Epic Game

by William Kowalski

  “What do you do, then?”

  “I play cards.”

  “Huh?” For once, I’ve impressed this kid. “What kind of cards?”

  “Poker.”

  “You do that for a living? Online?”

  “Yep.”

  “That’s not a real job,” he says.

  “It is if you’re very good at it,” I say.

  “You’re that good?”

  “Yes. I’m that good.”

  “What’s the most money you’ve ever won in a single game?”

  “Twenty thousand dollars,” I say.

  David’s eyes nearly bug out of his head.

  “Wow! What’s the most you’ve ever lost?” he asks.

  “Aaaand now I think it’s time for bed,” I say. “I’m bushed. We can talk more in the morning.”

  “Where do I sleep?” he asks.

  “You can have my bed. I’ll take the couch.” I point him in the direction of my bedroom.

  “You don’t have a guest room?”

  “It’s full of junk. I’ll have to clean it out for you.”

  “At home I have my own room.”

  “Sorry, kid. You’ll have to make do.”

  “I don’t mind. When my dad comes, I’ll get all my old stuff back and move it into our new house.”

  “You’re lucky you still have your dad. I wish I still had mine.”

  “I wish I could have had both parents at once, just for a little while,” David says. He’s not trying to get me to feel sorry for him. But my heart breaks all the same. I can’t imagine what this kid has been through in the last three days.

  I show him to the bathroom and wait while he washes up and gets ready for bed. When he comes out in his pajamas, I can see Josie in him very strongly. Something about his sleepy eyes and the way his hair sticks up in back.

  I tuck him into my bed and kiss him on the forehead. He looks annoyed and wipes it off. But at least he doesn’t yell at me.

  “Good night, David,” I say.

  “Good night, Miss Thomas,” David says.

  I turn off the light and leave the door open halfway. Then I pass out on my couch. I’m so tired I don’t even bother with pajamas.

  Maybe tomorrow he’ll call me Aunt Kat.

  SIX

  It’s nice to wake up on a couch without a hangover for once. Usually, couches mean a crazy night, an epic game or both.

  An epic game is the kind that goes on for days and days. No one sleeps. Your heart pounds the whole time. It’s like being in a war. Afterward you have to sleep for a couple of days just to recover. And if you lose, you feel ten times worse.

  When I open my eyes, the sun is up. I can hear someone moving around. I panic for a moment. Am I being robbed? Then I remember—there’s a kid in my house.

  I sit up. David is in the kitchen, looking for breakfast.

  “You don’t even have any cereal,” he says. He looks shocked, like he feels sorry for me.

  “Cereal is bad for you,” I say.

  “You have three cans of beer, a tomato and a jar of mayonnaise,” he says, looking in the fridge.

  “Come on,” I say. “We’re going out for brekkie.”

  I take him to Taki’s, a twenty-four-hour joint I usually visit at three in the morning. It’s weird to be there when the sun is up. It’s the kind of place that’s better seen in half darkness. But David doesn’t seem to mind that it’s run down. He orders pancakes and bacon. I have coffee. I don’t do breakfast. The smell of food before ten o’clock makes me sick.

  “So, I guess your mom didn’t want a funeral,” I say.

  He shakes his head. “She hated that kind of stuff,” he says.

  “Can I…ask you something, David?”

  “What?”

  I want to ask him what he wants to do with Josie’s ashes. Mr. Molton told me Josie’s remains were already cremated, and the urn would be waiting at the undertaker’s. I wonder if he knows that. But I can’t bring myself to talk about that right now.

  Instead I say, “What are we gonna do with you today?”

  He frowns at me.

  “I’m not a baby,” he says. “I can do stuff on my own.”

  “Oh, really? All by yourself, in a strange town?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Like what?”

  “Surf the Internet. Look at manga.”

  “What’s manga?”

  “Are you serious?”

  “Do I look serious?”

  He peers at me. “You look like you’re still asleep,” he says. “Manga are Japanese comic books. You can read them online.”

  “And whose computer are you gonna use to do that?”

  “Yours.”

  “Uh-uh. Sorry. That’s what I use.”

  “I need a computer, then. I’m teaching myself how to speak Japanese. Konnichiwa.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means, ‘Good day. How are you?’ ”

  “I’m tired. That’s how I am.”

  “You can have your bed back. I can sleep on the couch.”

  “Aren’t you the little gentleman?”

  “I’m not little. I’m just small for my age. I’m gonna be as big as my dad.”

  His breakfast comes. He places his bacon at right angles on top of his pancakes, so the pieces form a square. He pours a puddle of syrup in the middle. He takes his knife and fork and trims away the round parts of the pancakes until they are perfect squares too. He pushes the scraps to the side. Then he slices the squared-off pancakes into smaller squares with bacon on top.

  “I have never in my life seen anyone eat pancakes like that,” I say.

  “They should make pancakes square in the first place. Then I wouldn’t have to do this.” He says this without smiling, which is when I realize he’s completely serious. “What would you do today if I wasn’t here?” he asks, taking a big bite.

  I shrug. “I’d play poker,” I say. “That is how I make my living, after all.”

  “Can I watch?”

  “Poker isn’t a game for kids.”

  “All the kids at my old school played.”

  “Really? Kids playing poker? Is that even legal?”

  “Well, not for real money. I know how to play though. I like to go all in every hand.”

  “Great,” I say, rolling my eyes. “You’re one of those. Listen, let me tell you something right now. That’s an excellent way to go broke. There’s a time to go all in, and there’s a time to just sit back and watch other people make idiots of themselves. You need to learn to tell the difference.”

  “Really?” His eyes are wide, like he’s writing this all down in his head.

  “Yeah. You know what psychology is?”

  “Of course I know what psychology is.”

  “Okay, then, Mr. Smarty-Pants. Why don’t you explain it to me?”

  “Psychology is when you sit in a room with a doctor and they ask you how you’re feeling.”

  He’s taken me by surprise again. “Have you ever done that?” I ask.

  “All the time,” David says. “I have to go to a psychologist once a week. My mom thought it would make me less weird, or get more friends, or something. Are you gonna make me keep going?”

  “No,” I say. “Listen, psychology in poker means something different. It means reading people�
��s faces and behavior so you can figure out what cards they have.”

  “But how can you read someone’s face when you’re playing on a computer?”

  “Well, you can’t. But you can still tell what they’re thinking by how long it takes them to act. It’s hard to explain,” I say. “You develop a knack for it.”

  “I don’t believe you,” David says. “Can I have a cup of coffee?”

  “No, you can’t have a cup of coffee,” I say.

  “Chocolate cake?”

  “Why don’t I just buy you a pack of cigarettes?” I say sarcastically. “I promised your mom I’d take care of you. No coffee. No cake. At least, not in the morning. You’re already getting off easy by not having to go to school.”

  David nods.

  “I know,” he says. “I was just testing you. To see if you really cared.”

  I reach out and rough up his hair.

  “You’re a really likeable kid, you know that?” I say. “Weird, but likeable.”

  “Thanks,” he says.

  “Tell you what. If you promise not to bother me every ten seconds to ask me for a cigar or something, I’ll let you sit with me while I play today.”

  “You will?” He brightens. “Cool!”

  “Yeah, but I gotta warn you. It’s gonna get really boring. And I won’t be able to stop to take you outside to play or anything.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because there’s this big tournament coming up. And I’m trying to qualify.”

  “Really? What tournament?”

  “Let’s just say there’s a million dollars in it for the winner. And I intend to win it.”

  “A million dollars,” he says. “What would you do with a million dollars?”

  I shrug. “I have no idea,” I say. “But I really look forward to finding out.”

  SEVEN

  Back at my place, I fire up the battle station and log into my account on PokerPeople. I open up four screens, because I usually have four games going at once. Some people do way more. But I also like to have my Facebook, my email and my Spotify going on. I can chat with friends, listen to music and look at pictures while I play. My teachers used to say I had Add. I say I’m a multitasker. Life must have been incredibly boring before the Internet was invented.

  David drags a chair over and makes himself comfortable. He watches as I buy chips at each table.

  “Four hundred dollars?” he says. “You’re rich!”

  “Four hundred dollars is chump change,” I say. “I’m just getting warmed up.”

  He watches as the cards are dealt electronically. Fold, fold, fold, fold.

  “Why’d you do that? You folded every hand!”

  “Strategy,” I say.

  “You should go all in every time. People will be scared of you then.”

  “Oh, really?”

  “Trust me.”

  “Thanks, but I’ll trust my experience.”

  But it so happens that in the next round of cards I get dealt a pair of aces face down. And I’m under the gun, the best position to be in. I check. Early in a game I like to play it cool. A couple of people bet, and a couple drop out. When the bet comes around to me again, I go all in. Two people call me. We show cards. One guy has a pair of kings. A respectable hand, for sure. But unless he gets another king, it’s not good enough.

  The other person is a fish who was obviously hoping to get lucky on a ten-jack. I don’t even worry about him. If you think poker is a game of luck, you might as well just give me your money right now.

  No aces or kings come up on the flop, the turn or the river. Needless to say, the fish does not get the straight he was looking for. I take the pot. It’s about five hundred dollars.

  David is about to jump out of his seat.

  “Holy cow,” he says. “What are you gonna do with all that money?”

  I have to smile. I remember when five hundred dollars seemed like a lot of money to me too. The thing is, in poker, money comes and goes all the time. Doesn’t matter how many zeroes are on the end. If you get attached to it, you start making bad decisions. Play with your head, not your heart. That’s another rule. I’ve broken it before, but I’ve always regretted it.

  “What do you think I should do with it?” I ask him.

  “I dunno. If I had five hundred bucks, I’d take my mom out for—” He stops. I can see he’s trying not to cry.

  “Aw, buddy,” I say. “It’s hard to remember, isn’t it? Sometimes I still want to call my dad on the phone to tell him stuff. It’s always a shock to remember I can’t.”

  I reach out for him, but he pulls away. I forgot. No hugging.

  “When is my dad coming for me?” he says. His lip is trembling.

  “I dunno. Do you wanna call him right now?”

  David nods. So I dig up his father’s phone number from one of Mr. Molton’s emails and program it into my phone. Then I dial and hand it to David. He takes the phone into the bathroom. I can hear him talking in there for a while. Then he comes out and hands it to me.

  “He wants to talk to you,” he says.

  “Hello?” I say, just as things begin to heat up on one table. I get up and go into my bedroom. I can sacrifice a few hands for this conversation. The blinds aren’t that high—only one and two dollars.

  “Hi, it’s Charlie here,” says a warm male voice with an English accent. “How are you, Kat?”

  “Fine, thanks, Charlie. So sorry about this terrible situation.”

  “It was a complete shock. Had you spoken to Josie recently?”

  “It had been a while,” I say.

  “How does David seem to you?”

  “Well, he’s okay, all things considered. Charlie, did you know he was there? When she did it, I mean?”

  Charlie goes silent.

  “You didn’t know,” I say.

  “My God. I knew that woman was selfish and careless, but I didn’t realize she was heartless too.”

  “Now just hold on,” I say. I feel the need to defend her, even though I know he’s right. “I really think she did what she thought was best. And maybe it’s better he was there so he doesn’t have to imagine it. Sometimes that’s worse than knowing.” I speak from personal experience here.

  “Is he okay, do you think?”

  “He’s an amazing boy. I am learning a lot from him.”

  Charlie chuckles.

  “He does that have effect on people. His personality can be hard to take sometimes, but I’m glad you’ve found a way to connect.”

  “It’s also what makes him special,” I say.

  “I’m so glad you see that. I miss him so much. I’m in the middle of a huge business situation here, and I can’t leave just yet,” he says. “But I hope to be there as soon as I possibly can.”

  “The lawyer said a month?”

  “I hope it will be less than that,” says Charlie. “Maybe just a couple of weeks. Will you be okay with him for that amount of time?”

  “It’s the least I can do for my best friend in the world,” I say. “David and I are getting along fine.”

  “Well, once again Josie succeeds in creating huge drama and turning everyone’s lives upside down,” Charlie says. “I really owe you one, Kat. I am so grateful. I can’t even say how much.”

  “You don’t owe me anything. Talk soon,” I say.

  I go back out into the living room.

  “David, your dad and I had a nice talk.
He’s going to be here sooner than—David?”

  David is sitting at my computer. He’s got a guilty look on his face. Like a dog who’s gotten into the treats or something.

  “David, what did you do?” I say.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispers.

  I look at the screen. He’s gone all in on each of the four games. And lost every hand. He’s just cost me over eight hundred dollars.

  “I’m sorry,” he says again. “I’ll pay you back. I swear. I promise.”

  I’m in a state of mild shock. I don’t care about the money. I feel violated. This is my computer. My account. My identity. My reputation he’s playing with. And he didn’t even ask.

  “With what?” I say. “You’re a kid. You don’t have any money.”

  “My mom left me some money. My inheritance. I’ll give it to you. Just don’t tell my dad.”

  “Get out of my chair,” I say.

  He gets up. I sit down. Then I take him by the arms and force him to look at me.

  “I don’t want you to give me your inheritance. What I want is for you to respect my property. My home. My computer. My games. My stuff. You understand?”

  He looks miserable. He nods.

  “What you did was disrespectful,” I say.

  “I know,” he whispers.

  “Now look. I’ve got a big tournament coming up. I have to qualify. I have to play a lot of poker to do that. And now, on top of everything else, I have eight hundred dollars to make back. This isn’t just a game, David. This is how I make my living. It’s how I eat. Do you understand?”

  “Yes,” he says.

  I’m about to say something else when my phone rings again. It’s my credit-card company, wanting to make sure I didn’t have my purse stolen. Apparently, losing eight hundred dollars like that is enough to make them worry about me. I feel almost flattered.

  I take the call in the bathroom. I’m in there for less than five minutes. When I come out, David is gone, and so is his suitcase.

  EIGHT

  I run out onto the balcony and scan the area. He can’t have gone far. My apartment complex is in a wilderness of strip malls and parking lots. There are practically no sidewalks. No one walks anywhere anymore. So a person on foot sticks out among the cars like a sore thumb.