Smith's Monthly #7
Page 23
“I’d love that,” Samantha said.
“Again, congratulations, everyone,” Stan said. “And thank you from us all.”
With that, the Buddy Holly song started back up, Madge kept coming toward us, and Stan and Screamer were gone.
Patty and I spent most of dinner, between wonderful laughing and bad jokes about old slot machines, explaining who the gambling gods were to Ben, Samantha, Johnny, Geneva, and Tech, and why it was so special to have Lady Luck herself thank us.
It was somewhere in the middle of my mixed-berry pie that Patty reached over and put her hand on my leg under the table.
Oh, at that moment I felt better than if I had won the entire World Series of Poker. So many thoughts, so many emotions were going through me that I just about had a melt-down right there.
Patty leaned over, her hand firmly on my thigh, and whispered softly in my ear. “Don’t eat too much dessert.”
I wanted to ask her why, but just barely managed to turn and look into her eyes instead.
“I’ve got a very special dessert for you back at my place,” she whispered. “It includes a long hot shower and a bar of raspberry soap.”
She pulled back slightly so I could look into those wonderful brown eyes of hers. I could tell instantly that she was very, very serious.
I started to ask her how she knew about the soap and shower of my dreams, then realized that she was a superhero. She was Front Desk Girl. More than likely, one of her special powers was to sense someone’s wants and needs. Over the time we had been together, I had been giving off a lot of clues. Even the most rank of poker players could have read me and my emotions when it concerned her. No doubt her superpowers had me read right from the start.
I pushed the remainder of my pie away with a firm push that sent it into the middle of the table.
She laughed. “I take that as a yes?” she asked.
I put my hand on top of hers and squeezed, then with a smile I turned in my chair to face where Madge was standing and shouted, “Check!”
Later that night, I practiced my new superpower ability to stop time, making the shower and the wonderful-smelling bar of soap last a very, very long time.
The next morning, Patty went back to work, with a promise of a very special late dinner after the tournament was over.
I signed up and played in the three-thousand-dollar-pot-limit hold-em tournament. I got knocked out a little after eleven that evening, after my pair of black sevens caught another seven on the flop to make a set. I got all my chips in and was ahead in the hand until the guy who had called me with a pair of fives caught runner-runner hearts to make a heart flush.
So much for doing favors for Lady Luck.
But that night, staring into Front Desk Girl’s wonderful brown eyes, I knew right then and there that I was the luckiest person alive, and sometimes there was more to life than winning a poker tournament.
MY FARTS CRY
You died bringing me a son,
he died with you.
I was angry at you, at the world, at myself,
for you leaving, and taking him. I missed you.
I started drinking, lost my job,
eventually all my friends and yours gave up.
I moved to a new city, cheap old apartment,
where nothing would remind me of you.
It didn’t work, I couldn’t hold work,
I ate cans of pork and beans and drank beer,
your face, your smile, your absence
always around me.
My apartment now smells like a stopped-up toilet,
old newspapers scattered to the wind.
I open a can, wipe off a spoon,
and drip tears in the beans as I eat.
A swig of beer, a mouthful of beans,
I have no reason to go on.
Even my farts cry
for you.
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
USA Today bestselling author Dean Wesley Smith published more than a hundred novels in thirty years and hundreds and hundreds of short stories across many genres.
He wrote a couple dozen Star Trek novels, the only two original Men in Black novels, Spider-Man and X-Men novels, plus novels set in gaming and television worlds. Writing with his wife Kristine Kathryn Rusch under the name Kathryn Wesley, they wrote the novel for the NBC miniseries The Tenth Kingdom and other books for Hallmark Hall of Fame movies.
He wrote novels under dozens of pen names in the worlds of comic books and movies, including novelizations of a dozen films, from The Final Fantasy to Steel to Rundown.
He now writes his own original fiction under just the one name, Dean Wesley Smith. In addition to his upcoming novel releases, his monthly magazine called Smith’s Monthly premiered October 1, 2013, filled entirely with his original novels and stories.
Dean also worked as an editor and publisher, first at Pulphouse Publishing, then for VB Tech Journal, then for Pocket Books. He now plays a role as an executive editor for the original anthology series Fiction River.
For more information go to www.deanwesleysmith.com, www.smithsmonthly.com or www.fictionriver.com.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Introduction: The Origin of Yet Another Novel
A Desert Shot: A Poker Boy Story
One
Two
Three
A Bubble for a Minute
One
Two
Three
Time’s Window
The Life and Times of Buffalo Jimmy: Chapters 19-21
Part Nineteen
Part Twenty
Part Twenty-one
Gods Aren’t Funny: A Poker Boy Story
The Adventures of Hawk: Chapters 19-21
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Waiting for the Coin to Drop
The Slots of Saturn: A Poker Boy Novel
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
My Farts Cry
Smith's Monthly
About the Author
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