Tim IV

At first the thought entertained him. A steamboat meandering the calm waters and swampy deltas. He imagined people dancing to a lively jazz band, smoking, drinking, and of course gambling. It seemed so very miscreant. So very sinful and entertaining. It reminded him of better days when people could degrade one another in plain sight. Be nefarious with their deeds right in front of others while scooping up the wealth and laughing as they stole candy from babies. 

Nowadays it was not so overt. It had to be done behind the scenes. Because bad things had to happen to good people. Not that there were many of those. Doing so kept him in business but made him a rather shady sorts. Back then he could have sold people into slavery and be lauded for it. Nowadays oppressing people he found was so much more boring. Less burning down their home and more of making up rules they wouldn’t question. Less blackmailing a government official and more giving them some cash above the board. Less knocking off a reporter who asked too many questions and more boring the general public to death with bullshit and lies.

Sure there was a finesse to it. But where was the style? Where was his tommy gun in a violin case? 

What a time to be alive. 

Riverboat gambling however was not a thing anymore. He knew that once upon a time to allow gambling the casino would have to be floating in the water. It was a loophole of sorts. He loved a loophole as much as the next person and it was a shame that people moved away from it. But of course they did. People were fat and lazy and always wondering why things were a certain way, especially if it hindered them in the slightest. Soon they agreed having them on the dock was fine enough. Technically they were right, the boats were on the water and thus legal, but again, style was impeached. 

He sighed.

Now only a few were like that. Floating, leaking, soggy monsters that sat on the edge of the docks. Eventually even that was too much of a hassle and they allowed gambling on land. Of course they did. Humans have such romantic goals that only dwindle as tradition dies with each passing generation. 

If only people still built pyramids because they wanted to prove they had a big important prick. That’s timeless entertainment.

“Will I have to clock you?” The man three seats to his right asked.

Tim smiled using only his lips. 

He played with his hat that sat on his lap. He brushed the plume of feathers. (This act could be seen as nervousness but it was not. No, it was not). The other hand rapped against the poker table. The soft felt under his bony fingers made joyless thuds. The man who talked at Tim only got a cold gaze in reply. Which made the man swallow nervously, his double chins shaking. He was wearing a sweat stained baby blue polo. Not a nice brand based on how the collar curled back on the corners. He had thick glasses. A black goatee that was darker than his hair, which was long and tied in a ponytail. The man named ‘Jay’ looked around bemused. “I mean it’s just the flop? Either you have something or you don’t.” He said. The woman next to him shrugged. She was down to her last chips and folded at the piddly pre-flop bet.

Tim took his time to roll some chips across the back of his hand. He had six hundred and ninety five dollars stacked neatly in front of him. “Oh I have something for you alright.” Tim finally said.

He placed down three, fifty dollar chips. 

The man next in the betting order moaned. Just a young man in a hoodie wearing headphones. A real world poker series wannabe. Tim knew he would make a go at the Vegas scene and be back before the month ends or sucking dick for more cash. He, in-turn, folded.

The fat tourist next to him wearing a NOLA shirt and a Saints hat looked to his wife behind him. She shook her head. “Too rich for my blood,” He said and folded as well. He gave her a thumbs up while she just stared at Tim rapping his fingers on the felt. She was the best poker player here Tim knew. But she was silent like a perched gargoyle. Watching her husband embarrass himself.

The dealer was next in order and his head flipped to his left. Like dominos the woman who had already folded turned to the man between her and Jay. A slender black man who had too much money in front of him and too little sense of what else to spend it on. He called the bet, throwing just a small amount of his pile in. One hundred and fifty dollars was not much to him it seemed. Good. Taking money from folks was always fun.

The only one left was Jay. Back to him. The annoying brat took a breath. His piddly pre-flop bet before him would need to be raised tenfold if he wanted to stay in this hand. He was entertaining that idea to himself. In poker it is important to be tactful, emotionless, hard to read.

Jay was not any of those things

He bit his lip and groaned, bouncing his knee nervously. “You can’t keep buying these pots.” He said and thought for a moment more while looking at his two cards again. The act inspired Tim. He snapped his fingers so loud and quick it made Jay jump and the black man crack a smile.

“I should do that!” Tim said. He peeled back his two cards and eyed them. His face never changing. “Haven’t even looked at my cards.” He continued then motioned to the three cards on the table. “And these are important too.” 

The flop so it was called. Three cards that offered hope to the two others held in your hand. Everyone shared the flop. Everyone's dreams collectively rested on what laid before them all. Or even more deliciously was smashed asunder as the next cards came o’ thundering down. 

He enjoyed poker for small things like this. The tables were brimming with such varied emotions he could taste it, and they were always seething under the normal visages. Beneath the persed mouths, the heavy sighs, the crack of smiles. And most of the time amateurs and professionals alike would scream in happiness and cry in pain if they won or lost. The calm etiquette broken as lots of money traded hands. Those explosions were always so…So... So human. It was a welcome release from his dreary work week, and more difficult work was ahead. More good people that needed bad things to happen to them.

So while thinking all this in small milliseconds, bringing Tim a true thin smile to his lips, he eyed each card before him. The three were as follows; The king of hearts, nine of spades, and five of hearts.  

“How interesting are those cards?” Tim said to the other two men. “So many possibilities huh? It’s like a child when he is born and he shows great promise?” He mimed holding a baby in his long slender fingers. He even made a kissy face to it. It was disturbing in how twisted it was, the odd gesture in this setting lacked any warmth. “People look at that baby and say, oh he’s going places, he just picks up on everything! He’s so social too. All the other children adore him. The teachers say he always helps pick up the kids that fall on the playground. He even chooses the kid with cerebral palsy first for dodgeball! How sweet!”

Jay looked to his neighbor. “What is he talking about?” He uttered. 

The black man was smiling and clapping. “You are a weird one, man!” He said. A woman wearing faux fur sauntered up behind him and placed a mocha dipped hand on his shoulder. 

“Yeah hold on honey, I’ll take a break in a minute.” He said as he slid his hand over hers. She turned her nose up and away from him. Staring off into the flashing lights and noise of Keno machines and the little old Japanese women that seemed to live in front of them.

Tim raised his eyebrows. “I’m talking about you Jay. Don’t look to Maurice on this one he’s gonna fold anyway. It’s me talking to you and I'm wondering if you're gonna let me keep buying these pots or not? Like you stated earlier.”

Jay again, did just that. He looked at his neighbor, this so-called Maurice, who no longer smiled. It had dropped so quickly like you drop a scalding skillet.. “How do you know my name?” He said stupidly. Tim was silent. Maurice looked back at Jay, whose face was growing flush. “He’s right, I'm bouncing on this one.” He gave one uneasy chuckle before leaning back in his seat, arms crossed. “Fucking Boogieman,” He said under his breath.

“You should play poker instead of talking,” Jay said as he forked over his bet. He called the remaining chips, one hundred and fifty dollars was before him as well. He then raised fifty more. A solid re-raise if he wants to keep his opponent on the hook. Tim immediately called and watched Maruince fold and step away from the table. Hurrying away with his lady. Trying not to look back as his chips waited for him to return. He wouldn’t be back until Tim was gone. Everyone knew. While Tim noticed these things he talked some more to Jay’s chagrin.

“You were totally right, you know? To bet and raise and such. That flop was so juicy so full of hope it was a no-brainer to invest in it. To tie just a few more dreams to it. A little more pride.” He held his finger and thumb up together and enunciated ‘few’ in a squeaky voice. “I’m sure your mother did the same to you. I mean as the oldest in the family. You were the highlight were you not?”

He was visibly red now. And shifting in his seat. “My mother loved all her children dearly.” He laughed uncomfortably. “She was proud of all of them.”

“BUT!” He interrupted. “She didn’t invest two hundred sssmacks on the other ones! That’s a big investment.” He wagged his finger. “I mean look at the cards here. They are a compassionate leader!” He pointed to the king. “They are so so so smart!” He pointed at the nine. “Best of all, they are strong and quick.” He pointed to the five. “The future is bright. So bright! Maybe he’ll play quarterback in Dallas one day. Betting these cards are gonna get you a house… A house of chips is what you want, aint’ it?”

The dealer was growing tired of this discussion and signaled the pit boss to come over and watch. He was a big bald eastern european looking fellow and stood behind the dealer, waiting to step in (He really didn’t want to, in fact, his heart was set on culinary school not catching people cheating or kicking drunk fools out of here, but that’s another story). For now he watched, everyone did as the dealer burned one card and then placed another one face up, doing so just about at the end of Tim’s tirrade.  

“Oh,” Tim said. Pointing to the card. An ace of diamonds. “You know why they call that one the turn right? Because it changes everything. And it did. It really did.” He shook his head dramatically. “That’s not what you want. Is it? Now that investment is souring. You gotta think ‘uh oh, they’re are some red flags here.’ That's a greedy little card that showed up. That means, when he doesn’t get what he wants... when things don’t go his way, he just throws in the towel. That's not what winners do is it? That’s not what you do? Now on the playground as the kids catch up in racing and mathematics. You lose interest in that stuff. You think, ‘well shit. playing tee-ball wasn't so fun anyway’. Or you know what ‘reading is stupid’ becasue little Julie beat you at the spelling bee with the word Aardvark.” Each syllable in aardvark was enunciated perfectly. “Soon everyone has caught up. And soon that promising flop… Well it isn’t so promising anymore. Now it's a fuck up. Now it's a money sink. Now you’d be stupid to tie your hopes and dreams to it. Disappointing.”  

Jay stared furiously at the cards. He checked. Not betting. Eyes turned to Tim.

“You know I can’t let you get away with that. You bet two hundred last time. So I'll bet two hundred in turn.” He pushed the chips out there precisely. Lining up the edges with the edge of the design on the felt. “It’s not over though. You still have a chance of redemption. I know what you're chasing. You want... Well… You want what your face looks like right now.” He cackled like a whooping hyena. “All those aspirations could come true in the eleventh hour, you just need a little luck. A little luck. Even still there’s hope. Found in the smallest of places. That's how most people make it anyways. Right? A little luck? That’s probably why you are here right now. Sitting here with me, trying to get a little lucky, looking at such a familiar story!” He spread out his hands, almost presenting the cards on the table to Jay once more. Like they hadn’t been in front of him this whole time. Maybe it was the fact they looked so different now to the man but he looked like he wanted to vomit as his narrowed pupils traced over them once more. 

“A story you know well huh? One your family knows well. Your friends that come and go…” Jay was staring at the chips in front of him, eyes turned downwards. They were red and watering. Most likely from the physical effort of holding his anger in. Or something else. Maybe Tim had struck a chord. 

He didn’t feel like stopping. “It’s almost like these cards are made for you.” He said. “Now all you need is something big. Turn it all around. Cause those cards… They let you down, didn't they? They didn’t turn out all that grand, did they? A fat failure huh?”

Jay breathed hard out of his pinched nose. The air rushed out in a humorous slide-whistle fashion. He then readjusted his glasses that had slipped down his bridge due to his perspiration. The sweat as well was now showing through his shirt, above his belly and under his sagging pecs. He looked towards the dealer and the pit boss. Pleading for help with his eyes. The pit boss readjusted his tie and shrugged. The others at the table gawked at him. 

Waiting.

“Alright.” He pushed a large pile forward, matching the bet of two hundred once more. Then he placed out a green chip. A one hundred dollar raise. He only held a scraping of his chips left. Maybe around a hundred and fifty more. The rest was out on the table. He then used the last shred of dignity to stare at Tim.

“Beautiful,” was all Tim said.

They both had the majority of their stacks out there. The pot had grown fat. Bigger than what either one of them started with and it drew Jay in. He shifted in his seat. Almost salivating. The dealer nodded to each of them. Tim smiled. “Let’s see if Jay can pull it back. Let’s see if the fates are on his side. Cause you know you don’t have the nuts anymore do ya?”

He waved a hand at him.

The dealer burned another card and then placed the last one face up. The players around leaned forward. All trying to get the first glimpse of the card. It was a four of clubs. Jay didn’t flinch but his eyes focused on something else. Like he was staring through the table.

“What an ugly card!” Tim said. “What a fat disappointing card for you. To everyone.” He tssk’ed through his teeth. 

“What? You got aces?” Jay asked. Still red faced, still staring through the table. “You are gonna let him talk to me like that? He said desperately to the pit boss, the bald man did not move. 

“Jay. Jay.” He paused trying to meet the man's eyes. “It doesn’t matter what I have. It’s about what you have. You missed it friend-o. You missed your boat. It sailed off without you on the river. Cause you weren't paying attention. Everyone else worked and you were too busy playing and when they got better at playing than you. Then what did you do? You didn’t do anything, did you?”

Jay knocked on the table weakly. “I check.”

“Just like that.” Tim said. “Nothing. Not enough then and not enough now.” He leaned over looking at the stacks of chips. “How much you have? Here. I'll bet.” He placed over a hundred in front of him. “I’ll bet one hundred and sixty six. That will leave me a little under thirty dollars, insurance if you will. And that will leave you with four bucks. Not enough for the small blind but enough to get a bus home to your momma.”

Jay slapped the table. Chips clicked together and a pile in front of the tourist fell over. His thick fingers fumbled while stacking them back. The pit boss stepped in but Jay raised his hands in an apologetic motion. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” he said. He wafted his shirt trying to get some air to his heaving chest. He adjusted his glasses. He breathed deep. “If I fold, will you tell me what you have?”

The man strumming his feathered hat thought for a moment. His eyes up and to the right. He pursed his lips and then leaned in. “You know what I have. BUT if you want to see it to believe it… If it will make you sleep better at night… Sure. I will. There’s nothing wrong with how you played. Nothing wrong with chasing… It’s smart to give up before it’s too late.”

He in return nodded to himself. Played with the small stack of chips he had left, thought a moment then Jay scooted his cards forward. “I fold,” he said.

Tim nodded. “That’s brave.”and threw his cards, face down, to the dealer and started collecting his chips he had won. 

“You said you’d tell me?” Jay had raised his chin somewhat.

Tim laughed. “I lied. That’s life.” he shrugged.

Jay shot his arms forward and grabbed at the cards Tim threw out. The dealer yelled. The pit boss slammed a meaty hand over Jay’s. He had just enough movement to flip the cards. The irate man in the baby blue polo was screaming obscenities. His eyes went wide behind his knocked crooked glasses. 

Tim shook his head at the commotion. He simply collected his winnings and walked away as Jay screamed at him. Security was on top of him and pulling him back. Like a swarming pack of predators on a weak mule deer. “YOU BASTARD!” Jay screamed. “LYING BASTARD! I KNEW IT! FUCK YOU! YOU MOUTHY FREAK!”

~

The man with the feather in his hat had hopped, skipped and sauntered down the wide stone steps into the bustling evening street. He could see more neon lights and merriment off to his right. But that’s not what he was interested in. He went the other way. Finding a grid of narrow alleyways among the tall high rises. The air swam with the smell of trash and human excretions. The humidity didn’t help as it laid on him like a wet blanket. His suit would need a wash after this. 

He walked until off in one alleyway he saw who he was looking for. 

He walked past a dumpster, over a large sewer grate that a family could fall into if opened, and saw the bundle of sheets and dirty jackets. He nudged the pile with his crocodile skin boots. Nothing. He leaned one hand against the grey brick alley wall and gave another swift kick.

“Ow, fuck” is what the sheets said.

“Get up please” He said in a sing-song voice. He took two steps back and crouched down. So that he was on eye level as out of the pile of dirty clothes a woman appeared. She was maybe late 20’s but looked in her 40’s with all the missing teeth. Her dirty blonde hair was braided nicely for her slumber. She was not filthy but still carried that sweet amonia smell of unwashed pubes and un-starched clothes. 

There was immediate concern on her face. She reached for a bat propped up next to the wall. Tim just flayed out his fingers. Showing himself to be no threat. It must have worked, she didn’t swing on him but instead held the bat out in front of her. Like an old timey railway yard bouncer.

“What do you want?” She said, then coughed and steadied herself. Blinking sleep away.

“I have a gift.” He said as he slowly reached into his jacket pocket. He pulled out the winnings for the night. “Here is over a thousand bucks. I want you to have it.” He pushed it forward. Her eyes widened and she looked around as if she was in a dream or a prank show. Her hand went out for it. But Tim pulled it back slightly.  

“Do you know why they are called Bucks?” He asked. The money was almost hovering in the air between them. 

“What?”

He bounced the stack of hundreds in his hand. “Bucks? You know why they call it that?”

“Uh,” She shook her head no.

“In the seventeen hundreds they traded deerskins for dollars. Deerskins was a very lucrative business. I mean this country was built on slave agriculture and hunting and trapping practically. What a violent birth, no? People don’t like to remember that.” He paused looking at her.

“Are you going to try something on me, mister?” She swallowed and gripped her bat tightly. “You’re scaring me a little. I wasn’t begging for your money or anything.”

“That's right you weren’t.” He smiled, but it only scared her more.

“Do you want me to..? To do anything for the money?” She asked hesitantly. A small sound of curiosity was placed under her tone. Like she couldn't comprehend what was really happening still. People didn’t just give you all this money. Not without wanting something. Very intuitive.  

“No. No.” He shook his head. “I thought you could use the money. It’s a gift! Am I wrong?”

“I could REALLY use it.” Redirecting her eyes on the stack she almost looked like a starving animal staring at a meal. But it seemed so wrong. Like this meal was placed delicately on a bear trap. And if someone could describe Tim clearly... A shining bear trap of a man, might not be a bad description. 

“You could.” He thought. “You could clean yourself up a bit. Buy new clothes... or at least wash the ones you got. Hell, you could stay at a motel for weeks. Get off the street some.” He snapped his fingers. “I got it! With this you could put a security deposit down somewhere to stay. Go and print yourself some resumes, start handing them out. This could change your life.” He placed the stack of bills into her quivering hand. The feel of the paper on her palm steadied the shaking. She gripped it tight. Taking her eyes off the dangerous man for only a second. Far too long. 

Thankfully, nothing came of it. Tim was already standing up and walking away.

“Thank you!” She shouted after him. Finally able to stand to her feet. A smile spread across her face and even in the dim light it glowed. She looked her age then, beaming at the man already turning the corner. 

“You could use it for other things of course!” He had paused at the end of the alleyway. One hand dragged against the brick corner. He looked out from under his hat, side-eyeing her as he had stopped midstep. “You could go to that man along MLK street. You know the one. Behind the gas station.” He checked his watch. “I believe he’s there now. But that would be… Foolish. Now wouldn’t it?” He chuckled and disappeared around the corner and became the night. Gone. Just like that. Like a strange dream. She was left with his odd laughter stuck in her head. Reverberating around it. And what he said of course… 

She was left all alone. So very alone. The weight of the money in her hand was all the company she had.