Pokergeist (17 page)

Sweat broke out on Rob’s forehead as he considered his cards and looked back at Telly. He pushed his pile into the center. “I’m all in.”

Telly exposed his cards, his face impassive. The table murmured with surprise.

“I knew I had you,” Rob crowed, showing his pocket queens.

Telly shrugged. Another player defended him, saying, “It’s not over yet, Couts.”It was clear Telly was fast becoming a favorite.

It didn’t look good, and everyone knew it. Telly’s two cards were ace of hearts and ten of spades.

“This looks serious, folks. It could be the end of the road for the new guy on the block,” Stu predicted as tension mounted.

The turn came and went, with no improvement for Telly.

Kevin whispered, as if his voice could affect the game, “Only an ace can save Telly ‘No Tells’ at this point.”

“Here comes the river! One time!” Clutch yelled.

Telly stood, repeating “One time” like a prayer.

Kevin reported, “Telly just asked for his One Time. And only an ace, as I said before, will save him and send Rob Couts home.”

The dealer flipped the card, and the crowd exploded with excitement as an ace of diamonds floated onto the felt.

Couts’s jaw dropped, no sound coming out of his mouth.

Telly looked up without a smile. “It’s time for you to leave.”

“That’s what I’m talking about!” Clutch did a Texas two-step around the table, and Telly found himself entering the next phase of the championship as more players were culled.

CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

“L
ooks like we have a huge chip leader already, Kevin,” Stu said from his spot on the mezzanine in the broadcast center.

“Yup, newcomer to the game Telly ‘No Tells’ Martin waltzed into the convention center—wait, scratch that—
stormed
into the convention center and has become a chip magnet.”

The camera zoomed in on two men alone at a table, both standing. “I call.” The Series winner from four years ago squared off on his end of the table. “Come on, baby, gimme hearts,” he prayed out loud.

To the left of the room, the rows of chairs formed a gallery for the spectators. It had thinned out except for die-hard poker fans. Reporters stayed in their roped-off section taking notes. There was an ongoing party in an adjoining room, Telly had heard. He knew many of the players’ family members were in there watching on large screens. His breath hitched, lodging in his heart at the knowledge that there was no one watching and rooting for him. No one at all.

The dealer turned the next card. The camera panned the room. All attention rested on Telly and the world-class player with whom he was locked in battle. A soft curse filled the silence as another player kissed his chips good-bye.

“Did Telly Martin just knock out Harvey Fishbeck?” Stu asked, his face stunned from the move.

“If I didn’t see it with my own eyes, I wouldn’t believe it, Stu. He is known as the best player in the world.” Kevin was laughing, wiping tears from his eyes.

“I tell you what, you couldn’t see anything from the expression on his face. Telly ‘No Tells’ is right. The man is devoid of emotion,” Stu confirmed.

“He has the same look on his face I did when my third wife told me she was leaving. I didn’t know what hit me.” Keven chuckled.

“Talk about knowing your opponent. Telly Martin is a new force to be reckoned with.”

The camera caressed Telly’s face. There were already a Twitter account and a Facebook page devoted to his every move, and he didn’t even realize it.

“Come on, Telly. Don’t be mad at me. Lighten up. We’re making real headway. By the way, seat six has a jack-queen.” Clutch meandered around the table. “Seat seven here is holding king-four. Seat eight has a pair. Seat nine has…hey, what is it now?”

“I have to go to the bathroom,” Telly said, slowly getting to his feet. His knees had locked; he staggered with fatigue.
How could anyone think this is fun?
he thought. Everything hurt.

“I’ll alert the press,” an older man with an old frayed Dodgers cap on his head said snidely. He took it off and brushed back his comb-over.

Clutch walked ahead of him, bouncing and chattering away. They came around the bend, and both of them stopped cold in their tracks. Gretchen was emerging from the ladies’ room, her face white. Ginny stood leaning against the wall, a balled-up tissue in her hand. Ruby stood next to her, rubbing her back.

“Gretchen!” Telly ran forward to hug her. “I’m sorry.”

She opened her arms, falling into his embrace. “Telly!” She burst into tears. “I know you’re telling the truth. There really is a ghost.”

“I would never lie to you.” He pressed his face next to her head.

“Neither would I.” She kissed him full on the lips.

Clutch turned, his face nasty. “All right then. Ask her why she swapped spit with Cooty Man.”

Telly shook his head. “I don’t care if she kissed Rob.”

“Telly, let me explain,” she said urgently.

“You don’t have to, Gretch. I’m good at reading people, and there’s no one I like reading more than you.”

She pulled him down for another kiss, but before their lips touched, she whispered, “Thick.”

Telly didn’t have the words to respond. He showed her.

Gretchen rested her head against his chest and said, “Telly, I have to tell you something.”

“Later. I have to get back. If I don’t finish, he’ll never leave us alone. All I want is to be alone with you.”

Clutch made gagging noises. He turned to Ginny, “Are you watching this, Gin? Is it making you as sick as it’s making me? Looking good, baby. I missed you.”

Ginny and Ruby watched the other couple. “I think he’s the chip leader.” Ginny gestured to Telly.

“If Dad was here, he wouldn’t be,” Ruby said as they linked arms.

“That’s m’girl,” Clutch said proudly. He placed his arm around Ginny. “I’d like to catch up with you, babe, but I got a lot to do.”

“You know,” Ginny said to Ruby, “I thought it would hurt more coming here today.”

“Me too,” Ruby agreed.

Clutch stopped well,
dead
, in his tracks. He paused to listen to them, his face changing from confidence to hurt.

“Yes, it’s like a chapter is closing.” Ginny had a dreamy smile on her face as they walked toward the exit. “I spoke to Stan. You’ll come with us. He’s going to give you a spot to apprentice in one of his restaurants. In the fall, you’ll come back for the culinary institute, if they accept you.”

“Oh, I’m going to make it.” Their voices faded as they left the corridor.

“Hey, now!” Clutch felt an emptiness envelop him. He spied the white-haired angel leaning against the wall. “What are you doing here?” he asked grumpily.

“You snooze, you lose.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Clutch followed Sten as he walked down the hallway toward the convention center.

“Figure it out for yourself,” Sten responded as he disappeared.

Clutch saw Ginny and Ruby walking toward the poker room. If he’d had a breath, it would have left him with a
whoosh
. “Ginny…” he sighed.

“What’s he like?” Gretchen whispered as she looked around the hallway. The fluorescent lights left nothing to the imagination, but she still looked for strange, moving shadows.

“He’s back there, moping,” Telly said as he pointed behind him. “It’s like being with a Yosemite Sam cartoon on repeat.”

Gretchen giggled. Telly looked down at her pretty face. It was almost three in the morning. Her mascara had run and her hair was sticky with God only knew what, but Telly thought she was the most beautiful girl on earth. He cupped her face and whispered, “Thin…I got to go. Try to get in the front. It won’t be long now, and we can go home for a few hours.”

“Oh, get a room already,” Clutch said, standing next to them.

Gretchen pulled away from Telly. “Is he near us?”

“Practically on top of us.”

“I mean it—get a room. They’ll comp you one. We have to be on our A game tomorrow,” Clutch said.

“Let me go and finish this game, and then we’ll get out of here.” He walked toward the entrance to the poker room. “Wish me luck.”

“You don’t need it. I’ll be waiting.”

CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE

T
elly did indeed ask for a room. He and Gretchen spent the night in the hotel. The hotel phone rang early, Kevin Franklyn’s voice coming through the receiver.

“Did I wake you?” the announcer asked.

Telly sat up, rubbing his eyes. “No, not really—um, yes, you did. Who is this?”

“Kevin Franklyn. I was hoping to do an interview with you before they set up the final three tables.”

Telly reached over for his watch. “What time?”

“Half hour.”

“It’s going to be more like an hour.” Telly hung up.

“You’re in the big time now.” Clutch was sitting on the dresser.

Telly jumped and then quickly covered Gretchen, who sleepily murmured it was cold.

“One more day and we call it quits.” Telly rose to go to the bathroom. “Twenty-four hours, and if I never hear the name Clutch Henderson again—”

Clutch moved his fingers and thumb as though it were a mouth talking. “Blah, blah, blah, you know you are having the time of your life.” The door slammed in his face.

* * *

A hand came down hard on his shoulder. “Hi, Telly. Kevin Franklyn.” He held out a hand to shake warmly. “This won’t take long.”

Telly was holding Gretchen’s elbow. She was pulled aside; a mike was attached to his shirt; and he was led to a raised dais.

“We are here with Telly Martin, now being called Telly ‘No Tells.’ Telly is the chip leader at this year’s main event. Telly…”—he leaned forward as if they were sharing a confidence—“What’s your strategy?”

Telly looked up thoughtfully. “Well, Kevin, thank you for the insightful question. I ha…really have a good read on all my opponents.”

“Yes.” Clearly, Kevin was expecting more.

“I um…well, I am very good at reading…um, tics from the other players. You know, at the table.”

“You OK there, Telly? You look a little pale,” Kevin asked.

“Didn’t sleep much.” They shared a chuckle. Telly winked at Gretchen, who blushed prettily off camera.

“We’ve never really seen you before. How long have you been playing?”

“Roughly…”—Telly paused as if to count—“…three months.”

“Three months? Really.” Kevin was shocked. “Sounds like you are a prodigy. Do you have anything you want to say to anyone out there?”

“My fiancée, Gretchen.” Telly looked directly into the camera, his face earnest. “I have only one thing to say…through thick and thin.” He pointed to the region over his heart.

“Well, there you have it, folks. The brightest star on the poker horizon is landing right here and lighting up the Sixty-sixth Annual International Series of Poker.”

* * *

“Two kings! Raise with your aces!” Clutch screamed, his voice rusty from yesterday’s marathon. Methodically, players left the table as Telly amassed a huge pile of chips.

“If there is one word that dominated this year’s tournament, Kev, that word would be
Telly.”

“He’s like the Rain Man of poker—just look at him. He’s a genius. I wonder if the Ant is feeling the strain.” The announcers continued their commentary.

They were down to the final two tables, but already, half the players were eliminated. Telly looked up to find the Ant watching him with a hard stare.

“We’re coming to the end here, and I can’t wait to see if those two pups, No Tells and the Ant, end up going head to head,” Kevin said.

“Sounds like a Disney movie!” They both laughed.

In the gallery Stan sat, his arm around Ginny and Ruby on his other side. They had spent the night in the hotel as well, staying to watch the end of the tournament. Ruby had no one to go home to. Jenny was still in jail, with no chance of bail. She had bitten a policewoman and was now on psychiatric watch.

Harriet and Frank had spent the night at home and returned, though they were still on the outside. They had made friends with a host who had not only allowed them to sit in the high-roller lounge to watch but also comped them lunch at the buffet.

Gretchen sat front and center, her eyes never leaving Telly.

“Fold!” Clutch shouted.

Telly folded without any emotion, looking at his pile of thirty million in chips.
Won’t be much longer now; this charade should end soon,
he thought eagerly.

“Bet a million,” Clutch ordered. Robotically, he bet a boatload of chips. “Reraise.” The orders came in rapid fire. Telly was stunned that he had gotten this far. Half the time, he didn’t even know what he was doing. “Check!”

“I’m gonna bet.” The guy with the baseball cap and comb-over was still here. He was known as Fat Bastard East, as opposed to Fat Bastard West, who had been knocked out of the game hours before.

“Raise ’em, raise ’em now,” Clutch whispered.

“I fold,” Telly laid his cards down. He had a shit hand. It was stupid to waste chips. For the first time, something clicked. He trusted his own judgment rather than Clutch’s. “You don’t know what you’re doing,” Telly said out loud.

“Like hell you’re going to fold—who do you think you are?” Clutch whispered fiercely.

“Watch me,” Telly stated with finality.

“Are you talking to me?” Fat Bastard East asked. “Because I don’t know what in the hell you are talking about.”

“Your card then,” the dealer said to Telly. “Are you in or out?”

“Nooooo!” Clutch jumped on the table.

“Yes!” Telly said.

Clutch gripped Telly’s hand, wrestling with the cards. Telly tried to force a fold, but Clutch bent the cards backward over his hand. Telly’s lips turned white with the effort of fighting Clutch’s death grip on his wrist. The cards flew across the table, hitting Fat Bastard East in the eye.

Telly jumped up and apologized. The room erupted into clapping, whistling, and cheers. Clearly, Fat Bastard East was not a popular player.

Pandemonium broke out. Fat Bastard East rose, taking a swing at Telly. Immediately they were separated, and peace was restored. Once it was determined that there was no damage to Fat Bastard East’s eye, the next game began.

“Did Telly just muck the card into Fat Bastard East’s face?” Stu roared.

Kevin was doubled over, wheezing from laughing so hard. “The balls on this guy!”

The next hand was another win for Telly. An official came over to shake his hand and said, “Follow me.”

“Am I getting kicked out?” he asked hopefully. Clutch couldn’t blame him if he was expelled for hitting Fat Bastard East in the face with a card. After all, it was Clutch’s fault anyway. Telly turned toward the exit, but the man in the suit grabbed his arm.

“The exit is that way,” Telly told him.

“So?” the attendant asked.

“Shouldn’t we be heading that way?”

“Please follow me, Mr. Martin.” Telly was led into a room with a single table with blazing lights overhead. He heard Clutch sing like an angel. He couldn’t see the audience; the uplight blocked it. It was as if the table were on a stage. There was a player sitting with a mountain of chips before him, his eyes watching Telly like a predator.

“Is this…?” Telly asked, his voice barely a whisper.

“Nirvana, heaven, the main table.” Clutch was skipping around the table. “I didn’t think it could get any better, but it did! Look who made it here too!” He stood behind Adam “the Ant” Antonowski, pointing with both hands at the younger man’s head.

“This is our live streaming table, broadcast around the world as the action is happening,” said the official. Telly watched as his chips were laid reverently in piles on his corner of the felt.

“You want me to play in front of…”

“Millions and millions of people. Now, gentlemen, if you could please stand behind me, I will lead you in.” Seven people stood behind him, cracking knuckles and fussing with hair. There were two women, and the rest were men.

Clutch was dancing around. “This is it, kid. You’ve arrived.”

“I injured another player. What kind of people are you?” Telly asked.
How could this be happening?

The executive laughed. “Everybody hates Fat Bastard East. You unnerved him, and he lost his next hand. Brilliant strategy.” He turned to Telly. “It’s like you do what we all want to do but don’t have the guts to do. You’ve become something of a hero.”

Telly stepped onto the big stage, Clutch right behind him. He rubbed Telly’s shoulders like a prize fighter. Telly shrugged him away. “Ow.” Clutch’s cold hands hurt.

“Lotta chips, Telly,” Oscar, a grizzled meat packer from Chicago, observed.

“Evening, everyone,” Telly said. “How did you know my name?” He took a seat and smiled at the rest of the players. Everyone but Ant smiled back.

“Everybody in the poker world knows Telly ‘No Tells’ Martin. You are supposedly real good at reading everyone.” This from Honey Potts, an actress who was chewing on the end of an unlit cigar.

“I don’t think so…I have a confession to make,” Telly said, his face serious.

The room froze. It was so quiet, you could hear Telly breathing.

“I am not playing alone. I am listening to someone tell me what to do. I have been listening to Clutch Henderson. It’s true. Clutch is channeling his energy through me. That’s the only reason I’m winning. He’s with me right now.” Telly felt like a load had been lifted from his shoulders.

There was stunned silence. Oscar rose to his feet as slowly as his big, ponderous body would allow. He raised his thick hands and began clapping, his head bowed toward Telly. “You’re a class act, No Tells. That’s about the nicest thing I ever heard.”

One by one, each player rose, until the room was filled with thunderous and appreciative applause.

From the gallery, a cheer started and soon took over the whole room. “Clutch, Clutch, Clutch!”

Ruby stood, taking Ginny’s hand to stand beside her. “Clutch, Clutch, Clutch!” Even Stan joined the crowd.

“No, no, you don’t understand.” Telly stood, waving his hands for them to stop. The shouting got louder, like a marching army. Clutch beamed.

“Clutch, Clutch, Clutch!”

“I’m listening to him tell me what to do,” Telly pleaded to the chanting crowd.

The chant changed, becoming louder. People were clapping their hands in time to the words. “Listen to Clutch! Listen to Clutch!”

In the casino, people stopped playing to join the chant. On the couch, Harriet and Frank raised their arms, shrimp wrapped in bacon in each hand, and yelled, “Listen to Clutch! Listen to Clutch!”

At the Tango Motel, Quick Daddy and Cheryl sat in their living room, holding their hands together and aloft, shouting, “Listen to Clutch! Listen to Clutch! Listen to Clutch!”

At the county jail, the prisoners sat clustered around the TV, their hands chained together, their voices singing, “Clutch, Clutch, Clutch!”

Jenny Henderson covered her ears with both hands to drown out the cries.

Victor Mazzone, who had made bail for Jenny after she signed away most of the inheritance, smiled as he sang, “Clutch, Clutch, Clutch!”

“I could have told you that would happen.” Clutch was next to him, smirking. “They love me.” He walked out to center stage, his chest pushed out, his arms opened wide, enjoying every second. “They love me. It’s Clutchtime!” he shouted. Then he turned to Telly. “Now sit your dumb ass down and let’s win this thing. You ain’t gettin’ rid of me until the fat lady sings, and I don’t hear no voices. You’re in too deep, and for some stupid reason, they love you too. Go ahead and channel the shit out of me, baby. I’m yours. Oscar has pocket deuces. If you get your head out of your ass, you’ll see there’s a two on the turn, so…reraise.”

Telly reraised.

It was the Ant’s turn. Clutch shouted in the younger man’s ear. “You suck, bro. The Ant is marching one by one! Knock this twerp out already, Telly.”

“I’m all in,” Telly said woodenly.

The Ant folded, safe for another game.

“Call,” Oscar said. He lost all his chips and was done. He rose, and Telly got up to shake his hand. The Ant stuck his tongue out. Oscar turned around, gave the hooded man the finger, and said, “Clutch, Clutch, Clutch.” His fist was raised in the air as he bounced off the stage.

Telly couldn’t hear Clutch over the insults hurled by the Ant. Hunched, his hoodie covering his greasy hair, he sneered, his nasty teeth feral in his snarl. “You call me with a five–six offsuit, you twit? Now look at the mess you’ve gotten into.” The Ant was speaking to Honey Potts.

Honey Potts mucked her cards, knowing the game was all over for her. She bluffed and lost. She slapped Telly on the back and said, “Go get him, No Tells. Do it for Clutch.” She blew him a kiss as she left the room. “Clutch, Clutch, Clutch” became her swan song too.

Both Telly and the Ant were apparently unstoppable. Just a few more plays, and it was just the two of them.

“It went quickly, Kev,” Stu said into the mick. “But not as quickly as me in the bedroom.”

“I’ll say. Two more to go, and we are in the homestretch.”

The cards were revealed. “Jack high flush.” The retired postman smiled. “You’ve come a long way from the Mirage poker room, Telly. It was a pleasure playing with you. I can now say I played with the greatest player in the game.”

“One more, the final roundup. Let’s squash this ant,” Clutch whispered into Telly’s ear.

“Historic, absolutely historic. This is it, folks. The reigning champion versus No Tells. Adam ‘the Ant’ Antonowski has done it again. He beat nearly twelve thousand players to get here…again.” Kevin approached the table to squat down beside the Ant.

“If you bring up the name Clutch or Telly, I walk.”

“Let me ask you a question before we go to commercial break, Ant. If you were stranded on a desert island and had a choice between In-N-Out or Jack in the Box, which would you pick?”

“Is this a trick question?” Ant spat.

“You told me not to bring up Clutch or Telly.” Kevin smiled, all his teeth showing.

Somewhat mollified, the Ant thought and then answered, “Two double doubles with onions. One animal-style French fries, and a vanilla shake.”

“That’s what I thought…right, Stu?” He winked at the other announcer.

“I love a good double shake.” They were sharing a joke at his expense, but he be damned if he couldn’t figure it out.