Pokergeist

by Michael Phillip Cash

  “You shut up. You’re such a loser, Telly. I told Gretchen she was wasting her time with you. At least with Rob she might have a future.”

  “Rob?” Telly exploded. “She’s with Rob Couts?”

  Chrissy shrugged. “Maybe. I don’t know. He likes her. Thinks she’s pretty.” Chrissy sniffled. “He asked her to come to his house party. He plays poker…a lot. And wins.” Then she added defensively, “He invited me too.”

  Telly anxiously paced the street, his hands pulling at his unkempt hair. “What day?”

  “I’m not sure,” Chrissy lied. “You were supposed to get a job so you could help her today. It’s eight o’clock; why are you still here?”

  “What do you mean she’s going to a party at his house? Gretchen would never do that.”

  “He’s interested in her, and he let her know it. He can give her a better life than you. You haven’t brought in much of anything for months.”

  “Gretchen’s not interested in him,” Telly persisted.

  “You don’t know that,” Chrissy said snidely. “All a girl wants is to be taken care of by her man. You haven’t done much of that lately.”

  “It’s not like that with us.”

  Chrissy sniffled, “If you say so, but meanwhile you’re the one out looking for her at eight in the morning.”

  “Shit, it’s eight already?”

  “Time flies when you’re having fun,” Clutch laughed.

  “I’m not having fun,” Telly growled.

  “Neither is she,” Chrissy sneered. “Weren’t you supposed to be at a job interview this morning?” Chrissy looked at him skeptically.

  “Where is she?” Telly demanded.

  “I told you I don’t know. You better leave here or I’m calling the cops.” Telly opened his mouth, shutting it when she said firmly, “I mean it, Telly.” She showed him the pink iPhone in the palm of her hand.

  Telly reeled backward. He had no idea where else she might have gone. He called Gretchen’s mother’s number, but when the phone rang, he hung up. He didn’t like Maggie, and she hated him. She’d never go there and hear that her mother was right after all. What about Rob Couts? he thought. She wouldn’t have. That’s why she was so upset; poor Gretch. Her boss was hitting on her, and she didn’t feel comfortable. She was right about the money, though, he admitted. The last time he’d won, they’d lived on it for a short while, but he’d needed the bulk of it to finance new games. It was never going to work; he slapped himself on the forehead. He cursed himself for being both thoughtless and selfish. Why didn’t she tell him? He would make it up to her. He would beg for a cab job, but he was too punch-drunk to go now. He needed to shut his eyes for a few minutes. He headed home.

  He set his phone’s alarm for two hours later. Telly didn’t remember falling into his bed or even covering himself. He didn’t notice that the money he’d left on the table was gone. Exhausted, his mind numb with hurt, he sank into a deep slumber, unaware that Clutch sat on the end of the bed, watching and waiting.

  Telly snored, and his eyes sunk into his head. Clutch covered him with the fluffy comforter and sat watching the kid sleep. He walked out to look for the cash. Sten materialized on the rusty-orange couch.

  “The guy from 4A took it,” Sten told him.

  “Crap, we’ll have to start all over.” He looked at Sten. “How’d that happen?”

  “Telly left the door unlocked. He passed by, saw it, and took it.”

  “That stupid ass. I ought to—”

  “Haven’t you done enough? Your daughter’s been robbed; your wife and girlfriend are fighting over your winnings. The love of his life has walked out on him. She’s on the verge of being taken advantage of because she’s afraid to lose their only income.”

  “Do you know where she went?” Clutch demanded.

  Sten inclined his head.

  “Do you?”

  “You want me to do everything? What will you learn if I do? I don’t know, Clutch. That bracelet looks farther and farther away. Maybe you should set your sights on something more attainable. Maybe your grandfather was right and you really are a loser.” Sten’s voice was laced with contempt.

  Clutch swung drunkenly, but Sten easily outmaneuvered him. “You don’t know anything about Buster and me!” he shouted. He stood nose to nose with Sten, and the angel floated, surrounded by a rainbow of colors that tingled against Clutch’s skin. He pointed to the fluorescent white shirt. “That bracelet is mine! Nobody is going to stand in the way of my win.” He paused for a minute. “Wait, what do you mean my daughter’s been robbed? Is she OK?”

  “About time you thought about someone other than yourself. Is she OK? That depends on your point of view,” Sten answered as he let himself fade.

  “What a crock of shit!” he shouted at the waning image of the sentinel. “Come back here, you interfering know-it-all!”

  While he waited for Telly to get up, the angel’s words rankled him. Time ticked by, and Clutch had to admit that watching Telly sleep was more boring than watching him play poker. He decided to take a stroll.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  It was weird. The street had that familiar look, yet it felt foreign and small, like a kid’s playset. They’d had a pretty big house in their day, during the glory years. He was playing the poker circuit, winning big money. Jenny and his kid had a nice little setup on the north side of town. It was a big house back then, but now it seemed run-down, just short of shabby. The stucco was cracked; bird droppings plastered the tiled roof. The window in their entry had a crack in the corner that had somehow never gotten fixed, and the aluminum had turned black and moldy-looking. Jenny’d let the lawn go, and instead of the green oasis he had paid for, there was a field of dusty gravel, weeds poking through in clumpy knots.

  The sidewalk was jagged, the driveway a mess—Clutch wondered what the hell she had done with his winnings. The living room was dark, the olive shag carpet spotted with pet stains. “Damn dog,” he cursed. He looked around but couldn’t see an animal anywhere.

  Jenny was sprawled across the couch, her feet dangling off the end. She had put on weight, Clutch noticed. An ashtray overflowing with butts, a half-empty bottle of Southern Comfort, and crumpled magazines littered the scarred coffee table.

  Clutch wandered around the room, his fingers stirring the dust, stopping when he came to a picture of Ruby. It was her third- or fourth-grade class picture in a cardboard frame that warped slightly. The picture had faded over time; his daughter’s face looked sallow from exposure to cigarette smoke. Picking it up, he smiled at his daughter’s sweet, tomboyish smile. She looked like him, only pretty. His calloused finger touched the apple of her cheek, her blue eyes knowing, even at eight. Her ash-blond hair was in a sideways ponytail that he might have even made for her that day, or maybe not. It didn’t matter much anyway. Clutch sighed. Who remembered that stuff, anyway?

  Jenny coughed deeply. She was sitting up, staring right at him, her face sour. Clutch turned to look at her and realized that she didn’t see him. She was fully dressed in a sleeveless shirt and rumpled black pants. Reaching down, she picked up the half-empty glass and took a quick swallow.

  Oh yeah, he thought. That’s why. She hadn’t kicked him out, he remembered. He’d left.

  “Ruby,” she called loudly, her voice a rusty scrape. “Move your ass. It’s going on ten, and I have to get to the lawyers.” She pulled herself unsteadily to her feet. “Lazy piece of…Ruby, I ain’t got all day.”

  Clutch’s eyes followed her as she left the room, anticipation building at the sounds of his daughter getting ready.

  “Ruby!” she called again.

  “I heard you,” Ruby called back. It was a woman’s voice, not a child’s. Clutch walked to the stairs, his foot on the bottom rung. If he’d had a heart it would’ve been beating furiously in his chest. It felt like ages since he’d seen
her. She was an adult now—almost seventeen. Divorce had made her grow up fast. That, and the twenty-seven-year-old she had hooked up with. He hated Roy with a passion that bordered on insanity.

  Ruby appeared at the top of the stairs, her hair an interesting shade of blue, her light eyes ringed with dark circles. Her skin was so white, it was translucent. She wore some kind of black spandex shorts with ripped denim over them. Her top was a Band-Aid with spaghetti straps, her bared shoulders covered with colorful tattoos. She was wearing short dark boots and a ring in her nose that connected to her earring with a chain.

  Clutch swallowed convulsively, looking at the alien that was his daughter. He hoped she wasn’t still involved with that creep, Roy. He was a bad dude. He glanced behind her, satisfied that no one was following. Clutch came close, looking at her eyes. At least they looked normal.

  She looked like a homeless person. He shook his head. He should have taken his kid when he’d left. He tried to remember why he didn’t. His occupation didn’t jibe well with family life. He couldn’t do the whole picket fence thing. He lived on a reverse schedule. He needed to sleep during the day and made his living at night.

  “I told you to wake me,” Jenny said.

  Ruby sniffed. “Your screaming kept me up all night.”

  “I wasn’t screaming; I was talking to your father’s slut.”

  Ruby shrugged indifferently. “I don’t know why you insist on fighting with Daddy’s girlfriend.”

  Clutch’s ears pricked up—Ginny and Jenny in a fight?

  “I didn’t start it; she did,” Jenny spat. “Three weeks after Clutch died, that bitch filed a lawsuit for the money. There was no will; her fancy lawyer claimed we were married on paper only.”

  “They were as good as married,” Ruby pointed out. “Dad loved her. I know he did.”

  “Clutch didn’t know the meaning of that word. You always gave him more credit than he deserved. He was the most self-serving bastard that ever lived,” Jenny spat.

  Somewhere in the region of Clutch’s chest, a small spark stirred, making his shriveled heart protest with the abuse from his ex.

  Jenny dismissed her daughter with a wave of her hand as she disappeared into the downstairs bathroom. “Screw her and you too,” she added maliciously.

  Ruby threw herself onto the couch. “She’s really OK, and she needs the money.”

  “So do we,” came the curt reply.

  “You could split it. That way, we all get some of it.” Ruby got up to go into the kitchen. She pulled out a skillet. “I’m making eggs; you want some?” she called out. No response. Ruby took out a few stalks of asparagus, cutting them into small pieces; then she added a neat pile of tiny, perfectly chopped chives. Clutch admired her knife skills. She whipped eggs, put in a pinch of salt, and expertly flipped her omelet. Clutch clapped with stunned appreciation. Ruby paused, looking around the filthy kitchen, her eyes weary.

  Where did she learn that? he wondered. Pulling out a stool, she sat at the counter eating her eggs while leafing through a brochure.

  “All you’re doing is making the lawyers richer,” she said without looking up as her freshly showered mother entered the room. Clutch looked at her. He noticed that she cleaned up nicely, but he still didn’t like her. Jenny was mean.

  “She’s not getting anything.”

  “That’s not what my father wanted.”

  “Then he should have been responsible and made a will.” Jenny made a cup of black coffee. “He left us high and dry.”

  “He paid the support until he died.”

  Jenny gave her a dirty look.

  “Well, he tried. He hit a bad patch; you can’t blame him for that.”

  “Good girl.” Clutch came up behind her. Ruby shivered, a chill going through her slender body.

  “Yeah, he was father of the year. I’m not sharing his winnings. Anyway, why do you care about Clutch’s bimbo?”

  “She was always nice to me, even when Dad stopped talking to me.”

  Jenny made a rude noise and said, “Oliver Henderson owes me.”

  Clutch winced when she said his real name. Nobody ever called him that except for Jenny. He hated her even more for that.

  “If you don’t stop this senseless battle over the money, there will be nothing left,” Ruby told her, pointing her fork at her to stress her words.

  Jenny eyed her daughter. She had given her nothing but trouble since she’d hit puberty. She was a daddy’s girl, and when Clutch stopped talking to her over that guy, she thought their relationship wouldn’t be able to be fixed—and it wasn’t, in spite of all the times that Ginny called and tried to make it better. Interfering bitch, she thought. “If you like her so much, why don’t you go and stay with her? Let her pay your way.”

  Ruby looked up, her eyes sparking with hostility. “Don’t think she hasn’t offered.”

  “All you care about is that stupid cooking school. Trust me, you’re not even that good.”

  “At least she’s offered to help with my tuition.” Ruby closed the brochure she was looking at. “Ginny says Dad would’ve wanted me to go.”

  “He didn’t speak to you for a year!”

  “It was my fault.” Ruby stood next to the trash, dropping the folder into the pail. “He was trying to teach me something.”

  “All your father cared about was the game. Not you, or me, or even that woman—”

  “Ginny,” Ruby said helpfully. “None of this is her fault. She didn’t break up your marriage.”

  “She helped,” Jenny sneered through her teeth.

  Ruby laughed contemptuously. “Believe me, Mom. You didn’t need any help.”

  Jenny reached across the counter and slapped Ruby across the face. “It’s a short ride from here to the homeless shelter.”

  “Homeless shelter?” Clutch said out loud. Both women stopped, looking around the room. Somehow it broke the tension.

  “My rules, remember? You don’t have Clutch to run to anymore.”

  “I didn’t run to him the last time,” Ruby said softly.

  “That’s because he wouldn’t talk to you while you dated that junkie.”

  “We broke up.”

  Jenny grunted as she poured her coffee into the sink. “You didn’t break up. He went to jail.”

  “Jail, humph. Good,” Clutch said with a smile. He hated that guy.

  “None of that matters. I’m clean now. I wish Dad could see that.”

  “He was so busy with his life, he didn’t know you ruined your own.”

  “You know that’s not true.”

  “What did he ever do for you?” Jenny demanded. “Oh, I don’t have time for this! He didn’t sit up with you at night; I did. He do homework? Make you dinner? Don’t think so—he did nothing. The best thing he ever did was drop dead so I could finally get my share…the one I deserve.” She threw her hands in the air. “What’s the use? It’s my money. I’ll see it burn before she gets it.”

  “Those men who came, the ones that Daddy owed…”

  “Fuck them. Let them go to Clutch to collect.”

  “It wasn’t his fault either,” Ruby said to Jenny’s back as they walked out of the house. “He refused to speak to me when I quit school.”

  Jenny spun, her face a mask of hatred. “He should have been here. Nobody is getting that money but me.” She pointed to her chest, another one he’d paid for. “I’ve been robbed!” she shouted.

  Ah, Clutch thought, the lightbulb going off in his head. That’s what Sten meant. “No, Ruby’s been robbed—her future stolen from her,” Clutch said to himself.

  “That home wrecker will get nothing, I swear. She won’t see a penny, unless it’s over my dead body,” she swore.

  “That could be arranged.” Clutch surged forward but felt himself being held back in a merciless grip. “Let me
go!” he screamed at Sten. “This is my house!”

  The sentinel had a habit of showing up and interfering with Clutch’s plans.

  “Not anymore, Clutch. This isn’t your fight. It’s theirs. You deserted this boxing ring years ago.”

  “I didn’t desert them. I was trying to make a living.”

  “If you start to believe your own bullshit, Clutch, you’ll never get anywhere,” Sten laughed.

  “It’s true!” Clutch responded.

  The door slammed. The women and Sten were gone. Clutch walked into the kitchen, fishing out the pamphlet that had held his daughter’s interest. It was an application to the Culinary School of Nevada. Ruby had ambition; he felt stirrings of pride. He’d always said she was a smart kid. Took after him. He tucked it under his arm and left.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Telly rubbed the beard from his bleary face. Putting on the Vince shirt Gretchen had bought him for Christmas, he slipped on his shoes and walked into the living area. He pulled his wallet and a small wad of cash from his pocket. Looking down at the coffee table, he noticed that the money was gone. His heart started to race. He dropped to his knees and crawled around on the floor, lifting the skirt of the couch to search underneath it. Frantically, he moved his hands on the matted carpet, cursing under his breath when he found nothing. His mouth went dry. Had he dreamt the whole thing? No, Gretchen was gone, and he still had about seven hundred dollars. He pulled out five hundred and left. As he walked past Cheryl’s apartment, he quietly slipped it under the door.

  He grabbed a bus on Maryland Parkway, getting off a block from George’s Cab Service.

  “You scored a perfect one hundred on the test, Telly. You’re lucky you came in today,” George told him as he handed over a stack of papers.

  “Really, why?” Lucky was a word Telly never used to describe himself.

  “Starting next week, all drivers have to be approved by the NTA. You would lose a week waiting for the approval to go through. We got a fight tomorrow, and I have to fill the vehicles. If you want, you can start tonight.”

  “What time?”