Pages

One Mistake

For two fifteen hour days in the biggest poker tournament of his life, Jimmy had played perfectly.  He was already thinking about his chip count for the next morning’s start when the director announced the last hand of the night.  Folding would be just fine with Jimmy, eager to get some rest, but he looked down at pocket tens in middle position and felt compelled to raise.  The only stack bigger than his called from the button and when Jimmy made a set of tens on the flop, he never saw the other guy’s set of jacks coming.  

A salesman worked for ten years at the same company and was a leading candidate to be promoted.  After meeting a young, female intern one morning and typing what he considered a light hearted email to a male co-worker about her looks, he accidentally sent it to the entire office staff.  His boss had no choice but to fire him the next day.  

A university president spent twenty years creating programs, wooing financial donors, expanding reach and resources for her students and faculty.  She covered up one scandal for fear of the damage it would do to her school’s standing.  When the same scandal made national news five years later and reporters revealed her actions, the board of trustees forced her to resign.

Exhausted and upset with himself for playing too aggressively with middle set against a bigger stack, Jimmy did the only thing he could think to do: he went to sleep and registered for a new tournament the next day.

Reconnaissance

As Joseph jumped up the subway steps at City Hall, he marveled at how long it’d been since he last set foot near Rittenhouse Square.  One could live an entire lifetime between Northern Liberties and Fishtown, he thought.

Even now he only came this way out of necessity, on a rescue mission he feared would become nothing more than reconnaissance, said fear stemming from the following text message exchange with Annabeth after she didn’t answer either of his calls:

Joseph: When you coming to JB?

Annabeth: Probably not but come to McG!

JB stood for Johnny Brenda’s.  A bar stool there having cushioned Joseph’s backside for the previous three hours, he and Garret and Suki waiting to hear from Annabeth about when she’d be joining them, Joseph felt toasty during his midnight trek on the Market-Frankford line.  At first Joseph thought McG meant McGillin’s, but then he remembered that Billy was a smoker, so it had to be McGlinchey’s.

Joseph strode through McGlinchey’s doorway and spotted them right away through the smoke filled haze.  They sat in a booth on the left side of the bar, Annabeth beside Billy, a young guy with long hair Joseph had met a few times seated across from them.  Joseph cringed, swallowed his pride, and sat next to the guy whose name he’d never remember.

“Hi,” he managed a smile as he waved at them all.

Annabeth looked in his direction, a devilish face, cigarette between her left index and middle fingers.  Billy exhaled and shook Joseph’s hand.  The young guy, who’d been jabbering away as Joseph joined them, said, “Yo dude,” and then kept talking.  Music blared, an old Velvet Underground tune, Lou Reed’s voice floating indiscriminately among the crowd, through the smoke.

When the kid stopped to breathe, Joseph said, “I’m gonna grab a drink, anyone in need?”

Billy answered, “I think we all could use one.”  The others nodded.  “Shot and a beer, you choose.”

A tall, slender bar tender with tattoos in various places, the one of a diamond on her left breast in particular catching Joseph’s unwitting eye, asked, “What can I get you?”

“Four Miller Lites and four shots of Jameson.”

He paid the fifteen bucks he owed and left a five dollar tip, carried the drinks back to the booth in two trips.

“Thank you much,” Billy said.

“Yeah, thanks dude,” the young chatterbox offered.

“Since when do you smoke?”  Joseph asked Annabeth.

“From time to time,” she said airily.

“I didn’t know.”

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Joe.”

Joseph caught a smirk on Billy’s face.

“Excuse me,” Annabeth said as she rose.  She looked back at Joseph and winked as she entered the Ladies room.

The music changed and now Nick Lowe sang, ‘Cruel To Be Kind.’

Raising his shot glass, his Yoda tattoo purposefully visible to the others, Joseph indicated for them to raise theirs.  The three men threw back their Jamesons.

“So Billy,” Joseph managed to start before the kid could talk again.  “You head back to Chicago at all?”

“Naaahhh,” Billy drew out.  “No way to get back.  Besides, Philly’s been too much fun.”

The long haired kid stayed quiet for a refreshing few moments and Joseph heard the music say, ‘it’s a very very very good sign’ just as Annabeth returned from the restroom.

She sat and pushed her shot over to Joseph.  “You want mine too?”  She asked.  “I don’t need this.”

The whiskey went down the hatch and Joseph felt his buzz kick up a notch, watched an anthropomorphic red glass ashtray throw a punch across Billy’s face.  He knew then it was time for him to head home.

“Well I was just in the neighborhood so wanted to stop in for a drink, but I gotta go.”

Annabeth eyed him quizzically, knowing he’d actually just been four neighborhoods away.

Goodbyes were said and Joseph hoped he’d catch the train before it stopped running for the night, save the eight dollar difference between that and cab fare.  He decided not to call Annabeth for a few days, give her a little space.

(Listen to the original version of Nick Lowe's 'Cruel To Be Kind' here.  For a live version performed with Wilco last month, click here.)

Whisky Cleansing

“Since we can’t hang on your birthday next week, I brought over a present.”  Garret presented Joseph with a bottle of Maker’s 46.

“Thanks dude.”

“You’re welcome.”

Joseph handed Garret a PBR and grabbed one for himself.

“Play some heads up?”

“Okay.”

Each man shuffled a deck of cards and counted out an equal number of chips.  In their regular ring game with friends they played dealer’s choice, but one-on-one they only played No Limit Hold ‘Em, tournament style for a fixed amount.

After an hour they’d each won a game and had a couple of beers.

“Why don’t we open the bottle you brought over?  Just to try it.”

“No arguments here man, I just thought you might like to save it for some other time.”

“Nah, let’s open it.”

Joseph opened the bottled and poured a glass for each of them, neat.

Another hour passed.

“This stuff is so smooth.  Just plain Maker’s is so smooth, but this stuff is . . . I don’t wanna say ‘better,’ but they’ve outdone themselves with it,” Garret said.

“Yeah man.”

An hour later, “Joe, you’re just not a good poker player.  Let’s play again, I own you.”

“How can you say that after you just bluffed away all your chips?”

Garret snickered.  “I read you right, you shoulda never called with bottom pair.”

“But you had nothing.  It was the right call, I beat you.”

“Yeah but I could’ve had something.  You’ll see next time.  Shuffle up.”

“Hang on, I’ll pour us another.”  Joseph walked to the kitchen with their glasses.  “Garret, you know there’s only about a third of this bottle left.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yep.”

“We can finish it.”

“That would be dumb.”

The game devolved into a display not much unlike two card guts, rarely seeing a flop before they were both all in.  When Joseph poured the last of the bottle, Garret tossed his deck aside, knocking over his remaining chips.

“I owe you $8.  I’ll pay you later.”

“I don’t care about the money, Garret.  The joy lies in victory.”

“Good, then I won’t pay you later.”

 Joseph raised his glass, “To the remnants of this beloved bottle, Mr. 46, you were delicious.”

“May the juice cleanse our souls.”

The doorbell rang.  As Joseph rose to see who was there, he realized for the first time that he was very drunk, his perception falling into a familiar blur.  It was Annabeth.  He’d forgotten she said she might stay over.

“You guys got wasted, what’s wrong with you?”  Annabeth laughed as she asked, but her tone disapproved.

Joseph, concentrating hard to avoid slurring his speech, offered, “Sometimes people drink a whole bottle of 46.”

“I’ll just be on my way now,” Garret said as he stood to walk home.

Annabeth fell asleep disappointed, Joseph barely making it to the bed.  The next day he felt horrible, nausea and a splitting headache barely affected by ibuprofen, wondering why.  Annabeth thought perhaps her boyfriend was an alcoholic.