Pokergeist

by Michael Phillip Cash

  “Oh, that’s just a gimmick. But it’s my gimmick. My choice. Got it, Telly? Don’t you feel sorry for me. I won’t stand for it. This is the best way we can save up to buy our own CiCi’s Pizza franchise.”

  “CiCi’s Pizza?”

  “Everybody’s got a dream, Telly. We need fourteen thousand dollars more. By this time next year, you’ll be eating pizza on us.”

  Dreams, it seems, are universal. Everybody has one, Telly thought. “If I make it into the Series and win, then you guys won’t have to wait until next year.”

  “Then you and Gretch will be eating free pizza for the rest of your lives!” Cheryl announced proudly. “Right, Daddy?”

  “Whatever you say, babydoll,” he agreed, and then he pulled her toward their rooms, leaving Telly to consider the black velvet sky.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Telly opened the door of the shabby apartment. His folks wouldn’t even visit him here; they were that upset with the place. Still, it was affordable, and he knew they wouldn’t be there for long.

  Gretchen looked up from the rusty-orange sofa, a romance book in her hands. “How’d you do, Tel?” she asked hopefully.

  “Well, I almost won a hand.” He threw the key card onto the scarred dresser top where it skidded through the dust. He took off his glasses to rub his tired eyes.

  Gretchen stood to embrace him, but he waved her off, pointing to his speckled pants. “Don’t come near me till I change.” He shrugged. “A bride got sick on me.”

  Gretchen sighed. “Maybe it’s good luck.”

  “It’s my luck,” Telly responded from the bedroom, changing into sweats. Gretchen heard water running.

  “There is always tomorrow…unless you want to think about the job at George’s Cab Service.” She said it softly, but Telly heard her.

  “The Series is next week,” he said, as if that explained everything. “I know it’s been hard, Gretchen. It’s not like I don’t appreciate how you’ve supported my dream, but I feel so close.”

  He came out of the bathroom to see Gretchen’s lips pursed with disapproval. He felt bad—they had agreed that if he didn’t succeed, he would shelve the whole idea. But he just wasn’t ready to do that yet.

  The cab job…twelve hours a day, six days a week. A steady income, but no shot for real money. Once he took that, his chances for the Series were impossible. They had to last another week, just another week.

  “We’re so close—registration is Monday.” Telly came in to sit on the edge of the couch.

  Gretchen closed her book and turned to face him. She had been quiet the last few days. Anybody who knew Gretchen could tell she was concerned. Gretchen had turned inward. She didn’t want to burden him with her suspicions, at least not yet, but Telly had to get a real job, really fast. She worried her bottom teeth with her top lip, her hands twisting. This was all her fault in so many ways. It had seemed like a good idea a few weeks ago, but instead of bolstering his confidence, losing so many games was causing Telly to sink to a new low. People made him feel incompetent. It had the opposite effect Gretchen had expected. She had to get him out of that climate before he had a breakdown. She knew Telly, worried about him. It’s hard to keep getting up when you are constantly thrown back down. He needed something safe. How hard can it be to drive a cab? she thought. A few weeks and he’ll be back to his old self. If she were a gambling woman, she would bet money on it. Aside from that, they didn’t have time anymore for experiments. Their lives were about to change in a big way. She filed that problem in the back of her head under bad timing, figuring she’d spring it on him when they were more secure. Instead she said, “I know, honey. But we don’t have the entry fee anymore. I used it up for the car.”

  Telly sighed, his cheeks taut, and ran his hands through his hair. “The car…right.” Gretchen touched his face. Sophie jumped up to lay her paw against his knee, her bulbous eyes appealing. “So much is resting on me winning, Gretchen. You, Sophie, Cheryl…”

  “Cheryl?”

  “She wants to open a pizza place. It’s a long story, but I don’t know, I have a feeling, a good feeling. Something big is going to happen. I can’t give up now.” Telly took her hands within his own. “Just another few days, and then…I’ll give up.”

  Gretchen stood, her face closed, and pulled her purse from the closet. He was merely putting off the inevitable. It was actually harder watching him lose. Gretchen couldn’t understand what he saw in the whole thing. How could he not see what she needed to tell him? She opened her mouth to tell him, but instead huffed angrily, “That’s it, Telly!”

  Telly looked up, surprised. Gretchen never raised her voice.

  “Stop setting impossible standards for yourself. You are always trying to please somebody. You have to stop!”

  “I like pleasing you.” He smiled, and it broke her mood. She smiled at him warmly. You couldn’t stay mad at Telly. He was one of the good guys.

  “I like when you please me too.” She hugged him. “Take a step back and stop being so hard on yourself. You can’t save the world.”

  “I can barely save myself,” Telly said softly.

  Gretchen cupped his face. “I think you are the best man I know. When will you realize that? Stop trying so hard. I have to go.” She took off his glasses and kissed him gently on the mouth. “Try to get some rest.” She rubbed the red spots on each side of his nose and then replaced the glasses gently. “Thick and thin.” She kissed each cheek and then turned to leave.

  “Where are you going? It’s after ten.”

  “One of the girls called off. I figured we could use the extra money.”

  “Come on, I’ll drive you.”

  “I didn’t pick up the car. We still owe another two hundred. They won’t release it.”

  “OK, that’s it. I’ll go fill out an application tomorrow. I give up.”

  Gretchen smiled sadly. “Believe me, Telly. I know how this feels. Look, maybe I can get a payday loan.” She added, “For the car, I mean.”

  “Forget it, Gretch. I knew tonight was my last night. It’s over. I’ll walk you to the bar.”

  Gretchen shook her head. “No, you go to sleep. We don’t want you looking tired when you go look for a job tomorrow.”

  Telly shook his head and stood, ready to escort Gretchen the three blocks to the bar where she worked. They held hands the whole way, admiring the midnight sky flecked with silver stars. Telly pointed out constellations. “That’s the summer triangle.”

  Gretchen stopped to peer into the inky darkness. “I don’t see it.”

  “How could you miss it? Look, there’s Altair, Vega, and Deneb.” He drew an imaginary triangle in the air to show her their location. Gretchen turned to face him.

  “You are so smart.”

  “Yeah, a real Einstein. I’m just a font of useless information.”

  Gretchen grabbed his face, kissing him and smashing his glasses against his eyelids. “Never say that, Telly. You are the smartest guy I know. I’m patient, and I’m willing to wait for the rest of the world to realize it!”

  Telly took her hand. “Come home with me, Gretchen,” he said urgently. He had a bad feeling. He didn’t want her going into the bar. “Don’t go in there.”

  “Stop. There’s a fight this week in town. There’ll be a lot of customers tonight. What’s wrong?”

  “I don’t know.” Telly looked at the ground, feeling silly. They stood together at the back door near the nasty-smelling garbage. “What time do you get off?”

  A red mustang pulled in, spraying gravel everywhere. It jerked to a stop, and Gretchen’s boss got out. Rob Couts had a bullet-shaped shaved head, with beefy arms that reminded Telly of Popeye. In fact, that was what Telly called him, at least at home. He was short, but he walked with his hands fisted in a determined stride. He stepped from his car, his beady eyes moving down Gretchen’s body,
and briefly glanced in Telly’s direction. “What’s up, Radio?”

  “It’s Telly,” he replied, feeling the hairs go up on his neck.

  “I know. I feel funny saying it. Hi, Gretch, you ready for tonight?” He turned to Gretchen, his voice a gravelly caress.

  Gretchen’s shoulders hunched. “I’m not on for another fifteen minutes,” she replied. Telly watched her shrink before his eyes. He reached out to take her fingers loosely within his own. The air felt weighted; an electric current of tension sizzled in the hot air. A cat meowed, breaking the silence.

  “You the poker player?”

  “I like to play, yes,” Telly said defensively.

  “Yeah, I bet you’re a regular Phil Hellmuth.” Rob looked him up and down and then dismissed him. “So I’ll see you at the Series, right?”

  “The Series?” Telly asked.

  “Yeah, doofus. The Series. If you play, you gotta play in that.”

  “Of course—but I…I think we may have another commitment, right, Gretch?”

  Gretchen nodded mutely, her eyes wide. She did not like Rob Couts. Rob stayed longer than he should have, even though he saw Gretchen slide her hand inside Telly’s. He looked at their clasped hands and said quietly, “I think it’s time for you to leave, Radio.”

  Gretchen squeezed his hand and said loudly, “Not yet,” staring the other man down.

  The couple appeared to be having a private moment, but Rob stood watching them. He hawked once, spitting a glob of mucus toward the trash. “If you change your commitments, I’ll see you at the Series. Thirteen minutes left,” he said abruptly, pushing through them to go inside. He had wide shoulders and wore short-sleeved shirts so you could see the veining on his muscled arms. Telly felt like a gawky kid next to him. Telly straightened his shoulders, but Rob had already dismissed him. He looked at her, trying to catch her eyes in the moonlight. “I’m going for the cab job first thing tomorrow. Are you uncomfortable here? Don’t go in.”

  “It’s silly. You know I like my job. He’s just got a crush on me this week. He’ll move on to Jana next week.”

  “I don’t like the way he was looking at you.”

  For the first time, his mild-mannered girlfriend bristled. “You think I can’t take care of myself? I’ve been on my own since I was seventeen, Telly. I can take care of myself.”

  “I never doubted that, Gretch,” Telly said honestly. He loved her independence. Gretchen had reunited with her mother just recently, after a lifetime of foster care. Her mother had spent Gretchen’s youth in a haze of alcohol abuse and drug addiction.

  “Go home, Tel. I’ll be back by five.” She turned toward the door.

  Telly reached into his pocket, opening his wallet to pull out a thinly folded ten-dollar bill. It was his emergency cash. When he’d first gotten his license, his mother had given it to him and insisted that he keep it behind his ID card so he would never be without money. He had never used it and was a little sentimental about it. It made Gretchen’s insides melt. Telly would give the shirt off his back if she didn’t protect him.

  “No, Telly!”

  “Don’t argue with me.” He placed it in her palm. “Call a cab. I mean it, Gretchen. Don’t walk home.” He placed his finger on her lip and then his heart.

  Gretchen whispered, “Thick and thin.” She kissed him good-night, waving as he left to walk the few blocks home alone.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Telly sighed, leaving her. He hated that place. She’d worked there before they met. After they got together, he had gotten her a position serving drinks in the high-roller section of the casino. She was a victim of the takeover, having lost her job as well. She told him he should be grateful Rob took her back. The tips were decent; she got to take home wings for them nightly; and it didn’t involve stripping. It wasn’t a bad gig, Gretchen insisted. “Believe me,” she told him. “I’ve had worse.” He loved her tough resilience. Gretchen was like prairie grass: strong and willing to adapt. His parents had balked in the beginning. She wasn’t what they expected for him—no career, no education, no family to speak of. He could do better, they complained. Pliable, moldable Telly stood resistant to his parents for the first time in his life. Their criticism fell on deaf ears, and when he finally told them in his quiet, reasonable way all the reasons he loved Gretchen, they gave in, only to fall under her delightful spell. Gretchen was magic as far as Telly was concerned, and he felt alive when he was with her.

  A dog barked, the sound echoing on the deserted street. Telly felt a coldness dance down his spine. He paused to look around. Once, when he was young, he’d felt a weird kind of chill shake his body, and his father had told him someone was “walking on his grave.” Well, Telly thought as he made a slow 360-degree spin, someone’s break-dancing on it right now. He stopped, listening for something, and then concentrated on the shuffle of his footsteps. Left, right, left, right, left, left, right, right—he spun…someone was following him. The bleak street stared back at him, devoid of anything. Even the barking dog disappeared. It was silent. The air thickened. Telly strained his ears for any sound but heard nothing. He scanned the street and then picked up his pace with a skip. The additional steps picked up theirs as well. Soon Telly sprinted, the slap of his feet echoed by someone behind him. He faltered, falling to his knee and ripping his pants as he skinned it on the dirty pavement, his breaths coming in huge gulps. Digging his fingers into the blacktop, he rose, craning his neck frantically to look for the person following him. Sweat dripped down his face as he ran, his uneven footsteps echoed by the phantom pursuer. His escape was cut short when he felt a tug on his shirt. Spinning breathlessly, Telly raised his hand to whack someone but turned to the nothingness of the dank Vegas night. The stars mocked him, twinkling down, while he breathed hard, feeling scared and trapped. Telly gulped air, sweat running down his face. It was hot, even at night after the sun went down. The air was sultry, the streetlamps enveloped in a haze. The blare of sirens rent the evening. Shots were fired. The sounds of a Vegas evening back again. He listened to the tinny sound of music coming from a house down the block. The dog commenced its complaint, barking wildly, its pit-bull body hitting a chain-link fence with a resounding crash. Telly shuddered and took a deep, reassuring breath. There was no one there. Stuffing his hands into his pockets, he looked around once more. A man wearing only his boxers and a pair of slippers moved his trash can into the street. They stared hard at each other. Telly raised his hand in a friendly salute. The other man ignored him and turned to head back into the buttery light of his front door. Telly watched him closely, the door shutting out the inviting light. He headed for home.

  * * *

  Telly walked into the apartment, the television bathing the room in an eerie blue glow. He looked, his eyes widening as he stared at the screen. Why is the television on? he thought nervously. Grabbing the remote, he pressed the power button but the TV remained on. Telly squeezed the power button so hard, it got jammed in the plastic of the remote. Frustrated, he chucked it onto the orange sofa. They must have left the television on when they’d departed. Telly thought that was strange. They had never done that before. Gretchen was very careful with waste. He changed from pants to a pair of shorts and washed his knee, wincing when he cleaned the abrasion, and then he covered the scrape with a bandage. He kicked off his shoes, grabbed a beer, and flopped on the worn couch, stuffing a flattened pillow beneath his head. The Poker Channel was on, and Telly snorted, thinking Gretchen would never have left that on knowing how cruel it would be. She must have thought it was just another sports channel. The sportscaster droned on about different contestants. Telly recognized the old guy he’d played with tonight at the Bellagio, the one who said if he played at the Series he wanted to sit next to him. The old guy was being interviewed, and Telly’s eyelids drooped. He watched Friday end and the weekend start. The Series was officially three days away, and he would be driving some other gu
y to play in it.

  “The annual International Series of Poker’s Main Event kicks off this Monday. The biggest and brightest stars in the poker world will be in attendance. One who won’t be returning is the legendary Clutch Henderson, who passed away of a massive coronary at last year’s final table.”

  “A sad day in Vegas,” said the other newscaster, Kevin-something. Telly listened absently, turning away from the screen. He had a vague memory of the Henderson guy dying right before he lost. “A tragic day. Do you recall his hand, Stu?”

  “Indeed I do: four kings were at that table that night,” he intoned sadly.

  “FOUR KINGS, you asshole?”

  Telly’s eyes popped open at the expletive. It was loud. It didn’t get bleeped. Telly rolled up. The voice sounded as if it were in the room. He looked wildly around. Laughter filled the apartment.

  “He must be senile, that fat bastard. I had three kings,” Clutch chuckled. “Sheesh, Stuie, what happened to you?”

  Telly turned to see a vague outline of a man on the sofa next to him. He was old, with a shock of white hair and a lean, wolfish look. He crushed Telly’s beer can, burped loudly, and said, “Go get us another one, son. I’m powerfully thirsty.”

  Telly looked over his shoulder to see Sophie sleeping on her little round dog bed. He called her name softly. For Chrissakes, she barked at everything. Sophie looked up, her eyes refracting the light. “Do you see anything strange, girl?”

  Sophie snuffled noisily, placed her head back into the well of her body, and began to snore again.

  “The dog don’t care about me.”

  There was no mistake—he heard a voice, clear as day. Telly blanched; his skin tightened on his scalp as if it were being pulled back from his face. He scrambled up the arm of the couch, while the image wavered as it shook with good-natured laughter. I’m losing my mind, Telly thought feverishly.

  The television droned on. “Clutch had two kings with one on the table,” Kevin corrected his colleague.