From Here to Eternity_ The Restored Edit - Jones, James [170]
On the last card O’Hayer missed his ace and dropped out, indifferently. O’Hayer could always afford to drop out indifferently. Warden with his kings still high checked it to Prew, and Prew felt a salve of relief grease over him for sure now Warden had no trips. Warden had two pair and hoped the kings would nose him out since O’Hayer had two bullets. Well, if he wanted to see them he could by god pay for seeing them, like everybody else, and Prew bet twenty-five, figuring to milk the last drop out of him, figuring he had this one cinched, figuring The Warden for his lousy pair to brace his kings. It was a legitimate bet; Warden had checked his kings twice when they were high. Warden raised him sixty dollars.
Looking at Warden’s malignant grin he knew then he was caught, really hooked, right through the bag. By three big kings. Outsmarted. Sucked in like a green kid. The first time somebody checked a cinch into him. His belly flopped over sickeningly with disbelief and he made as if to drop out, but he knew he had to call. There was too much of his money in this pot, which was a big one, to chance a bluff. And The Warden knew just how high to raise without raising too high to get a call.
The hand cost him two hundred even, he had about forty dollars left. He pushed the stool back, and got up then.
“Seat open.”
Warden’s eyebrows quivered, then hooked up pixishly.
“I hated to do that to you, kid. I really did. If I dint need the money so goddam bad I’d by god give it back.”
The table laughed all around.
“Ah, you keep it,” Prew said. “You won it, Top, its yours. Check me out,” he said to the dealer, thinking why dint you drop out you son of a bitch after that second win like you promised, thinking this is not an original lament.
“Whats wrong, kid?” Warden said. “You look positively unwell.”
“Just hungry. Missed noon chow.”
Warden winked at Stark who had only just come back. “Too late to catch chow now. You better stick around? Win some of this back? Forty, fifty bucks aint much take home pay.”
“Enough,” Prew said. “For what I need.” Why didnt he let it go? why did he have to rub it in? The son of a bitching bastard whoring bastard.
“Yeah, but you want a bottle too, dont you? Hell, we all friends here, just a friendly game for pastime. Aint that right, Jim?”
Prew could see his eyes clenching into rays of wrinkles as he looked at the gambler.
“Sure,” O’Hayer said indifferently. “Long as you got the money to be friendly. Deal the cards.”
Warden laughed softly, as if to himself. “You see?” he said to Prew. “No cutthroat. No hardtack. The take out’s only twenty.”
“Beats me,” Prew said. He started to add, “I’ve got a widowed mother,” but nobody would have heard it. The cards were already riffling off the deck.
As he moved back Stark goosed him warmly in the ribs and winked, and slipped into the seat.
“Heres fifty,” Stark said to the dealer.
Outside the air free of smoke and the moisture of exhaled breath smote Prew like cold water and he inhaled deeply, suddenly awake again, then let it out, trying to let out with it the weary tired unrest that was urging him to go back. He could not escape the belief that he had just lost $200 of his own hard-earned money to that bastard Warden. Come on, cut it out, he told himself, you didnt lose a cent, you’re twenty to the good, you got enough for tonight, lets me and you walk from this place.
The air had wakened him and he saw clearly that this was no personal feud, this was a poker game, and you cant break them all, eventually they’ll break you. He walked around the sheds and down to the sidewalk. Then he walked across the street. He even got so far his hand was on the doorknob of the dayroom door and the door half open. Before he finally decided to quit kidding himself and slammed the door angrily and turned around and went irritably back to O’Hayer’s.
“Well look who’s here,” Warden grinned. “I thought we’d be seeing you. Is the