The final four kept one eye on their chips and the other on the nimble fingers of the dealer as he dealt each of us two cards. The stacks were almost even.
To my left, crouching low over the lip of the table, Silent Joe focused on the same spot he had been staring at for nearly two hours. Unlike the others, he did not check his cards until the betting arrived at his doorstep. His drab, vacant expression revealed nothing. Even during the previous hand when he knocked out Billy Boy Boyd with triple Kings and was awarded two-hundred thousand he did not tweak an eyebrow or curl the corner of a lip. Joe was not a gambler. He waited to pounce like a Venus flytrap when the deck went his way but if it did not he folded. A simple game plan to be sure, some would say foolhardy, but Silent Joe was amongst the best.
The Joker flipped a chip over each of his knuckles, eager to begin. He sat directly opposite me and had tried his usual shtick to harass and harangue. Pretty Polly had become so disgusted at one of his filthy jokes that she saw his all-in just for the chance of ridding her of his presence. With his broad grin and a mouthful of narrow teeth, he flipped an Ace to beat her King and had laughed her all the way out of the room. It was all an act, of course, designed to jolt your nerves but it worked only on a certain type of player. Instead of letting the howls exasperate me I often butted in to ruin his punch lines. It was an effective backfire, denting his ego while simultaneously piercing his masquerade. He laughed it off but only after I’d taken several thousand chips from his stash. His Small Blind bet of twenty thousand swayed by his palms.
The third of our quartet was the Queen of the Heartbreakers, Suzie Lous. Doe-eyed, with long lashes and pink cheeks, Suzie gave the impression that she had just disembarked from a ship as a Poker virgin. The innocent charade baited many a sailor to his doom by the blonde siren as she scrubbed the deck of the unworthy. Her stack was slightly smaller than my own having lost a war with Silent Joe on the previous hand. I could sense retribution in the air. She had drawn the Big Blind bet – forty thousand was needed to bet against her.
And then there was me. Ace. Number One. I was the champion of champions, the king of the hill, and blessed with luck most lottery pundits would kill for. They called me the Final Bullet because I’d drawn a winning Bullet – an Ace – on the final upturned card more times in one game than there seemed Aces. For show, I routinely rested my wrists on the table to turn up my shirt cuffs proving I had no hidden cards there. What can I say? I’m blessed. Now I had a tournament to win.
“Bullet, the betting is on you. Forty thousand to call.”
I carefully folded the edge of my cards up a fraction: Ace of Clubs, 8 of Hearts. Two sets of eyes scrutinized my every facial muscle; Silent Joe’s neck did not budge. I moved my hand to my stack.
“Forty-thousand,” I said. I counted off the chips and pushed them out.
“Forty-thousand to call,” the dealer said pointing to the man on my left.
Silent Joe paused before glancing down at his cards. His dead stare revealed he had a pair of Aces; or a pair of Threes; or a Seven and a Two. I knew more about brain surgery than I did Joe’s hand. He threw his chips in to call and turned the play over to the Joker.
“I once met a girl who loved to gamble,” he began. “Being a bit of betting man myself I asked her what her biggest loss was. ‘Forty G,’ she replied. I said, ‘That’s not too bad. I’ve had worse.’ She shook her head. ‘Not when your cup size is that big and they’ve taken your blouse already!’.”
He roared at his own joke as Suzie chuckled into her hand. The Joker called the bet and Suzie Lous bit her lip. She lifted a fistful of chips and I sensed a raise. It was a feint, a clever ploy to ensnare the undisciplined into revealing the strength of their hand. Joe, Joker and I were far from foolhardy to be caught in her trap. Instead, she checked to finish the round.
The dealer put the top card from the deck onto the table to burn it then placed the next three face-up. The reveal of the first three cards called the Flop showed the Ace of Spades, Ten of Clubs and Nine of Spades. With my Ace of Clubs buried under my palm, I had a Pair. From the corner of my eye, Suzie Lous wiggled her finger around her hair. It was a tell that I had played on in the past until she realized her mistake and had dropped it. The deliberate sign made me nervous. Had she two Tens in her custody already? With two Spades showing she might be aiming for the Flush – having five cards with the same Suit – which gave her nothing at present. The Joker’s smile had dimmed. The Flop had not been generous. Silent Joe did not quiver an inch.
It fell to the Joker to check or bet. He chose to check, passing the betting on to Suzie Lous. The Queen of Heartbreakers wet her lips and tapped the table twice. Perhaps she had nothing after all. Texas Hold-Em is the most psychologically dextrous form of Poker in my opinion. A player could be sitting on a monster of a hand and still decide not to bet. Then on the final River card BAM! See you, wouldn’t want to be you. I’ve had the pleasure of doing just that to the grinning idiot sitting opposite and it couldn’t happen to a nicer person.
The play was now with me. I decided to get things moving. “Bet forty thousand,” I said.
It was a clear sign that I had an Ace or better and would hopefully weed out the chaff. Joe seemed to ponder the bet. With a Nine and Ten on the board, there was a possible High Straight where five of the cards would run in sequence. In characteristic fashion, he called without moving his lips. It was on to the Joker.
“I’ll be honest, I’m holding a Pair of Tens,” he said with a grin. “So I will see your forty and raise you double.”
The bet was one-hundred and twenty thousand. The Joker’s eyes danced to each player as if daring us to fold. The Queen of Heartbreakers fluttered her golden lashes at him.
“Honey, that’s no match for my hand,” she said and called the bet.
The play had returned to me. To continue I would have to pay an extra eighty thousand. That Suzie had called the Joker’s bet with such ease gave me cause for concern but with an Ace in my pocket and a prayer in my soul, I pushed in my chips to call. Silent Joe followed.
The dealer burnt the next card called the Turn and I saw my prayer being answered. An Eight of Spades descended from the heavens to garner me with two Pair: Aces and Eights. I am not a superstitious person and was thrilled with the arrival of the Dead Man’s Hand. Wild Bill Hickok met his end with exactly this hand in the Wild West when he was shot in the back, but hey, I’m the Final Bullet, not the Blindsided Bullet. The Turn made little impact on Silent Joe’s temperament but the Joker was bouncing.
“I’ve got three Eights!”
“Honey, a minute ago you had three Tens,” Suzie said.
“You must have misheard me,” the Joker replied. “Nobody hates Trip Eights.”
Suzie Lous shook her head then returned to twiddling with her hair.
I had a tough decision to make. With three Spades on the board for a possible Flush and a Straight available, my two Pair was weak. Weakness never wins in Poker.
“I’m all-in.”
My announcement was met by a snort of derision and a gasp of disbelief. Even Silent Joe took a glimpse at me. The dealer counted my remaining chips. “That’s one-hundred thousand to call,” he said.
Silent Joe nodded his consent. He slid his remaining stack forwards without a whisper.
“Money is about even. Joker to call.”
The Joker smiled at the dealer then to me. “You got big balls, Bullet, I’ll give you that.”
“Still have three Eights?” I asked.
“Eights? I meant Aces,” he said with a mischievous twinkle in his eye. “And I can smell a bluff. Phew.” He wafted his hand over his nose.
“Show me you have a pair,” I said.
He smirked but did not speak. I began to drum my fingers. Then checked my watch. Then yawned.
“Any time this year,” I said.
“Call.”
The Joker toppled his chips. He was in. That left the only female in our little ensemble.
“Suzie, will you call?” said the dealer.
Suzie Lous’s fingers had trapped in the wound curls of her hair. She bit her lip. To most, it would indicate indecision but immediately I knew I was in trouble.
“I’m not sure,” she said.
It was the best bluff of the tournament.
“Oh well, why not?” she said.
The pot was one million, chips stacked to the ceiling. This was it.
“Turn them over,” said the dealer.
I flipped my cards all the while staring at the table. Silent Joe threw a Seven of Diamonds and a Jack of Hearts: a Straight Run! Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten and a Jack; but it could be beaten by a Jack and Queen. The Joker was limping with a King of Spades and Eight of Clubs: a small Pair but with the chance of a high Flush. Suzie Lous was in front. She had collected a Flush with her Ten and Three of Spades.
“Oh, I seem to have five cards of the same Suit,” she said.
“Looks like the lady’s a winner,” the Joker said and laughed.
I needed a miracle. Silent Joe was out. If another Spade appeared the Joker would walk as the victor. Suzie Lous fanned her blushing cheeks. The dealer readied the final card: the River.
“Ace of Diamonds.”
“Of all the luck …” The Joker’s smile had vanished. Suzie Lous’s mouth was agape. Silent Joe gave me a nod.
“Full House. Bullet wins,” said the dealer.
Three Aces, two Eights. I shrugged, trying to restrain my jubilation. I had won the million on the final Bullet – my namesake.
“Officer Johnston!”
My name being bellowed brought me to an immediate standing attention. The others followed suit as the Senior Officer marched in.
“What have I told you about gambling during your lunch break?” the S.O. barked. “If the prisoners are not permitted to gamble then neither are you. Clear up these matchsticks and begin the unlock.”
Meekly I slid the matchstick chips into my bag and pocketed my winnings – ten half-ounces of tobacco – and returned to my station.
