thing we were most afraid of has happened. Our worst nightmare has come true. Now, itâs up to us, including Bobby, to determine what weâre going to do about it. I swear heâll show.â
âWho are you, the fucking pope?â Dean asked. âYou gonna wave your magic wand and make him walk through the door?â
âWhere do you think he is?â Nelson asked Alex. âMaybe he missed his plane. I can call the airline.â
âNah,â Alex said. âMy guess is that he hasnât been to San Francisco for a long time and heâs taking a tour, Noë Valley, Baker Beach, you know, the old stomping grounds. Itâs hard for him. He doesnât know what to expect from us any more than we know what to expect from him.â
âMaybe we should do the same thing,â Charlie piped up. âLetâs play tourist. Letâs forget the game and go to one of the old Irish bars in the Mission. Letâs go to the Dovre Club and get fucked up.â
âWeâre here to play cards,â Alex asserted, mildly alarmed that the game might be slipping away. âEven if Bobby shows, poker is the main event.â
âYouâre a poker junkie, Alex,â Nelson said. âWe all know that. Youâre crazy. And you,â he said, pointing a finger at Charlie, âyouâre losing, so shut up.â
âThe Dovre Club!â Dean exclaimed with a gleeful laugh. âHot stuff. All right.â
âShit,â Alex said.
âSorry, Wiz,â Dean said, âbut we have all weekend. Maybe Charlie can find another player tomorrow.â
âNelson, would you rather play or party?â Alex asked.
âI donât care. If these guys want to go to the Dovre Club and make fools of themselves, I donât give a shit.â
âI have an idea,â Alex said brightly. âLetâs make the game more interesting. Letâs raise the stakes to a hundred dollar ante.â
âLeave it alone, Wiz,â Dean said. âLook, the game isnât working with only four players. Thatâs too bad, but thatâs the way it is.â
âI didnât fly three thousand miles to go bar-hopping,â Alex protested, petulant.
âThen why donât you go down to Artichoke Joeâs,â Dean hissed, naming a well-known local card room.
A look of undisguised horror blanched Alexâs face. After a long, long pause he said, âYou know I canât do that. I canât even think about that.â
Dean immediately regretted his faux pas and apologized. âSorry, Alex. Iâm sorry. Really, I didnât mean it.â
âAh, what the hell,â Alex conceded. âEvery year the game goes haywire one way or another, but usually not until the second night. The wild card usually keeps it interesting until he goes broke.â
âYou mean until you skin him alive.â
âYeah.â
âYouâve got a fat head sometimes,â Dean said. âAnd if it gets rough, youâd better have the cards.â
âDonât worry about it,â Alex said. âI used to beat him left, right, and upside the head.â
âExcept for the last time.â
âDonât worry about it,â Alex reiterated.
Edgy, inhaling several slow, deep breaths, Alex started doing card tricks to keep his hands busy. For a moment he contemplated going to Artichoke Joeâs, sitting down, and never getting up. Maybe he wouldnât lose everything, and if he did, so what? After tonight it might not make any difference.
14
The doorbell chimed, followed by a loud rap on the door. They froze. For a moment the only sound in the room was a scratchy old recording of Johnny Cashâs ballad of addiction and redemption, âI Walk the Line.â
âHoly shit,â Charlie squealed, jumping up. âIâll get it.â
Dean pointed a threatening finger at Nelson and said, âThis better not be one
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