Raylan_ A Novel - Elmore Leonard [62]
He said, “Somethin I believe must draw a crowd.”
“Once in a while,” Jackie said.
“Boyd knows all kinds, good and bad,” Carol said. “It’s why I keep him handy. Harry, you know I owe my life to Boyd.”
Harry was still holding his drink. He said to Carol, “That was a tragic situation. I guess there was nothin else your boy could’ve done but shoot that miner. What was his name, Otis something?”
“I couldn’t move,” Carol said. “Boyd stepped in front of me drawing his revolver—”
“I read in the paper,” Jackie said, “it was an automatic, a Glock? If you’d like to know what I do, I play poker. Harry staked me when I was down, just about out, and takes me to poker games.”
“I put up ten grand,” Harry said. “This was after she’d lost twenty thousand to some boys I happen to know. I was curious and had a feeling about Jackie, the way she talked about poker, on intimate terms with the game, and I decided why not? I gave her ten big ones, and said you lose it, I’ll drop you off at the next crossroads. Well, the little girl’s been on a hot streak, a few clubs in Indiana, two whole days in Louisville playin some boys don’t know what hit ’em.” He said to Jackie, “Tell Carol how much you’re up.”
She said to him, “You know you never helped me count my winnings?”
He said, “You poor thing,” and to Carol, “Louisville, Jackie put a wad of bills in the bank and got an ATM card. You want to know for how much? Ask her, she won’t tell me.”
“Well, if she was playing against high rollers,” Carol said, “and you say she was on a streak, I’ll guess . . .” Carol paused, looking at Jackie. “You’re not saying a word, are you? If you talk about it, I might think you’re bragging, so you keep it to yourself. That’s admirable restraint for a young girl . . . twenty-one years old? You’ve been playing poker all your life, haven’t you?”
“About seven years,” Jackie said.
“You started when you were—”
“Sixteen,” Jackie said, “playing online.”
“That’s close to all your life. You always play for money? What’s the point if you don’t, right? I suppose at school.”
“Butler,” Jackie said. “I played every night.”
“Do you cheat?”
“No.”
“You mean you don’t have to. You read people.”
“It’s unavoidable,” Jackie said. “You check out mannerisms while you’re deciding on the odds.”
“All there is to it,” Carol said. “We should get together, play a little poker.”
“She’s busy,” Harry said.
“When she’s not,” Carol said. “Have a drink and chat.”
“I’m actually twenty-three,” Jackie said.
Carol gave her a nice smile. She said, “Does it matter?”
Now at Carol’s table in the middle of the Blue Grass Room, Boyd wasn’t saying a word, hands folded in his lap. Their drinks came, white wine for Carol, Boyd, a bottle of Rolling Rock. She didn’t let him drink anything hard while he’s driving her around Lexington. He poured his beer, raised the glass to take a sip and placed it on the table again.
“I know what it was,” Carol said, “Harry calling you boy. ‘Your boy had to shoot Otis Culpepper.’ Harry calls any guy under fifty boy. He calls Jackie ‘this little girl.’ Did you hear him? Jackie’s twenty-three. She knew I’d caught her, so she owned up. It doesn’t matter to me how old she is. She’s a kid, but she’s aware.”
Boyd said, “Cause you owe your life to me you keep me handy? In case you want me to drive you or run an errand? You know what it’s like, hear people talkin about you while you’re sittin there?”
“She jumped on me,” Carol said, “for calling the Glock a revolver. But I don’t think to correct me. She said it to get my attention.”
“It’s your piece,” Boyd said. “I coulda told her that.”
“It’s like playing poker,” Carol said. “Her turn comes, she says, ‘I’ll raise,’ getting everyone’s attention and reveals what it will cost the table to stay in the game. I think understating the bet would be her style. I’d love to know how much she’s won, betting with Harry’s money.”
“I’ll ask her,” Boyd said, “you swear you’ll never mention Otis Culpepper again in my hearing.”
Carol sipped her wine.