]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Published: 2020-03-20T00:00:00+00:00

ALL IN

Jon had been sitting patiently in the bar area for about twenty minutes. During that time, he avoided taking any more sips of the scotch; instead, he took time to study his opponents at the poker table to the best of his ability. The dealer was a bald man with a red goatee, was of average build, and he had the adept grace and professionalism of a dealer from Vegas.

Player One was an older gentleman in his late fifties, judging by his white hair, white beard, and the bags under his eyes; yet, he still retained a sturdy build. Player Two was more in line with Jon’s age. He had a thick auburn mustache, a jagged scar across his right cheek, and hair that was long enough to touch the top of his brown leather jacket’s collar. Player Three had short brown hair that was greying at the corners, a crooked nose, rough skin, and stubble all over his chin and cheeks. Aside from the second player’s somewhat-rock-star-like appearance, the other two men had a blander style. They were likely farmers or men from equally humble origin.

Jon had observed the group play four hands by that point. From what he had seen up to that point, the Player One was the best player; having won three of the four hands. By then, the group was nearing their fifth game. White, blue, and green poker chips were organized in a few small stacks in the center of the table. All bets were off. The dealer’s hand: three of hearts, nine of clubs, six of diamonds, king of hearts, and jack of spades.

“Gentlemen,” the dealer said, “lay them out.”

Player Three put his two cards out first: queen of clubs and jack of diamonds for a pair of jacks. Next, Player Two threw down the nine of diamonds and the three of spades for a two-pair combo. Finally, Player One laid out the six of hearts and six of clubs, winning the game with three-of-a-kind.

“Winnings to you, Mr. Giles,” the dealer said.

Giles slid all the chips in the pot over to his side of the table.

While the winner dispersed his poker chips amidst the small stacks he had before him based on their color, the dealer began gathering and shuffling the cards.

Without taking his focus away from shuffling, the dealer asked, “Care to join us now, Mr. Windborne?”

Jon was, once again, flattered by the recognition.

Walking over to the table and feeling rather cocky, Jon replied, “Why thank you, I believe I will.” He sat between Giles and Player Two, greeting, “Good evening, gentlemen.”

“Roger,” Player Two introduced, extending his hand in friendship.

“Jonathan,” Jon said, shaking Roger’s hand.

“These are Giles and Hobbs.” Roger said, gesturing to the two other players.

“Good evening, gents,” Jon said.

Hobbs tipped his head to Jon in greeting. Giles, more focused on organizing his winnings, merely raised his hand in a brief wave.

“Come to get away from the old ball and chain, Mr. Windborne?” the dealer asked.

“Indeed, my good sir,” Jon said before sliding the dealer twenty pounds.

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