installed in all of the projects put out a lot of heat when the boiler was on.
Jenny had set up two card tables and borrowed folding chairs from various neighbors to accommodate her guests. Five players sat at each table, and the game was poker. Numbers was surprisedto see Crispy Carl among them, dressed in a red suit with black pinstripes, a matching red hat and shoes, looking like the old pimp he was.
“Come on and deal,” Crispy Carl taunted Mr. Mac, taking a swig from his personal bottle of Jack Daniels.
“Numbers, my little man, come over here,” Crispy Carl requested after catching sight of Numbers. Numbers slid his way toward the living room behind the seat of Mr. Simon, who was sitting closest to the kitchen.
“Where you think you’re going?” Jenny inquired matter-of-factly, looking up from her plate. She was standing near the kitchen counter.
“Mr. Carl called me,” Numbers answered.
Mac dealt the cards.
“Jenny, let Numbers come over here and talk to his daddy,” Crispy Carl said, looking at the queen of clubs he had been dealt for his faceup card and shielding the facedown card with his hand. He lifted it just enough to take a peek. Those who weren’t enthralled by the hand they were playing, like nosy Ms. Lindsay at the other table, laughed lightly.
“You wish, you old fart,” Jenny countered. More chuckles followed.
Mr. Mac dealt each player two cards; one facedown and the other faceup.
“I’ll bet three dollars,” Crispy Carl said, leading off the bet with the high card.
“What you got down there, another queen?” Wayne asked. He folded and tossed his hand away. Carl took a swig of his Jack and smiled at Numbers.
“I’ma fold, too. Yeah, he probably do got a pair of queens.” Pearl was the oldest player at the table. She tossed her hand as well.
There were two players left in the hand other than CrispyCarl—the dealer, Mac, who was studying his hand, and Sybil. Sybil was a very attractive brown-skinned lady, thirty-something, with streaks of gray hair on the front of her head. “Yeah, I’ll call that three dollars, he ain’t got nothing,” Sybil taunted, looking at Carl through her Yves Saint Laurent prescription eyewear.
“I’ll call, too.” Mac tossed his three dollars to the middle of the table.
Numbers stood over Crispy Carl’s shoulder watching the game, not quite understanding what was going on, but Crispy Carl was always willing to school him.
“The name of the game is five-card stud,” he began to teach Numbers. “You can win the hand with the best cards or, like Sybil always likes to try and do, bluff your way through.” He saw the confused look on Numbers’s face. “That means to try to scare the rest of the table into folding their hands by betting big.”
“Whatever,” Sybil scoffed.
Mac dealt the third card to Crispy Carl faceup. It was a 10 of clubs. Now Crispy Carl had a queen and a 10 showing. Sybil’s next card was a queen of spades.
“I could use that queen,” Crispy Carl joked, even though he was serious as high blood pressure.
“I bet you could, Mr. Pimp No More.” Sybil laughed, and the rest of the table laughed right along with her. She now had a queen and an 8 showing.
Mac turned up his second card: an ace of diamonds, to go with his jack of diamonds. The bet was now on Mac with the ace high.
“Okay, that’s what I’m talking ’bout,” Mac gushed with confidence. “The bet is six dollars.”
Crispy Carl slowly tossed a five-dollar bill and a single into the pot, seeming unsure of his bet.
“I’m not bluffing now.” Sybil quickly counted off six singles and another six dollars from her pile of money and threw the whole twelve dollars into the pot. Crispy Carl explained thatthe pot is what they called the money in the middle of the table. The bet was now an additional six dollars to Mac and Crispy Carl to stay in the hand. “Let’s see who’s bluffing now,” Sybil said, taunting the two men with a stoic
Jenny had set up two card tables and borrowed folding chairs from various neighbors to accommodate her guests. Five players sat at each table, and the game was poker. Numbers was surprisedto see Crispy Carl among them, dressed in a red suit with black pinstripes, a matching red hat and shoes, looking like the old pimp he was.
“Come on and deal,” Crispy Carl taunted Mr. Mac, taking a swig from his personal bottle of Jack Daniels.
“Numbers, my little man, come over here,” Crispy Carl requested after catching sight of Numbers. Numbers slid his way toward the living room behind the seat of Mr. Simon, who was sitting closest to the kitchen.
“Where you think you’re going?” Jenny inquired matter-of-factly, looking up from her plate. She was standing near the kitchen counter.
“Mr. Carl called me,” Numbers answered.
Mac dealt the cards.
“Jenny, let Numbers come over here and talk to his daddy,” Crispy Carl said, looking at the queen of clubs he had been dealt for his faceup card and shielding the facedown card with his hand. He lifted it just enough to take a peek. Those who weren’t enthralled by the hand they were playing, like nosy Ms. Lindsay at the other table, laughed lightly.
“You wish, you old fart,” Jenny countered. More chuckles followed.
Mr. Mac dealt each player two cards; one facedown and the other faceup.
“I’ll bet three dollars,” Crispy Carl said, leading off the bet with the high card.
“What you got down there, another queen?” Wayne asked. He folded and tossed his hand away. Carl took a swig of his Jack and smiled at Numbers.
“I’ma fold, too. Yeah, he probably do got a pair of queens.” Pearl was the oldest player at the table. She tossed her hand as well.
There were two players left in the hand other than CrispyCarl—the dealer, Mac, who was studying his hand, and Sybil. Sybil was a very attractive brown-skinned lady, thirty-something, with streaks of gray hair on the front of her head. “Yeah, I’ll call that three dollars, he ain’t got nothing,” Sybil taunted, looking at Carl through her Yves Saint Laurent prescription eyewear.
“I’ll call, too.” Mac tossed his three dollars to the middle of the table.
Numbers stood over Crispy Carl’s shoulder watching the game, not quite understanding what was going on, but Crispy Carl was always willing to school him.
“The name of the game is five-card stud,” he began to teach Numbers. “You can win the hand with the best cards or, like Sybil always likes to try and do, bluff your way through.” He saw the confused look on Numbers’s face. “That means to try to scare the rest of the table into folding their hands by betting big.”
“Whatever,” Sybil scoffed.
Mac dealt the third card to Crispy Carl faceup. It was a 10 of clubs. Now Crispy Carl had a queen and a 10 showing. Sybil’s next card was a queen of spades.
“I could use that queen,” Crispy Carl joked, even though he was serious as high blood pressure.
“I bet you could, Mr. Pimp No More.” Sybil laughed, and the rest of the table laughed right along with her. She now had a queen and an 8 showing.
Mac turned up his second card: an ace of diamonds, to go with his jack of diamonds. The bet was now on Mac with the ace high.
“Okay, that’s what I’m talking ’bout,” Mac gushed with confidence. “The bet is six dollars.”
Crispy Carl slowly tossed a five-dollar bill and a single into the pot, seeming unsure of his bet.
“I’m not bluffing now.” Sybil quickly counted off six singles and another six dollars from her pile of money and threw the whole twelve dollars into the pot. Crispy Carl explained thatthe pot is what they called the money in the middle of the table. The bet was now an additional six dollars to Mac and Crispy Carl to stay in the hand. “Let’s see who’s bluffing now,” Sybil said, taunting the two men with a stoic
Similar Books
