The Wild Card by Mark Joseph

Author:Mark Joseph
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: St. Martin's Press
Published: 2011-06-06T04:00:00+00:00

25

Foghorns and sirens moaned in the distance, klaxons of danger and distress. Closer, a streetcleaner whirred down New Montgomery, sweeping away bottles, memories, and cigarette butts. Inside the Enrico Caruso Suite the hefty pot from the last unfinished hand was pushed discreetly to one side, protected by Nelson’s gun and cuffs. Dean continued to snore loudly on the couch while Charlie, fidgety and sweating, sat at the card table watching Alex cheat at solitaire.

“You look twitchy,” Alex commented dryly without looking up from the array of cards. “I bet you never read that book on Zen.”

“You wanna talk about Zen Buddhism at a time like this? Jesus. You can play the eight of diamonds.”

“No kibitzing! Four in the morning is a fine time to practice Zen. Perhaps I should compose a Tao of Poker. I’m sure it would be a best-seller.”

Charlie poured two shots of Dean’s rum, passed one to Alex, and asked, “Why do you cheat?”

“I cheat at everything except poker.”

“Think they’ll come back?”

Simultaneously revealing and concealing a Zen-like fortitude, Alex sighed and resigned himself to answering Charlie’s impossible questions. “Nelson will, to collect his piece if nothing else,” he said, giving Nelson’s pistol a friendly pat. “There’s no telling about Bobby.”

“What would you do if you were Bobby?”

“Don’t be a twit. How would I know?”

“What if Nelson can’t talk him into coming back? What if he goes to the cops?”

“Come on, Charlie, take it easy. What are you afraid of?”

“You know damned well. Prison. San Quentin. Lethal injection.”

“Ooo, let’s be melodramatic, whaddaya say? If it comes to that, you can run away to South America, and if that isn’t appealing, you can jump off the bridge. What the hell, you can turn Japanese and slit open your belly. It’s considered an honorable way out of an untenable situation. Maybe you can get Dean to whack off your head, just to complete the ritual.”

“I’m not gonna jump off the damned bridge, but you better believe I’ve thought about taking off,” Charlie said. “But then what happens to Hooper Fish? I have eighty people who depend on me.

Alex looked up smartly, freezing Charlie with sudden intensity. “Your soul is in jeopardy and you’re worried about your business? You have it backwards, my friend. Your employees don’t depend on you; au contraire, you depend on them. If you disappeared without a trace, you wouldn’t be missed. The boats will go fishing, the supermarkets will carve up the catch for the great unwashed, the restaurants will boil lobsters for plutocrats, and the moon will continue to push the tides back and forth. Nothing you do is as important as you think. That goes for you and me and everyone.”

“I’m not like you, Alex. I enjoy my life. I’m not bored.”

“Boredom is not my problem,” Alex replied. “I’m tired. You see my Panama hat? In New York I wear a beret, and I’m tired of looking like a French peasant, très chic. What a crock. Merde! I’m a straw hat kind of guy.

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