American Boy - Larry Watson [34]
I hadn’t been in the best of moods when the evening began. In my mind the remaining Blue Lake Lager belonged to Louisa, Johnny, and me. We were supposed to drink it together, and I begrudged sharing it with the guys. And then just when I felt finished with Debbie McCarren, she had come back into my life, only to push me away again. By the time I walked back into the house I was clenched tight with anger and frustration.
In the half hour or so I’d been away, Johnny’s fortunes had changed significantly. His chip pile was much lower, while Glen Van Dine’s was much higher. It also seemed as if they’d exchanged playing strategies. Now Johnny sat impassively, his smile and banter both gone. And while Van Dine didn’t keep up a nonstop commentary on the cards as Johnny usually did, he asked questions, very specific questions. And when I walked in he was asking them of Johnny.
“Did you know what a whore she was right away? I mean, she doesn’t look like a fucking whore, so I could understand if you didn’t get that.”
Johnny said nothing. He just sipped from the bottle of Blue Lake at his side.
“She looks like a goddamn schoolteacher, don’t you think?”
Johnny looked at his hole cards again. I’d never seen him do that once the cards were dealt.
“But Lester always said there was nothing she wouldn’t do. I mean, nothing.”
The bet was fifteen cents, and while I didn’t know what Johnny had down, he was beat on the board. He called the bet.
“She’d suck cock. Hell, she loved to suck cock.” Glen Van Dine raised a quarter.
Johnny tossed in a blue chip to call.
“She’d probably take it up the ass.”
The last card was dealt down, and Van Dine, with a pair of tens showing, bet a quarter. “Hell, she’d probably take it up the ass while she’s sucking cock.”
Gary Krynicki folded, and Johnny called. Glen Van Dine turned over a third ten, and Johnny just shoved his cards away. The blotches on Johnny’s cheeks had turned from their usual pink to white, as if he were the one who’d come in from the cold.
“Hey,” I said to Glen Van Dine, “how come you know so much?”
He looked up at me for a long moment, then he turned back to the cards being dealt. And to the table Van Dine said, “Anybody sitting on a stool next to Lester at PeeWee’s Bar was sure to get an earful about his piece of meat.” He had a queen showing, and he opened the betting for a dime. Everyone called.
The fourth card came around, and this time Van Dine bet fifteen cents. Once again addressing no one in particular, he said, “I wish I would have been there the night Lester made her give a guy a hand job right there in the bar.”
Another card was dealt, and this time Van Dine bet a quarter. “Yeah, three of them were sitting in a booth, and Lester had her sit next to this guy and jack him off while they just sat there drinking their beers.”
The fifth card was dealt, and once again Van Dine threw a blue chip into the pot. While Otis Unwin and then Johnny were debating whether to fold, call, or raise, Van Dine said to Johnny, “Here’s what I’m wondering. Do you and your old man take turns with her? Him one night and you the next? Or do you get her the same night? First he nails her and then you take your shot? Or maybe it’s like I said before. She sucks you off while he rams it up her ass.”
Otis Unwin folded. Johnny’s fingers trembled slightly as he took a blue chip from his stack and tossed it into the pot.
I walked around the table until I stood behind Glen Van Dine. Before the next card was dealt, I kicked the back of Van Dine’s chair hard enough to jolt him forward against the table. The ashtray at his side jumped and spilled out a load of ashes and cigarette butts. Gary Krynicki grabbed his wobbling beer bottle before it toppled to the floor.
Van Dine spun around. “What the fuck ... ?”
“I liked you better when you were quiet,” I said.
Van Dine surveyed the room as if he were trying