Pokergeist

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Pokergeist Page 19

by Michael Phillip Cash


  The river came with agonizing slowness. The card flipped over to land in the row. Telly stared blankly at the seven of diamonds. The crowd was on its feet, screaming. The Ant looked up at Telly, a sweet smile on his face.

  “Nicely played. Congratulations.” He held out his freckled hand to shake Telly’s.

  “Well, that was fun.”

  “Yeah,” the Ant said. “Let’s do it again.”

  Telly nodded. The announcer jumped onto the stage.

  “Telly, Telly, you did it! You steamrolled twelve thousand people to defeat your opponent. How did you do it?” Kevin pushed the mike into his stunned face.

  “By sticking with it through thick and thin.” He scanned the now-lighted room, looking for Gretchen. He held out his hand for her to join him.

  “What are you planning to do with your winnings?” Kevin asked.

  “After a few expenses and taxes, it’s being donated to charity.” Gretchen was led up to him, her face relieved. “I couldn’t have done it without you,” he told her gratefully.

  Gretchen smiled. “I think we are having a good day. By the way, I’m pregnant.”

  Telly smiled. “It’s official. I am the luckiest man in the world.”

  Epilogue

  Four Months Later

  Gretchen sat in the rented Ford Explorer, Sophie on what was left of her lap. Her pregnancy was in the last part of the fourth month and competed for space with the dog. She had gained a little too much weight. All that CiCi’s Pizza was adding up. Telly had helped Cheryl and Earl (formerly known as Quick Daddy) purchase their franchise.

  “Well, Mrs. Martin. Are you ready?” Telly took her hand and kissed her knuckles. “I still wish you would have let me buy you that yellow diamond, if only to see that creepy saleslady’s face.”

  “Telly,” she gushed, “you’re my diamond. I don’t want any of that kind of stuff. I’m glad you donated all that money to charity. There are people who really need it. All I need is you.”

  They had put together a foundation, creating retraining programs for jobless people to go to school and train for new careers. They had set up scholarships in several of the trade schools and colleges, the Culinary Institute of Nevada getting a sizable chunk. Telly loved the irony that Clutch’s daughter Ruby was the recipient of the first scholarship.

  “The freeway is that way,” Gretchen said, pointing to the left. “Where are we going?”

  They had just pulled away from his parents’ house, saying a tearful good-bye before they proceeded with their move to Phoenix. Telly was going to run the IT department at Stan’s Barbeque—the job paid double his former wages at the casino. They had a home and a car waiting for them in Arizona. They had become close with Stan and his new wife, Ginny.

  “I have to make a quick stop.” Telly drove to Mount of Olives Cemetery in western Vegas. He pulled under a sweeping olive tree, the namesake of the cemetery. “Wait here. I’ll be back in a moment.”

  He walked down four aisles, his hands in his pockets. He found the stone covered by rotted leaves and a few twigs. Telly bent down, clearing away the debris. Ginny had purchased the grave before she’d moved out of Vegas and placed the urn in there. She didn’t know what to do with what was left of his cremains once she married Stan. She wanted Ruby to have somewhere to go if she felt alone.

  “Thanks for waking me up.” Telly smiled when he heard Clutch’s snarky voice. “What, no kiss good-bye?”

  “I figure you’re in the ninth circle of hell by now,” Telly said, his eyes misting.

  “Naw, not yet. You’ll never believe it, but they have great therapists here.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, we’re working on my commitment issues. So, Phoenix?”

  Telly sat on his haunches. “I’m happy with it.”

  “And poker?”

  Telly shook his head. “No fun without you.”

  “Aw shucks, Telly. You’re making me blush.”

  Telly stood, reaching into his pocket. He pulled out the chunky gold bracelet. “I want to thank you, Clutch. It was amazing.”

  He could hear Clutch’s gasp and feel the emotion as he placed the bracelet on the headstone. Telly stood, shyly wiping his eye.

  “Hey, Tel,” he heard Clutch call as he walked away, “I heard you’re pretty good at craps.”

  Telly shook his head and laughed. “Don’t even think about it.”

  Author’s Note

  The International Series of Poker is a fictional tournament, as are all of the characters in the book. It’s loosely based on the World Series of Poker, which happens every year in Las Vegas and takes numerous days to complete. In the interest of brevity, I whittled it down to a two-day tournament.

 

 

 


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