A Sinking Ship
The first Thursday of 2015 started out with the normal drive to German's. I had a friend from up north come into town, and he was excited about playing in the game - he was 3 hours from the nearest casino, and his home games were 25/50 cents. My job was to restock the beer, and I drove to the usual discount liquor store where they kept all the loose bottles for me, and I got them for $8 a case. This is one of the reasons how I got the name The Jew from the game. I took it as a compliment - compared to almost every poker player I knew, I was very frugal and efficient with my costs. I was known to spend money where it mattered, but if you drink Coors Light, let's face it, you're just looking to get wasted.
I get to German's and Mike instantly drives up in his Catera. I usually back in the driveway - I like to make sure that I can get out of there ASAP if I need to. Mike has me blocked in and the stench of the unburnt gas made me gag. The car was literally packed to the windows with garbage, toys, empty packs of cigarettes, pots, you name it, it had its place in that car. I help him bring the trays of food, which Mike was now having to bring as part of the cost because he owed German back rent. He starts to brag about how his wife went coupon crazy, and that the food was basically free because everything was off their foodstamp card.
"Nothing in life is free, someday you will understand that." I said with a sigh. Mike and his wife had an arrangement that allowed them to abuse the system, because it showed her living at a different address than him. They got over 1000 a month in cash, food assistance and other stuff. Although I understood him needing help now that he was unemployed, he had been doing this for years. I had never gotten help from the government except for student loans when I didn't go to the school my dad wanted me to. The way I saw it, the government was feeding his gambling debt, not his family.
We walk in and German asks, "What's for dinner tonight?"
"Obama Lasagna!" I exclaimed.
German immediately discusses how much Mike owed to him, and that he was having to take from the Superbowl pool to cover his living expenses. This was not a good conversation, and I had to apologize to my friend and just shrug my shoulders, but guaranteed the game would be good.
Sure enough, the table filled quickly with the help of a few new players I had gotten from the southside of town where I lived plus my friend, Bookie, Nazi John, and a Nice Shoes Ryan. About an hour into the game, Rockstar showed up to the game. Rockstar was someone I had seen a lot of at the cardroom, and he played exclusively tournaments. Seeing him play cash was sort of like seeing icing on a cake. He was a music purist, which I respected, but he brought a snarky attitude and would tank for minutes on fairly trivial decisions. I could tell he couldn't manage tilt well and would be an asset to other players.
As the game starts, everyone is buying in cash, and I am collecting to hand to Big Mike. This was a deal we had - I had my cut, he handled the money, and he kept the debts paid. Well he hadn't been doing that as of late. German was coming to me to talk about Mike, and I told him that was not my corner of the business. My job was to keep the game solvent, run as long as possible, and recruit players and deal. The last person to buy in was Rockstar, and he said "Gimme 500."
"The buyin is 100-300 until 10pm, then you can buy in for whatever you want."
"Mike said I could buy in for 500, what's the big deal?"
"We have rules - these are the rules to the game."
"Fine then, give me 300."
There was this awkward moment where I was waiting for the money to be handed over, and he looks at Mike for some sort of resolution.
"Rockstar's on me tonight."
This guy wanted to buy in above our early cap in credit, and is giving me a ****ty attitude about it. My friend Zac is looking at me like WTF is going on, and I assure him I will guarantee any payout tonight for him. Mike was compromising my friend being there with cash so he could be buddy buddy with Rockstar who thought his credit was good here. He had never played, showed any cash at this game, and he's asking me for 500 bucks in a 1/2. Mike is already in on credit, and I might as well divide that up amongst the table equally and save him the anguish of his own bad play. We are starting off too much in the negative, especially with German owed.
About 90 minutes later, I get out of the box and Mike comes to me in the kitchen and asks me to get a bottle of Jameson. I asked him who it was for and he said Rockstar. I didn't know if Mike knew how much this guy was playing him like a fiddle, or if he really was that stupid.
"Your buddy Zac is drinking our Hennessy VSOP, what's a $30 bottle?"
"The difference is Zac bought in with cash, and that bottle was mine personally, the game didn't buy it. Stop giving people free ****ing rides on your ass, or at least ask for some lube if you're going to go out this way."
I made him pay me out a flat $500 plus the bottle cost so I knew he wasn't going to try and weasel money off me at the end of the night. I took his car and I'm surprised the thing even made it 2 miles there and back. Just as I hope this is just a hump in the night, I get out of the car and can here about 6 people screaming. With the safety off my 5-7 I open the door and there's two huge guys who had put $400 each into German's Superbowl pool. They turn around immediately at stare at me and I have to make a quick decision.
"Who the **** are you?" They both ask.
"I'm the guy that's going to figure out what the **** is going on. You're disrupting our game. Let's step outside."
They immediately come outside and air their problems - they wanted their money back from German because they felt it was a scam. I assured them that this game and this night was the worst night to approach him about it, and that they should get him on Tuesday nights at the cardroom if he is up money. I'll even give them the jump if I am up there and see him with a stack of money. I even told them that we were upset with German for making this a problem at our game.
"Be careful walking into people houses like that, you're liable to get shot."
I never saw them again. I even looked took the time out to see what they were driving and look for that car at the cardroom and on the street before the next game.
The game ended with Mike down about 500, Rockstar down 300, and the rake at 1400. Mike basically made no money that night, and considering the heat that German was bringing into the house, he should have paid me. Because it started early, we decided to end it around 130. I let Mike float a few hundred with me that he said he would pay back once he got Rockstar's money, and walk out the winner of the night. He gave another IOU to German, but German didn't seem to put up a fight, which I thought odd. I got out of there with Zac, and we hightailed south. I went to a bar in town that didn't seem to care about the 230am closing laws, and sat down and got us a drink at the bar.
"One Godfather and one Heineken please, madam."
"Sure thing monsieur," the cute bar manager replied with a smile.
It was more than a smile though. When you play live poker enough, you get that feel for when someone is saying something they mean or they are just playing along in this fake game of interaction we call manners. I felt like I was being genuinely flirted with, and I was going to go for this one.
A mistake would be to sit at the bar and stare and talk to her all night until close - this would make her feel uncomfortable and she is probably used to guys getting up in her face. Instead we sat and talked about the game, Mike, the whole situation. As time passed by we had one more drink, and I wasn't even paying attention to the fact that we were suddenly alone in the bar.
Kendra, the bartender, came over and sat with us. She was 5'1, 105, around 25 and had that cute curviness about her that was very appealing to the eye. She asked us what we were up to the past night.
"Just playing poker, I run a game up north of here."
"Is it like Rounders, that movie with Matt Damon?"
"Sort of, but you won't catch a hanger at our game."
"I don't understand, what's a hanger?"
"Instead of me explaining to you, why don't you watch the movie again, and are you working Saturday night?"
"Nope," she said with a smile, the kind that was eager to know more.
"Come with me to the game, you can see it for yourself."
That to me was the biggest confidence booster for the night. A few hours before, I had gotten a text from Big John that a game was going down in Boca on Saturday night - the big game. I figured this would be a great opportunity not only to impress her, but to possibly buy out the game from Mike and send him on his way.
