My opponent digested this for a few moments, then threw back his head and gave a bark of laughter.
“I love it!” he crowed. “A half million pot riding on one hand. Skeeve, I like your style. Win or lose, it’s been a pleasure matching wits with you.”
“Thank you. Kid. I feel the same way.”
“In the meantime, there’s this hand to play. I hate to keep all these people hanging in suspense when we already know how the betting’s going to go.”
He swept the rest of his chips into the pot. “I’ll call your raise and raise you back . . . thirty-five. That’s the whole stake,”
“Agreed,” I said, pushing my chips out.
“Now let’s see what we got,” he winked, reaching for the deck.
The two of diamonds to me … the eight of clubs to the Kid … then one more card each face down.
The crowd pressed forward as my opponent peered at his last card.
“Skeeve,” he said almost regretfully. “You had an interesting strategy there, but my hand’s good . . . real good.”
He flipped two of his down cards over.
“Full Dragon … four Ogres and a pair of tens.”
“Nice hand,” I acknowledged.
“Yeah. Right. Now let’s see what you’ve got.”
With as much poise as I could muster, I turned over my hole cards.
Chapter Nineteen:
“Can’t you take a joke?”
-T. EULENSPIEGEL
MASSHA looked up from her book and bon-bons as we trooped through the door.
“That was quick,” she said. “How did it go?”
“Hi, Massha. Where’s Markie?”
“Upstairs in her room. After the second time she tried to sneak out, I sent her to bed and took up sentry duty here by the door. What happened at the game?”