Seven Stud by Edward Drobinski - HTML preview
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Chapter 5
We took turns washing up in the bathroom, intending the cold water to bring us to maximum alertness more than inducing cleanliness. After I exited the bathroom, he said; “Ready?”
“As ever. I’m feeling lucky.”
“Let’s go.”
We walked out of the house to Butch’s purple mustang. We drove west about five miles to the other side of town. We headed directly into the gently setting sun. Though rain never seemed a possibility, the day had been lightly clouded, resulting in the sky’s even mixture of blue and white, suggesting some kind of boring acquiescence, but also tranquility.
Frank Happle’s house sat on 250 acres of gently rolling land, perennially in strawberry cultivation. Frank didn’t do any of the farming himself, instead leasing the land rights to a man who knew strawberries, ran a crew of four people year round and twelve during harvest in April. The house itself was an early American lover’s dream. The cut stone exterior was somewhat rugged, but also cultivated, as it presided prominently over the treeless land. We drove up the long gravel driveway to the front of a well maintained 4,000 sq. ft. red barn and parked in the midst of six or seven other cars. Some looked foreign
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and expensive. The house was probably about 3,000 sq. ft., a big one in the time of its construction, probably around 1850, but no longer considered gigantic by modern day standards. But, the modern ones have a way to go before they can compete in charm, style, warmth and durability.
Butch and I walked silently down a fifty foot gray slate path to the deep blue front door. He knocked three times using a four inch gold knocker. In a few seconds Frank came to the door. He stood about six feet tall and was a slightly portly 230 pounds. He was about 70 years old, with an almost full head of gray hair. His casual clothes suggested a poised and easy graciousness.
Frank said; “Welcome, welcome. Butch, it’s good to see you. It’s been a while. Who’s your new friend?”
Frank shook Butch’s hand and then extended it to me. I said; “Ed” as we shook hands.
“Frank,” he said. He led Butch and me into the center hall, which had a series of Oriental carpets, the most prominent piece of furniture a Chippendale mahogany grandfather’s clock, with a non-working movement, which resulted in the hands perennially stating 11 o’clock. The hall had four white painted doors, two on each side. We were led to the one on the back left. Upon entering, the first things I noticed were the five well aged gentlemen sitting or standing near a large three part
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Heppelwhite table with spade feet evincing a reddish brown mahogany finish. There were six identical arm chairs of similar vintage, stylish and deceptively fragile in appearance.
The second item getting my attention was a rustic tended bar in one corner with a myriad of bottles on simple shelves on the catty corner walls behind it. Frank led us that way and said; “Butch are you imbibing this evening?”
Butch said; “Not a chance. Thanks, Frank.”
Frank nodded toward Butch and said; “Glad to hear that.
And you, Ed?”
I said; “None for me, either, thanks. I need my wits about me to stand a chance against the sharpies Butch has been telling me about.”
Butch and Frank made polite laughs and then Frank said;
“Let’s go meet the rest of the boys.” Sitting at the table bullshitting about God knows what, Jackie Owens, Chet Randolph and Bob Barrett stood up to greet the unexpected guests.
Frank said; “Of course, you guys remember Butch. He brought a new sucker with him, Ed.”
I said; “Thank you for the introduction.” Frank and Butch laughed. We all shook hands while polite conversation went on.
Bob said; “Glad to meet you, Ed. And Butch, you’re looking better than I’ve seen you in a long time.”
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Butch responded; “I’m trying. You look like life has been good to you. You must have gained twenty pounds.”
Bob laughed; “Yeah, I’ve been okay.”
Jackie smiled and said; “Well, Butch, aren’t you going to evaluate my state of affairs?”
Chet chimed in; “And don’t forget me. I can hardly wait for your observations.”
I said; “Why don’t we play cards instead? I’m anxious to prove what a sucker I am.”
Bob nodded approval and said; “Best idea I’ve heard all night.”
We all sat down at the sizable table. Butch and I sat one seat apart. If I was number one, he was number three to my left.
Frank picked up the deck; “This is mostly for Ed’s benefit.
We play dealer’s choice, $25 per hand, $200 limit per card, royalties on four of a kind or better and......”
Butch interrupted, saying: “I told Ed all about it.”
Bob raised his eyebrows; “You guys are really anxious to play. Just one more thing. The game has a $1,000 entrance minimum. Would you mind?”
Butch and I emptied our pockets, showing the required amounts. Butch politely said; “And you?”
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The four regulars laughed and put some money on the table in front of them, probably near $1,000. I took a look at the players. Two of them were similar to Frank, in that they appeared to be about the same ages, were somewhat portly, at ease with their underdressed prosperous faux farmer countenance and sat confidently and quietly, their preferred beverages on coasters in front of them. Bob was the exception. He was thin and wore black chinos and a light reddish brown button down long sleeved shirt, covered by an open black vest, giving off the aura of a gunslinger. I didn’t expect it, but I hoped he wasn’t carrying one.
Almost all dealers called seven stud and as the game progressed I thought I noticed the players’ habits. They generally played a conservative game, almost as if they had preconceived bets etched in their heads dependent on the hand they had, or its perceived potential. They all tended to stay in the game no matter what they had until the last card, unless the bet was large and the bettor had something good on board.
Initially, I played the game the way I saw it played, in an effort to get a feel for what I could reasonably expect. My ideas in place I began playing differently. I bet the maximum much more often, even doing it in hands where my first three cards were of one suit, a weak possibility of a flush.
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I began getting good cards and more than once heard the comment; “Beginner’s luck.” I would just smile and rake in the money. Butch was up well, too, benefitting a lot from the technique of calling my bluff. It became obvious that without exception the players kept looking at their down cards when they had a bad hand and not looking at them when they had a good one.
Because I was betting heavily, the game went fast. After an hour Jackie and Chet had already lost their original $1,000
plus another one. Both announced that they had reached their nightly limit and dropped out of the game and spent the rest of the evening sitting at the bar, talking to the bartender, who was laughing uproariously at everything they said, which was not audible to me. Bob was about even, but Frank was out $4,000.
Initially he did his usual bit of laughing about it. He reminded everyone how he was collecting more money from the strawberry farmer, who leased his 250 acres, than he knew what to do with. But, when his losses reached the current level he seemed to take on a slightly different tone.
Frank said; “Now that the small fish are out of the game, I want a chance to win back my money. How about we change the rules to $250 up and $1,000 per card?” He looked at me in particular when he said that and my first reaction would have been to say, “Sure, asshole,” but I decided to take a different stance.
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I said; “I don't know. Changing the rules midway is a trifle disconcerting.”
Butch said; “I never heard of this happening before.”
Bob, who was approximately even, simply shrugged and raised his eyebrows, looking around the room, as if to say; “Whatever anybody wants.”
Frank again looked at me and said; “A trifle disconcerting or not, it’s only fair to give me a chance to win my money back.”
Butch looked at me, smirked and said; “I’m going to give the man a break and let him have his rule changes. I can probably last a few hands. If I start losing in this ‘friendly’
game, I hope that the man is amenable to some rule changes I might need.”
Frank looked at Butch with a grimace, exhaling an exorbitant share of air from his nose, but saying nothing.
I added; “All right. If everyone’s for it I’m not going to mess it up. I’d like you all to know, however, that unlike Frank here, I don’t have 250 acres under lease to a strawberry farmer and can’t afford to lose much. When I’m back even, I quit.”
Frank looked at me, this time appearing somewhat sorry and perhaps apologetic for being so money oriented in this
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“friendly” game. I thought to myself; “Just where I want you to be, loser.”
I glanced over at Butch, who had a Mona Lisa smile on his face, when he made a small nod and a wink. Bob was sitting there shuffling the cards over and over, not looking at any of us, no doubt deep in his own thoughts about the new situation, but ready to go whenever all the bullshit is over with.
While the almost predictable conversation went on I had the opportunity to survey more of Frank’s room. His taste in paintings was eclectic to say the least. The walls in the left quadrant, which housed his gambling table, were tongue and groove paneling, stained light brown, covering the original white painted plaster showing in the rest of the room. There was an original color painting of the house, done around 1880, showing that the structure had not changed much over the years.
However, the land on which it sat evolved dramatically. The plethora of trees shown in oil had disappeared and was replaced with nothing, as the 250 acre strawberry patch was now devoid of anything more than a foot tall. Contrasting that was a four foot square lithograph under glass in a modernistic vein, containing perfectly drawn circles within circles of different colors. At the center was a small cartoonish black and white drawing of a young girl’s face, looking upward, assuming the picture was hung correctly. There were two others in the
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general area; one of traditional, elegantly dressed people with rifles, on horses, presumably hunting. The last was a large crying clown’s face, however with a large red painted smile. I wondered if the smile was due merely to the paint, or if it was part of the clown’s personae.
However, currently more compelling was the concentration necessary to resume the game. I wanted a little break to get back into the necessary state of mind, so I said; “Frank, before we get going, can you direct me to the bathroom?”
Frank said; “Sorry, Ed. I should have pointed that out to begin with.” He directed me to a lavatory in the hallway just outside the room. As I took care of business, the sound of the stream hitting the yellowing water brought me back to more reality than I needed.
I re-entered the gambling room to the smiling nod of the barman, which I returned. I again took my same seat at the table, though my competitors’ positions changed. To reduce the game from six to four players, the two end seats were now empty, leaving the remaining men sitting across from each other two by two. Frank was now shuffling the cards furiously. He said;
“I’ll deal first, all right?”
Bob said; “Let’s cut for it.”
Frank laid the cards face down on the table, each of us removing one interior card. Butch picked the highest card, the
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Queen of clubs, took the deck, re-shuffled it, offering a cut to the man on his right, me, which I waved off. He started dealing the cards, announcing “seven stud.” We antied up our $250
apiece.
The game started slowly, with no one doing anything unusual. Betting was modest, but it seemed as time went by Frank started to appear in a hurry to get his money back. He wasn’t getting anywhere near his share of winning hands and his bets per card started to escalate, sometimes raising, even when others seemed to have much better cards on board. At first I thought he could be holding some good down cards, but he kept looking at them and after a while I saw that he was betting nothing special and was merely acting hastily not conducive to financial health. After half an hour, Butch, Bob and I were up $8,000 of Frank’s money. I had noticed a pattern of Bob’s, who sat to my right. He waved off the cut, when offered, every time I dealt.
In one game Bob dealt, I got absolute garbage on the first three cards; a two of clubs, a five of diamonds and a Jack of hearts. Frank bet $1000 on the first up card, which we all called. My fourth card continued the barrage with an eight of spades, so when Frank bet another $1000, I dropped out, the others calling and remaining in the game. After the seventh and final cards were dealt to the others, I grabbed the deck of
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cards, as it was my deal next. As I shuffled them, I found 3
aces left in the deck. As the betting went on, I sloppily dropped the cards on the floor face up, picking them up with feigned difficulty, managing to install the aces as the fourth, eighth and twelfth cards from the top of the deck. I also managed to get two fives at the second and sixth positions, which would be Frank’s cards. The current game finally ended after a few rounds of raising, with an “Oh, man” exclaimed by Bob when he saw Butch’s unlikely three good down cards, all hearts, which gave him a flush, beating his three of a kind, which he threw down on the table in disgust. Everyone was watching Bob’s reaction as he threw his arms down by his sides, slumped in the chair and stared at the ceiling. Taking advantage of the diversion, I did a very sloppy shuffling, not disturbing the first twelve cards. As usual I offered a cut to Bob, who just raised his left hand and brought it back down, mumbling; “Fuck it.”
I dealt the cards saying; “Seven stud.” The others didn’t matter much in the game, so suffice to say that, Frank and I were very happy to see our first three cards. High on board was Butch to my left. He said; “Pass.”
Frank said; “$350.”
Bob said; “Okay,” and threw the money in.
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The next bet was me. I said; “Okay, let’s get this over with, make it $700.”
Butch, Frank and Bob simply called.
I dealt out the second face card. Frank was elated, as now he already had two pair, one on board. I said; “It’s on the eights.”
Frank said; “Let’s make this interesting, $1,000.”
Bob sighed and said; “One more. Call.”
I simply said; “Call,” as did Butch.
I dealt out the third face card and said; “Still on the eights.”
Frank shrugged and said; “Another $1,000.”
Bob looked at his down card, shook his head and said; “Not me,” throwing in his cards.
I whispered; “Plus one,” and Butch dropped out. Frank simply called.
Butch shot me a look when he saw me raise on the fifth card against a visible pair of eights while nothing obvious of mine was showing. I caught his glance, looked him square in the eyes for a second, made the slightest of nods and gave him a wink only he could see. I turned my eyes back to the table.
When I dealt out the sixth card, I saw Butch sitting back on his chair, hands at his side, looking at me with the vaguest of smiles as if to say; “Okay, pal, let’s see what you’ve got.”
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I dealt the fourth face card to Frank and me. We were both very pleased.
Frank said; “1,000.”
I said; “1,000 and another.”
Frank said; “And again.”
I said; “At least once more.”
“Fine with me. I’ll give you a break and just call this time.”
I dealt out the third and last down card.
Frank said; “Here we go again,” throwing in $1,000.
I surveyed his five cards. Since I had aces full, the only thing Frank could have to beat me was four eights or four fives and I had one of each of those cards. I knew I could not lose.
What a fantastic feeling. How many times can one honestly say that? I said; “How about we forget about the limits again. Let me throw in everything I’ve got here.” I pushed about $8,000
into the center of the table.
Frank said; “Good,” matching my $8,000 and then said; “And another ten.”
I said; “I’m light the $10,000 plus another $10,000.”
Frank said: “Don’t get in over your head.”
I said; “I can’t write you a check for it today, but I can have it in two to ten days. You know where I live.”
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Frank said: “Sounds fine to me. But I’ll just call this time.” The board revealed the following: Ed
Frank
Down
A spades
5 clubs
A hearts
5 hearts
Up
A clubs
8 spades
3 hearts
8 clubs
5 spades
A diamonds
3 spades
5 diamonds
Down
8 hearts
Q clubs
I softly laid my two hidden aces down and very softly said;
“Aces full.”
Frank stared at the cards in apparent disbelief. He then turned his head left toward his old buddy, Bob, smiling and shaking his head he said; “Fives full. Can you believe it?”
Bob said flatly; “Some days it just doesn’t pay to get out of bed.”
As I reeled in the money Frank said; “Take it, you lucky son of a bitch.”
Attempting to sound fortunate, grateful and underplayed, I said; “This is great. I haven’t been lucky in some time.
Frank said; “We can go for some bigger action. Think about it. I know a game in the Bedminster condos with a $20,000
minimum and $2,000 maximum per card.”
I said; “That’s nice to know. I’ll think about it a while.” Standing up from the table, I said; “I assume the evening’s festivities are concluded.”
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The other three rose and took a step or two toward the door. Almost simultaneously people started shaking hands and saying their “Good night, see you soon” types of talk. When we got to the door Frank looked at me and said; “I’m serious.
Think about it. I can back you for half the winnings. If I don’t get a good hit, I’m going to have to raise the strawberry farmer’s rent.”
Though I was very interested, I didn’t want to appear as too sharp and I chose to deflect him, saying; “He’ll have to raise his prices.”
Frank cautioned; “I know you’re the guy who recently had a brain tumor. You can’t get more unlucky than that. You’re okay, right?”
I said; “Yeah, more or less. The after effects make me sleep a lot.”
Frank said; “Maybe you need some excitement. And maybe you’re walking around lucky, now.”
Everyone was smiling, including me when I offered Frank my right hand, which he took, as I said; “I promise I’ll think about it. I’m flattered. I was just lucky tonight.”
Frank nodded at me and said; “You know where to find me.”
Butch and I silently entered his car and we drove away.
When we got to the end of Frank’s driveway, he looked in the
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rear view mirror to see if anyone was within earshot. Feeling safe he yelled; “Fucking fantastic.”
I mock modestly said; “I got a once in a lifetime situation.”
“Maybe you know how to make ‘once in a lifetime’ situations happen. Think you can do it again?”
I started laughing and said; “Maybe.”
He started laughing, too and we drove silently back to my house. I said; “Let’s split up inside,” as I opened the car door.
When we got in we stood at the kitchen table and emptied our pockets. Butch said; “Do you know what Frank is talking about?”
I said; “A little bit. Truthfully, not exactly.”
“He sometimes backs someone for a 50-50 profit split.”
“What if I lose?”
“He eats it.”
I said; “Shit. Another can’t lose situation. I think I’m going to be paying a visit to Frank’s house soon.” We split the money in half, each of keeping $22,000.
I said; “Before I go see Frank, though, when am I going to meet Acheron? I’m feeling amorous.”
Butch said; “Didn’t I tell you?”
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I said; “Maybe, but I wasn’t really paying attention to you. I was thinking only about cards.”
He smiled at me and said, “Dinner, tomorrow night, 6 PM at the Flemington Hotel. You come get me and we’ll take both cars.”
“Fine. But, why both cars?”
“Keeps options open, dummy.”
I laughed at my own naivete, immediately remembering that there are such things as “stupid questions.”
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