caught on then. “You bastard!” He glared at me. He sure wanted to keep Benson’s watch. “You ain’t gettin’ this watch that way, fella.”
I shrugged and reached for the pot.
“What the hell you doin’?” he squawked.
“If you’re not gonna call—”
“All right, all right, you bastard!” He peeled off Benson’s watch and threw it in the pot. “There, you’re called.”
“That makes seventeen,” I said. “You’re still eight bucks light.”
“Fuck you, fella! That goddamn watch is worth a hundred and fifty bucks!”
“I saw you buy it, friend. The price was five. That’s what you paid for it, so I guess that’s what it’s worth. You got another watch?”
“You ain’t gettin’ my watch.”
I reached for the pot again.
“Wait a minute! Wait a minute!” He pulled off his own watch.
“That’s twenty-two,” I said. “You’re still light.”
“Come on, man. My watch is worth more than five bucks.”
“A Timex? Don’t be stupid. I’m giving you a break letting you have five on it.” I reached for the pot again.
“I ain’t got nothin else.”
“Tell you what, sport. I’ll give you a buck apiece for your boots.”
“What the fuck you want my fuckin’ boots for?”
“You gonna call?”
“All right. My fuckin’ boots are in.”
“Put ’em on the table, sport.”
He scowled at me and started unlacing his boots. “There,” he snapped, plunking them down on the table, “you’re called.”
“You’re still a buck light.” I knew I was being a prick about it, but I didn’t give a damn. I get that way sometimes.
He stared at me, not saying anything.
I waited, letting him sweat. Then I dropped in on him very quietly. “Your pants ought to cover it.” Some guy laughed.
“My pants!” he almost screamed.
“On the table,” I said, pointing, “or I take the pot.”
“Fuck ya!”
I reached for the pot again.
“Wait a minute! Wait a minute!” His voice was desperate. He stood up, emptied his pockets, and yanked off his pants. He wasn’t wearing any shorts and his nudity was grossly obscene. He threw the pants at me, but I deflected them into the center of the table. “All right, you son of a bitch!” he said, not sitting down. “Let’s see your pissy little straight beat a full-fuckin’ house!” He rolled over his third seven.
“I haven’t got a straight, friend.”
“Then I win, huh?”
I shook my head. “You lose.” I pulled the joker away from the queens and the nine and slowly started turning up my buried aces. “One. Two. Three. And four. Is that enough, friend?” I asked him.
“Je-sus Christ!” some guy said reverently.
The fat man stood looking at the aces for a long time. Then he stumbled away from the table and almost ran out of the cargo hold, his fat behind jiggling with every step.
“I still say it’s a mighty hard way to play poker,” Sergeant Riker said softly as I hauled in the merchandise.
“I figured he had it coming,” I said shortly.
“Maybe so, son, maybe so, but that still don’t make it right, does it?”
And that finished my winning streak. Riker proceeded to give me a series of very expensive poker lessons. By the time I quit that night, I was back down to four hundred dollars. I sent the fat guy’s watch, boots, and pants back to him with one of his buddies, and went up on deck to get some air. The engine pounded in the steel deck plates, and the wake was streaming out behind us, white against the black water.
“Smoke, son?” It was Riker. He leaned against the rail beside me and held out his pack.
“Thanks,” I said. “I ran out about an hour ago.”
“Nice night, ain’t it?” His voice was soft and pleasant. I couldn’t really pin down his drawl. It was sort of Southern.
I looked up at the stars. “Yeah,” I said. “I’ve been down at that poker table for so long I’d almost forgotten what the stars looked like.”
The ship took a larger wave at a diagonal and rolled with an odd, lurching kind of motion.
“You still ahead of the game, son?” he asked me, his voice serious.
“A little bit,” I said cautiously.
“If it was me,” he said, “I wouldn’t go back no more. You’ve won yourself a little money, and you got your buddy’s watch back for him. If it was me, I’d just call ’er quits.”
“I was doing pretty well there for a while,” I objected. “I think I was about fifteen hundred dollars to the good before I started losing. I’ll win that back in just a few hours, the way the pots have been running.”
“You broke your string, son,” Riker said softly, looking out over the water. “You been losin’ ’cause you was ashamed of yourself for what you done to that heavyset boy.”
“I still think he had it coming to him,” I insisted.
“I ain’t arguin’ that,” Riker said. “Like as not he did. What I’m sayin’, son, is that you’re ashamed of yourself for bein’ the one that come down on him like you done. I been watchin’ you, and you ain’t set easy since that hand. Funny thing about luck—it won’t never come to a man who don’t think he’s got it comin’. Do yourself a favor and stay out of the game. You’re only gonna lose from here on out.”
I was going to argue with him, but I had the sudden cold certainty that he was right. I looked out at the dark ocean. “I guess maybe the bit about the pants was going a little too far,” I admitted.
“Yeah,” he said, “your buddy’s watch woulda been plenty.”
“Maybe I will stay out of the game,” I said. “I’m about all pokered out anyway.”
“Yeah,” he said, “we’ll be gettin’ home pretty quick anyway.”
“Couple, three days, I guess.”
“Well,”
