Mr. Lucky

15

Gerry stopped at the Holiday Inn’s front doors. Looking over his shoulder, he saw Lamar give a short nod. He nodded back and watched Lamar drive away, then went inside.

The lobby floors glistened from a recent mopping. If there was one thing he liked about the south, it was how clean people kept things. The bank of elevators was next to the reception area. As he started to push the call button, an elevator’s doors opened.

A beautiful young woman came out and swept past him. She wore tight black pants and a clinging red blouse. Her gaze met his, and she flashed a coy smile. She was a few eyelashes short from being a supermodel, and Gerry watched her cross the shiny lobby in her stiletto heels, pausing at the glass doors to steal a glance over her shoulder. The look was just long enough to be an invitation.

He got in the elevator and pushed a button for the top floor. As the doors closed, he turned and saw the woman still looking his way. Before Yolanda, he would have stopped to talk with her. Now that he was married with a kid, that talk would take on a different meaning. It would be like chatting with the devil, and he didn’t need any of that in his life right now.

Tex “All In” Snyder was staying in a suite. The door was ajar, and Gerry peeked inside. A maid’s cart sat in the center of the living room. The place looked like a crazy New Year’s Eve party had just taken place, with stuff hanging from the walls and light shades tilted to one side. He spotted Tex sitting on a couch, talking on a cell phone. His trademark black ten-gallon Stetson sat in his lap. Looking up, he quizzed Gerry with a frown.

“Who’re you?” he asked.

“Lamar’s friend,” Gerry replied.

“Who’s Lamar?”

“Head of security at the Dixie Magic.”

“Oh, right.” Into the phone he said, “Well, I’m sorry I pissed you off, lady, but that’s life.” Hanging up, he barked in Spanish at the chambermaid, and she stopped her cleaning and left the room, shutting the door behind her. Tex pointed at a chair directly across from the couch. “How about a little liquid libation?”

Gerry waved off the invitation and took the seat. Tex smoothed out his thinning hair with his fingers, then stuck his hat on like he was about to be photographed. He was in his late sixties, with a face as rough as raw-hide and gray eyes that could pierce steel. Lowering his voice, he said, “Know what the hard part about being a celebrity is?”

“No.”

“Watching your mouth. That lady on the phone, she’s the mayor of the town I was born in. A week ago, a newspaper reporter asked me if there was anything unusual about the place. I said that the most unusual thing was that the population never changed. Every time a girl got pregnant, some guy always left town.”

Tex slapped his knees and guffawed. Gerry started to laugh, then saw Tex’s face turn dead serious.

“The mayor caught wind of it, and now she’s threatening to drag my name through the mud if I don’t apologize. Guess I eventually will. Then again, maybe not.” Tex rose from the couch and pulled an ice-cold beer out of a bucket sitting on the wet bar. Turning, he caught Gerry’s eye. “Sure you don’t want one?”

Gerry stared at the dripping beer bottle. His father had told him no drinking on the job, and he reluctantly said, “Thanks, but no thanks.”

“Suit yourself.” Tex returned to the couch. “So, what can I do for you? Lamar was a little vague on what you wanted to talk to me about.”

Gerry removed his wallet and handed Tex his business card. While the older man studied it, Gerry said, “My company has been hired by the Mint in Las Vegas to look into Ricky Smith’s winning streak. We want to be sure everything is on the up-and-up. The Mint asked us to talk to you and get your feelings on what happened.”

“Your father’s Tony Valentine?”

“That’s right.”

“Heard his name when I played in Atlantic City.” Tex put the card on the coffee table, then lifted his eyes. He had his poker face on. His features were stone hard, his eyes as friendly as a snake’s. “It’s like this, son. I got beat by a guy on a lucky streak. Ricky Smith doesn’t know shit about cards, but sometimes that doesn’t matter in poker.”

“Could he have been cheating?”

Tex smirked. “Fat chance.”

“You don’t think you could be cheated at cards?”

Tex gave him a look. “No. Ever hear the joke about the four Texans playing poker? One turns to the other and says, ‘I just saw Billy Bob deal off the bottom.’ And the other says, ‘Well, it’s his deal.’ Everyone cheats where I’m from, son. I’ve seen every scam and greasy hustle that’s ever been invented. I would’ve known if Ricky Smith was cheating me.”

Gerry leaned forward in his chair. “My old man has an expression.”

“What’s that?”

“There’s a paddle for everyone’s ass.”

Tex drew back in his chair. He picked up his bottle and took a long swig of beer. Then he put the bottle back on the ring it had left on the table, and pointed at the door.

“Get out,” he said.

Gerry went to the door. His father had told him to charm Tex. He wondered what his father had expected him to do. Tickle his ass with a feather? He turned to look at the older man. “Was she any good?”

The beer bottle froze an inch from Tex’s lips. “Who’s that?”

“The hooker you had before I came up. I made her in the lobby.”

“I don’t know what—”

“She was beautiful. Like a-thousand-dollars-an-hour beautiful. Nobody else in this dumpy hotel can afford her.”

“You’re grabbing at straws, boy.”

Gerry took a step back into the room. Tex hadn’t denied it, and Gerry said, “Hookers that work hotels make their johns meet them in the lobby and escort them out. That way, they can’t get arrested for pandering. This hooker didn’t have an escort. You didn’t want to risk being seen with her. Mr. Celebrity.”

Tex lowered his beer bottle. He shot Gerry a school-yard look, as if sizing him up. He pointed at the chair Gerry’d just vacated. “Sit down,” he said.

“Why should I?”

The older man broke into a smile. “Because I think I like you, boy.”

Tex went into the bedroom and came back with a leather bag that he dropped on Gerry’s lap. It was heavy, and the leather was old and cracked. Gerry peeked inside. Stacks of brand-new hundreds stared back at him.

“How would you like to make a quick fifty grand?” Tex said, returning to the couch.

The little voice inside of Gerry’s head told him to get the hell out of there. Only, he could not stop staring at the money. Fifty grand would put him and Yolanda out of debt. He told the little voice to shut up and dropped the bag onto the floor. “Doing what?”

“You know what a money farm is?”

Gerry shook his head.

“It’s a sucker who’s got more cash than common sense. There’s one playing in this cockamamie poker tournament. Guy named Kingman. Made his fortune building trailer parks. I’m playing him this afternoon in a private game. There’s an empty seat.”

“So?”

“I want you to be my partner,” Tex said.

“Is the game rigged?”

Tex smiled like he’d just said the funniest thing in the world.

“Now don’t disappoint me by talking stupid,” he said.

Tex drained his beer and let out a prolonged belch. The gambling world was replete with stories of well-oiled suckers who’d lost millions to world-famous poker players. The suckers were often cheated—usually by simple scams like marked cards, or professional dealers who were in fact mechanics. The suckers were allowed to win a few hands, then led to the slaughter. They were always square when it came to paying up. The money meant nothing, and later they could tell their friends that they’d played head-to-head with one of the greats.

Gerry stared at the bag lying on the floor. Half of the stacks had tumbled out. The money was singing its siren song, drowning out every single promise he’d made to his wife and to his father and to his priest in the past month.

Tex went to the minibar and stuck his hand into the bucket. This time, he pulled out two beer bottles. He came over and handed Gerry one. He clinked his bottle against the one he’d given Gerry.

“Partners?” he asked.

Gerry stared at his reflection in the bottle. The face he saw was the old him, Gerry the mover. Just one quick score, he thought, that’s all this was. Just one.

“Okay,” he said.