As the play went on, Victor Korontzis kept losing. He was not concerned. In a few minutes, when they had—what was the word?—chummed the others, he and Rizzoli and Dalton would move in for the kill.
Sal Prizzi was gloating. “Well,” he said, “it looks like you fellows have cooled off.”
Tony Rizzoli shook his head ruefully. “Yes, it sure does, doesn’t it?” He gave Korontzis a knowing look.
“Your luck couldn’t go on forever,” Marvin Seymour said.
Perry Breslauer spoke up. “What do you say we increase the stakes again, and give us a real crack at you?”
Tony Rizzoli pretended to consider it. “I don’t know,” he said thoughtfully. He turned to Victor Korontzis. “What do you think, Victor?”
How would you like to leave here tonight with fifty thousand dollars in your pocket? I’ll be able to buy a house, and a new car. I can take the family on vacations…Korontzis was almost trembling with excitement. He smiled. “Why not?”
“All right,” Sal Prizzi said. “We’ll play table stakes. The sky’s the limit.”
They were playing five-card draw. The cards were dealt.
“It’s my ante,” Breslauer said. “Let’s open for five thousand dollars.”
Each player put in his ante.
Victor Korontzis was dealt two queens. He drew three cards, and one of them was another queen.
Rizzoli looked at his hand and said, “Up a thousand.”
Marvin Seymour studied his hand. “I’ll call, and raise you two thousand.”
Otto Dalton threw in his cards. “Too rich for my blood.”
Sal Prizzi said, “I’ll call.”
The pot went to Marvin Seymour’s straight.
In the next hand, Victor Korontzis was dealt an eight, nine, ten, and jack of hearts. One card away from a straight flush!
“I’ll call for a thousand dollars,” Dalton said.
“I’ll call, and raise you a thousand.”
Sal Prizzi said, “Let’s bump it another thousand.”
It was Korontzis’s turn. He was sure that a straight flush would beat whatever the others were holding. He was only one card away.
“I call.” He drew a card, and put it facedown, not daring to look at it.
Breslauer laid his hand down. “A pair of fours and a pair of tens.”
Prizzi put his hand down. “Three sevens.”
They turned to look at Victor Korontzis. He took a deep breath, and picked up his hole card. It was black. “Busted,” he said. He threw his hand in.
The pots kept growing larger.
Victor Korontzis’s pile of chips had shrunk to almost nothing. He looked over at Tony Rizzoli, concerned.
Rizzoli smiled reassuringly, a smile that said, There’s nothing to worry about.
Rizzoli opened the next pot.
The cards were dealt.
“We’ll ante a thousand dollars.”
Perry Breslauer: “I’ll raise you a thousand.”
Marvin Seymour: “And I’ll bump you two.”
Sal Prizzi: “You know something? I think you fellows are bluffing. Let’s raise it five more.”
Victor Korontzis had not looked at his hand yet. When is the damn chumming going to stop?
“Victor?”
Korontzis picked up his hand slowly and fanned out the cards one by one. An ace, another ace, and a third ace, plus a king and a ten. His blood began to race.
“Are you in?”
He smiled to himself. The chumming had stopped. He knew that he was going to be dealt another king for a full house. He threw the ten away and tried to keep his voice casual. “I’ll call. One card, please.”
Otto Dalton said, “I’ll take two.” He looked at his cards. “I raise a thousand.”
Tony Rizzoli shook his head. “Too rich for me.” He threw his hand in.
“I’m in,” Prizzi said, “and I’ll raise five thousand.”
Marvin Seymour threw in his hand. “I’m out.”
It was between Victor Korontzis and Sal Prizzi.
“Are you calling?” Prizzi asked. “It’ll cost you five thousand more.”
Victor Korontzis looked at his pile of chips. Five thousand was all he had left. But when I win this pot…he thought. He looked at his hand again. It was unbeatable. He put the pile of chips in the center of the table and drew a card. It was a five. But he still had three aces. He laid down his hand. “Three aces.”