Ham On Rye - Charles Bukowski [95]
Once when I was stretched out on the campus lawn he had come walking by and had stopped and stretched out beside me.
“Chinaski, you don’t believe all that Nazi hokum you’re spreading around, do you?”
“I’m not saying. Do you believe your crap?”
“Of course I do.”
“Good luck.”
“Chinaski, you’re nothing but a wienerschnitzel.”
He got up, brushed off the grass and leaves and walked away…
I had been at the Temple Street place only for a couple of days when Jimmy Hatcher found me. He knocked on the door one night and I opened it and there he was with two other guys, fellow aircraft workers, one called Delmore, the other, Fastshoes.
“How come he’s called ‘Fastshoes’?”
“You ever lend him money, you’ll know.”
“Come on in…How in Christ’s name did you find me?”
“Your folks had you traced by a private dick.”
“Damn, they know how to take the joy out of a man’s life.”
“Maybe they’re worried?”
“If they’re worried all they have to do is send money.”
“They claim you’ll drink it up.”
“Then let them worry…”
The three of them came in and sat around on the bed and the floor. They had a fifth of whiskey and some paper cups. Jimmy poured all around.
“Nice place you’ve got here.”
“It’s great. I can see the City Hall every time I stick my head out the window.”
Fastshoes pulled a deck of cards from his pocket. He was sitting on the rug. He looked up at me.
“You gamble?”
“Every day. You got a marked deck?”
“Hey, you son-of-a-bitch!”
“Don’t curse me or I’ll hang your wig on my mantlepiece.”
“Honest, man, these cards are straight!”
“All I play is poker and 21. What’s the limit?”
“Two bucks.”
“We’ll split for the deal.”
I got the deal and called for draw poker, regular. I didn’t like wild cards, too much luck was needed that way. Two bits for the kitty. As I dealt, Jimmy poured another round.
“How are you making it, Hank?”
“I’m writing term papers for the other people.”
“Brilliant.”
“Yeah…”
“Hey, you guys,” said Jimmy, “I told you this guy was a genius.”
“Yeah,” said Delmore. He was to my right. He opened.
“Two bits,” he said.
We followed him in.
“Three cards,” said Delmore.
“One,” said Jimmy.
“Three,” said Fastshoes.
“I’ll stand,” I said.
“Two bits,” said Delmore.
We all stayed in and then I said, “I’ll see your two bits and raise you two bucks.”
Delmore dropped out, Jimmy dropped out. Fastshoes looked at me. “What else do you see besides City Hall when you stick your head out the window?”
“Just play your hand. I’m not here to chat about gymnastics or the scenery.”
“All right,” he said, “I’m out.”
I scooped up the pot and gathered in their cards, leaving mine face down.
“What did ya have?” asked Fastshoes.
“Pay to see or weep forever,” I said sweeping my cards into the deck and mixing them together, shuffling them, feeling like Gable before he got weakened by God at the time of the San Francisco earthquake.
The deck changed hands but my luck held, most of the time. It had been payday at the aircraft plant. Never bring a lot of money to where a poor man lives. He can only lose what little he has. On the other hand it is mathematically possible that he might win whatever you bring with you. What you must do, with money and the poor, is never let them get too close to one another.
Somehow I felt that the night was to be mine. Delmore soon tapped out and left.
“Fellows,” I said, “I’ve got an idea. Cards are too slow. Let’s just match coins, ten bucks a toss, odd man wins.”
“O.K.,” said Jimmy.
“O.K.,” said Fastshoes.
The whiskey was gone. We were into a bottle of my cheap wine.
“All right,” I said, “flip the coins high! Catch them on your palms. And when I say ‘lift,’ we’ll check the result.”
We flipped them high. Caught them.
“Lift!” I said.
I was odd man. Shit. Twenty bucks, just like that.
I jammed the tens into my pocket.
“Flip!” I said. We did.
“Lift!” I said.
I won again.
“Flip!” I said.
“Lift!” I said.
Fastshoes won.
I got the next.
Then Jimmy won.
I got the next two.
“Wait,” I said, “I’ve got to piss!