Fool's Eye

by Gregg Burton

  “Thank you, sir,” Malik said as Simon picked up the money and counted it once more.

  Simon showed no respect to Ace for being a gentleman regarding the situation. The only sign of gratitude he showed was a soft head nod. Simon counted out eight crisp bills and handed them to Malik.

  “Keep the extra fifty my friend. You deserve it. Now, excuse me, what’s you gents’ names?”

  “Just call me Mr. Leblac, and that is Mr. Daniels.”

  “Okay, Mr. Leblac and Mr. Daniels, you gentlemen were talking about a card game? Have any of you ever played Texas Hold’em?”

  Chapter 9

  The con was starting to get the best of me. Yes, the con was supposed to seem real. And did it ever. The rollercoaster ride was just taking me for a serious loop. I just wished Ace had let me know every detail of the con. That way, I wouldn’t have felt like I was the mark.

  I sat on the stool at one of the slot machines and watched the four men play cards. Malik was dealing from the dealer’s seat. Simon was sitting on the left corner of the table. Jim Payne was sitting in the center; and Ace sat at the right corner facing Simon.

  Malik decided not to play because he said he needed to use his winnings to pay off an existing debt. However, the way he dealt Simon all the winning hands, a stranger would have thought he had decided not to play in order to cheat for his friend. Ace and Jim Payne seemed upset because of the hands they were receiving. If Ace had a pair, Simon would lay down a three-of-a-kind. During one hand, Jim Payne had a straight, but Simon turned over a four-of-a-kind. That alone just doesn’t happen. Most of the money that once lived in Ace’s silver money clip was laid comfortably in front of Simon, and as was an unknown amount of Jim Payne’s money.

  Ace stared a Simon tight-eyed, trying to intimidate him, but Simon was just as stone-faced. Then Ace finally cracked a smile and said, “It seems like you got the best of me tonight.”

  “Just the luck of the draw, I guess,” Simon replied, smirking.

  “I guess so. I have a feeling you’re conning us, mister. What do you think, Mr. Daniels? Do you think we’re getting pulled along?”

  “No,” said Jim Payne. “I just think he’s a lucky son-of-a–bitch. His luck will soon run out, and all that will be mine.”

  Jim Payne pointed at the money in front of Simon and gave him a wicked side smile. Then he turned to me and said, “Say, sweetheart, can you get me a drink?”

  He picked up his empty glass and held it out to me. Although I was the only lady there, I still looked at him like, Who me?

  After he said that, Ace raised his empty glass. “I think I will take one, too, love.”

  I closed my eyes and prayed for the strength not to curse them out. What did I look like? Did I have on an apron? Did I have a handkerchief on my head like Aunt Jemima? I wasn’t feeling it.

  Nevertheless, I eased off of the stool. “Sure, gentlemen, and would you like anything, Simon or Martin?”

  Simon slowly shook his head and raised his full glass that was next to him.

  Malik said, “I’m okay, but thank you.”

  As I took Jim Payne’s empty glass, I rolled my eyes at him. He just cracked his pretty boy smile.

  “And what would you like, Mr.––”

  The door we had entered buzzed. I looked over to see Big Mike charging toward Ace. When Ace saw Mike coming, he stood and opened his arms for him.

  “Michael, great fight tonight. You put that Peruvian jerk on his ass.”

  “Hey!” said Jim Payne. “I’m still in the room.”

  “Oh, don’t be such a baby. Your boy got what was coming to him. He’s a jerk and you know it.”

  “As true as that may be, he’s my jerk. So, show me a little respect.”

  “Apologies, my friend. You’re right. He is your jerk. So, I truly apologize for my crude words. But, you, my iron-fisted warrior, are an owner’s dream.”

  Ace gave Mike a big kiss on the cheek. Mike bowed his head and humbled himself in front of his master.

  “I need to talk to you, Mr. Leblac.” Big Mike looked over Ace’s shoulder at us. “In private. It’s about our deal.”

  Ace tapped Big Mike lightly on the shoulders. “Sure, sure, just give me a few minutes to finish my game. Why don’t you go and sit at one of those slot machines and wait for me there?”

  “But this is important!”

  Big Mike’s words were sharp, and his eyes cut a hole through Ace’s skull. Ace, who stood there with both of his hands on Mike’s shoulders, looked back at us with a strange smile on his face. That look told me that this wasn’t going to end well. Ace then gave Mike a quick hard slap to the cheek.

  “I know this is important to you.” Ace’s accent became strong. His ‘S’ sounded like a ‘Z’s,’ and the ‘T’s’ in the word “important” were said with more power than needed. “But,” he continued, “I need for you to sit down and wait for me to finish my game. Can you do that for me?”

  I saw Big Mike’s jaw muscles working overtime, and his breathing quickened. I just knew he was about to knock Ace out. Instead, he took in a deep breath and said, “Yes, sir.”

  The word “sir” crawled out of Big Mike’s mouth like it never wanted to be said again. He lowered his head, walked past us, and sat on the stool where I had been sitting. Regardless of whatever physical pain Big Mike put on Manuel earlier, Ace had just mentally beaten Mike ‘The Sledgehammer’ to a pulp.

  I looked at Simon as Big Mike passed him. He just shook his head at Big Mike’s lack of manhood.

  “At least he can fight,” Simon mumbled to himself as he took another look at his hand.

  I had to admit that I was a little shocked, too. Even if this were a con, a slap like that would have definitely made me fall out of character.

  “Pops, can we please finish our game?” Simon asked.

  Ace quickly gave Simon the evil eye and then transformed himself back to the cool, suave man known as Leblac.

  “You know, you lack respect, Mr. Simon,” Ace said as he took his seat.

  “Did I offend you by calling you pops? My bad, but you are old.”

  “No, my young friend, you didn’t offend me at all. Just making an observation,” Ace responded with a smile.

  “Well, observe me taking the rest of your money.”

  “Indeed,” Ace said sarcastically.

  After I gave Jim Payne and Ace their drinks, I went and sat next to Big Mike. We had a friendly chat while waiting for the guys to finish their game.

  About an hour later, half of Jim Payne’s prediction came true. The half about Simon’s luck running out did, but unfortunately for Jim Payne, the half about who would be the final owner of the currency did not occur. Ace ended up with all the money in front of him.

  “I guess the tides finally changed, Mr. Daniels. I must say, I’m personally happy with the end results,” Ace said, pushing as much money as he could into his empty money clip and putting the rest in his inner jacket pocket. “Mr. Lawrence, this is for you.” He peeled off two hundred-dollar bills and handed it to him. “And since we’re done here, I have other matters I must attend to.” Ace stood from his chair. “Mr. Daniels, it’s always a pleasure.”

  Jim Payne stood, shook his hand. “Next time, Leblac.”

  “Indeed. And, Simon, it was a pleasure to meet you. I’ll be waiting for the day we can do this again,” Ace said, extending his hand.

  Simon reluctantly took it, but he refused to stand up. Ace chuckled at Simon’s blatant show of disrespect.

  “Michael, I’m ready. Get my hat, please.”

  “Okay, Mr. Leblac,” he said, standing from the stool. “Linda, it was nice to meet you.”

  “It was nice to meet you, too. Good luck with your brother.”

  “Thank you. I pray to God that everything will work out.”

  Mike rushed to get Ace’s white fedora from the hat rack by the door.

  “Since you’re standing there, Mike, would you mind getting mine, also?” Jim Payne asked
.

  Resenting the position he was put in, he answered in agony, “Yeah, sure, Mr. Daniels.”

  Jim Payne reached inside his inner coat pocket and handed Simon his business card. “I like your style, kid. Hit me up if you ever want to play again.”

  “The sooner the better,” Simon said, standing up to shake Jim Payne’s hand. Then, Simon put the card in his pocket.

  Ace noticed this. “So you do have manners?” he asked.

  I spoke up before it got out of hand. “I think it’s time for us to go, as well. It’s getting late, and I’m sure the cops are gone now.”

  “I agree,” said Malik. “Maybe next time I will get a chance to play.”

  Simon and Ace didn’t hear a word said. They just stood there staring at each other as if their looks could kill. I pulled Simon by the arm and guided him to the door. Malik was right behind Simon, giving him a soft shove as we walked out the door.

  “What was that all about?” I asked as we walked down the aisle of the store.

  “What do you mean? What was what about? That old fart was the one who couldn’t keep his big mouth closed. One day, somebody will shut it for him.”

  “Simon, calm down,” Malik suggested. “Was it about the money you lost? That’s just the way the cards fall sometimes. Don’t trip so hard. You’re letting people see your weakness.”

  “Yeah and what’s that?”

  “That you don’t like your old man. That’s why you were snapping on Mr. Leblac and not Mr. Daniels. You kept seeing Leblac as your dad.”

  Simon gave a nervous smile. “What are you talking about? What, you think you’re a psychologist or something? You don’t know me, man, so don’t start acting like you do.”

  Malik stopped by a row that contained gum and picked up a pack. “Look, I didn’t mean anything by it. And you’re right; I don’t know you. So, forget about what I said. Stick of gum?”

  Simon sized up Malik, seeing his frail attempt to make peace. He decided to take a stick.

  “Can I get a stick, too?” I asked with my hand out.

  “Sure,” said Malik, handing me one.

  “Hey, you going to pay for that?” yelled the cashier.

  “Damn, Papo! You act like somebody really wants to steal something from you.” Malik gave a half laugh as he spoke to the cashier.

  “Whatever, bro. Just pay me my money.”

  “Man, you’re always tripping.”

  Malik walked to the counter, still arguing with the cashier.

  I touched Simon on the back. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, I’m fine. I just hate to lose.”

  “I see that. You know, we really should be going. I think Quincy should have his computer fixed by now.”

  Simon looked at his watch. “Yeah, it’s after six. Honestly, I don’t feel like messing with that school stuff tonight. Do you think I can pick it up in the morning?”

  “Yeah, that’s cool. Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “I’m fine. Just call me tomorrow.”

  Simon had begun walking out the front door, when we heard a loud bang.

  “This is so messed up,” Big Mike said as he put a dent in the freezer next to the door that led to the casino room. He was alone and mad as hell.

  I ran to him. “Mike, what’s wrong? Do you need to talk, sweetie?”

  “No, I want to hit something. Yo, what the hell are you laughing at?”

  Simon was at the entrance of the store getting off on Big Mike’s anger. You could see Big Mike’s blood pressure rise as he moved me out of the way and started walking toward Simon.

  “What’s so funny, huh, punk? You see something funny around here?”

  Simon didn’t back down, but he stopped smiling. “You’re scared of that old man, but you’re not scared of me? Don’t let my size fool you, big man.”

  “I ain’t scared of nobody, you little preppy punk!” Mike pushed over a rack of chips that he was walking by.

  “What are you doing?” yelled the cashier. “You’re messing up my store!”

  “Fuck your store,” Big Mike said, pointing at the cashier. “And fuck you, too,” he added, now pointing at Simon.

  Simon still didn’t move. He just raised his arms like he was really going to fight Big Mike. I wanted to step in between them, but it looked like some real powerful blows were about to be thrown. Malik didn’t care, though.

  He jumped in front of Big Mike and said, “Say, bro, look, you don’t have to do this. It’s not that serious. Just calm down.”

  “What do you know, you little flat-chested boy. Move out of my way. This is as serious as it gets.”

  Malik rubbed his chest like he had just got punched in it. “Look,” he tried again, “let’s just talk about this. It can’t be something so bad that we can’t work it out.”

  “Look, birdman, unless you have one hundred and fifty thousand dollars, we have nothing to talk about.”

  “One hundred and fifty thousand dollars? Brother, what are you talking about? What the hell do you need that kinda money for?”

  Big Mike was getting closer to Simon, and Malik was on the verge of getting hit, too.

  So, I blurted out, “It’s to save his brother!”

  They all turned and looked at me.

  I ran to Big Mike and said, “Tell them, Mike. Maybe they can help.”

  Out of breath, Malik said, “Yeah, tell us, Mike…I don’t know…what we could do, but please start talking. Woo…anything is better than us fighting.”

  “What are you doing, Linda? Don’t get involved. This is not your problem,” Big Mike almost pleaded with me.

  “I know it’s not my problem, but you can’t go around beating people up. Let’s go somewhere and talk about this. I think I have an idea.” I looked at Simon, who still had his hands up in a fighting position. “Simon, please put your hands down. He doesn’t really want to fight you. Do you, Mike?”

  “Nah, my bad, Prep. Just stressed, you know?”

  Simon let out a deep sigh as he put his arms down. “No problem. No harm, no foul.”

  “Martin, is there a place we can go and talk in private?” I asked.

  He thought for a second. “Not around here, but if we go uptown––”

  “I’m not going to Harlem. I know a place, but we would have to take a cab to get there,” I told them. “Simon, I know you probably don’t want anything to do with this, so I will call you tomorrow. Okay?”

  “I think I’m going to go with you, if you don’t mind. I would like to hear your plan myself. Is that alright?”

  “It’s not up to me,” I said, motioning to Big Mike.

  “Big Man, you don’t mind, do you?” asked Simon.

  “Hell, the more the merrier, I guess.”

  “Hey,” said the store owner. “Who is going to clean up this mess?”

  “Papo, just clean it up and I’ll take care of you later,” Big Mike said.

  “Sure, Mike, but only because you asked me. If your little skinny friend would have asked me, I would have told him to go screw himself.”

  As we stepped outside, a yellow cab was coming our way.

  “Simon,” I quickly said. “Wave him down.”

  Without thinking about it, Simon stuck his hand out, and the cab driver stopped his car faster than I had ever seen a cabbie do.

  He rolled down his window “Where to?”

  Just as fast as he stopped, I was in the back seat. In New York, once you’re in a taxi, they can’t make you get out. It’s a state law.

  While the rest of the guys piled in, I told the cabbie the address, and he shook his head.

  “I can’t drive that far,” he protested. “I would lose too much money. Take another cab.”

  “I don’t care how much money you would lose.” I then addressed him by his name and cab number that was displayed on the back of the driver’s seat. “The law states that if I’m in your car, you must drive me where I want to go. So, please, start the meter and take Houston to Essex. D
on’t play with me, okay?”

  “Calm down, lady. I’ll take you. You don’t have to be so rude about it.”