Schoolboy

31

Chapter 1

The rent was due and Joey Mackey's mom didn't have it. Their small apartment cost them $150 a month and they had just $112. Money had been a problem since Joey's father died. As far as Joey know, his mother, Ellen, had no job skills. In fact, he had no idea of what his mother had done for a living before she met his father. When she did manage to find work, it was usually menial and temporary.

Joey sat at the kitchen table with the $112 dollars in front of him. It was a small pile of wrinkled tens, fives and singles and no matter how often he counted it, the stack never amounted to more than $112.

Joey had been considering his options all morning and decided there were only three. He could go to work, but at 17 he was a year too young to work in the steel mills. He could find work as a bag boy at the A&P but it would take at least two weeks to get a paycheck. His second option was to give the landlord the $112 and ask for another week to come up with the rest. He was sure the landlord would agree, but Joey realized they would be in no better situation in a week's time. They might be in even worse shape.

The third option, Joey knew, was the desperate one, but it was the option that he felt most comfortable with. So, he put the $112 in his pocket, told his mother, who had already started drinking, that he was leaving and would be gone for a while.

Joey, baby, his mother said, a slur creeping into her voice, are you taking all the money with you? Can you leave me some?

Joey thought about giving her $10, but decided against it. There was enough vodka in the house to keep her occupied and there were cold cuts and bread in the fridge, in case she felt the urge to eat. Besides, if she had money in her pocket she might leave the apartment -- and in her condition that could only lead to problems.

No, mom, I need it all.

OK, honey, whatever you say. Love you.

Love you, too, mom.

Cassidy’s Pool Room was on the ground floor of the five-story Cassidy Hotel, next to the National Bank building at the intersection of Congress and Inland Avenues. It was an old fashioned pool parlor with a barber shop fronting the space and a long lunch counter running along one side of the interior. Beyond the lunch counter was the pool room, with its well-maintained tables -- 12 pocket tables and 5 snooker tables. At the entrance to the pool room proper, above the cash register, was a chalk board that tracked and updated major league baseball scores, inning by inning, and, in the fall, followed the football games, both college and pro. The old man who worked the register, kept time and handed out the ball racks, was called Lombardo, although that was not his name. He was called Lombardo because he called everyone else Lombardo. Apparently it saved him the trouble of remembering names.

Joey had been coming to Cassidy's since he was 16. The legal age to enter a pool room in Carnegie, Indiana, was 18, but most blue laws in that blue collar town, like the one banning liquor sales on Sunday, were generally ignored.

Although he was a decent pool player, Joey knew he wasn't good enough to risk the rent money on his abilities. What he had in mind was gaining entrance to the back room, where high stakes poker was played, 24 hours a day.

Regular card players had a key to the back room, so Joey had to knock on the door. After a moment the door opened and the hulking, menacing figure of Ronnie Pardo, wearing his regular outfit of a black leather car coat and stingy brim hat, stood in the doorway. Ronnie looked puzzled when he saw Joey standing there.

What do you want? he asked, not in an unfriendly way. Joey and Ronnie knew each other well enough to nod when they met in the poolroom, but Joey had never set foot inside the card room before.

I want to play, Joey said.

You're too young, Ronnie replied, although he was just a few years older than Joey. Come back in a couple of years.

Please, Ronnie, I need to play. It's real important to me.

Ronnie Pardo was the youngest of the five Pardo brothers. The brothers had reputations as tough and dangerous men and it was understood that the poolroom was under their protection. One of the brothers came by the poolroom every day and spent a few hours, having lunch at the counter, chatting with some of the regulars, just making his presence known. Since he was the youngest, it was usually Ronnie who spent the most time there, but sometimes one of the older brothers, Dale or Petey, showed up.

Your name's Joey, right?

Yeah.

You know it's a real tough game in there?

That's what I heard.

They got some real sharks swimming around.

Do me this favor, Ronnie. Swear to god, I won't forget it.

Ronnie took his time considering Joey's request. Finally he said, Wait here a minute, and closed the door. When he returned he said, They play no limit and it's a $100 buy-in. You got that much?

Joey nodded.

OK, you can come in. I vouched for you, so don't fuck up and make me look bad.

The moment Joey walked into the poker room he felt at ease. It was difficult to explain the feeling that came over him. It was as if he had returned home after a long trip. Although he had never been inside the room before, everything seemed familiar -- the old fight posters on the walls, photos of famous local athletes, like Tony Zale and Tommy Harmon, the faded wood paneling, the side bar with its rack of whiskey bottles, the dealers with their eye shades, the whisper of cards being shuffled, the ritual murmur of gamblers saying, Call, raise, check, fold. Even the pall of cigarette and cigar smoke, so heavy and acrid that it stung his eyes, seemed right.

Then he realized that his father, who had been a gambler, had spent a lot of his time and money in that room, and had talked about the place to Joey. It was his father who had taught Joey to play poker. Like many gamblers, Ray Mackey knew the right things to do at a poker table. He knew the odds, the probabilities and the strategies. But, again, like many players, Ray tended to forget everything once the action started and lose himself in the reverie of the game.

Ray had taught Joey how to play. The spent hours at the kitchen table, Ray patiently dealing hands and explaining the game to his son. He made it a point to teach Joey that most of the time you don't play the cards, you play the other players. Joey discovered he had an aptitude for the game. When he played nickel-dime-quarter poker with his buddies he always won, always. Joey had a good head for numbers, patience and a born gambler's luck, or so he thought. He was mulling over two of his father's favorite sayings, Don't fall in love with your cards and If a hand can be beat, it will be beat, when he felt a heavy hand on his shoulder. It was Ronnie

You can buy chips from Gus over there, he said, pointing to an old man behind the side bar who doubled as the bar tender.

Joey bought $100 worth of chips, $85 in 5s, the rest in ones. Gus looked a bit surprised when he saw who it was requesting chips, then muttered good luck and turned his attention back to the Racing Form.

There were five card tables in the room, three of them in action, and all of them had open seats. There was a low-ball table, a seven card stud table and a hold 'em table. Although Joey was familiar with all three games, he took a seat, joining seven other players, at the hold 'em table because that was the game his father usually dealt during their kitchen sessions. It also happened to be the only table with no limits on the betting.

As soon as he sat down, Joey began studying the other players. That was the third part of his father's mantra. Watch the other players. Everybody gives their hand away. They can't help it. Some hide it better than others but they're only human. You just have to look for the signs.

Of the seven players at the table Joey knew three of them by name and reputation. One was Greek George, a small, graying man who did nothing but gamble. It was rumored that he spent 18 hours a day, seven days a week in the card room. The second was Doc Slowik, a dentist with an office in the bank building next door. Doc loved to gamble, betting large sums at nine-ball and snooker, and spending days at a time in the card room, if the action suited him. It was said that only a stranger, a fool, or a broke gambler with a very bad toothache would ever go to Doc Slowik's office for dental work. The third player Joey recognized was Mellow, a black pool shark who was said to be a very good card player. Mellow was known not to work, but he always dressed in safety boots and overalls, as if he had just gotten off the 3 to 11 shift. It was easier to find marks when you looked like one.

The other four players seemed vaguely familiar. Joey figured he had probably seen them around the pool room at one time or another. None of the four were doing particularly well in the game. The big stacks belonged to Greek George, Doc and Mellow. Doc looked like he had thousands in chips stacked sloppily in front of him. Greek George was not far behind and Mellow seemed to have about half of what Doc had.

Joey was relieved to see that he had only the third smallest stack at the table. One of the players was on the verge of busting out having little more than $30 in chips and another wasn't far behind.

Before Joey saw his first card, Doc Slowik baited him. What have we got here, Doc said, loudly, causing players from the other tables to glance over. Must have finished your homework early, huh, Kid.

Joey's ears reddened. He had hoped his age wouldn't be an issue.

What's the matter, Doc continued, couldn't get a date for the prom? Decided to play a little poker instead?

A few of the men at the table laughed loudly. Joey could tell that they had been drinking. Doc Slowik had a glass in front of him, which he emptied with an audible slurp. Doc put his glass down, called for another drink, then, turned his attention back to Joey. I'm afraid you're in for another lesson, kid, he said. School's not out yet.

Deal, Angelo, Greek George said, quietly.

Just having a little fun with the kid, Doc said, to nobody in particular.

I'm not here to have fun, Greek George said, grumpily. I want fun I'll go to Riverview.

Joey, who had a bit of a temper, felt he had to say something. The reason I'm here, Doc, is to learn from the best.

You come to the right place, Doc replied.

So, if the best walks in here, you'll point him out to me, right.

Good one, Kid, Mellow said, laughing lightly.

Doc gave Joey a sour look and was about to say something, but Greek George spoke first. Deal, Angelo, he said, and cards went around.

Joey folded his first three hands, stayed with his blind on the fourth but folded after a raise before the flop.

On the fifth hand Joey caught pocket tens. The bet was on the small stack and he went all in with $32. There were several folds after that until it came to Mellow, who called. Joey thought for a moment and pushed in $32 to call. He was nervous but tried not to show it. A third of his bankroll was committed. It's not money, it's chips, he reassured himself. If it was a nickel-dime game I'd love this hand.

The flop came up 5, 10, jack, in different suits. Joey resisted the urge to take a deep breath or show any emotion. The all-in short stack looked miserable. Mellow's expression never changed, it was the same look he had no matter what cards he held. Doc Slowik stepped away from the table to stretch his legs, uninterested in a hand he wasn't playing. Joey noticed, however, that Greek George was watching him closely.

Mellow, who seemed to be indifferent to everything around him, bet the exact amount of Joey's remaining chips. Joey knew the odds were in his favor but the overcard jack scared him. If Mellow was sitting on a pair of jacks, or if one showed up on the board, then Joey had just squandered every cent his family had.

I hate to do it, Joey said, then pushed in his remaining chips. Angelo dealt out the turn which was another five, giving Joey a full house, and the river, which was a 3. Mellow smiled and showed his hand, an ace and jack in the hole. The short stack didn't bother showing his cards. Joey carefully turned over his pocket 10s. Mellow's expression never changed, but Joey thought he saw a hint of a smile on George the Greek's pallid face.

10s over 4s, full house wins Angelo announced, in his dealer's monotone.

Joey sat back in his chair and let out his breath, which he hadn't realized he'd been holding. He'd just more than doubled his money. If he walked out now he could pay the rent and have money left over. Would it be considered poor form if he walked out now?

It wasn't really a question Joey had to answer. There was no way he would leave the table. Winning that hand had been a great feeling. In fact, Joey thought, it might have been the greatest feeling he had ever had.

Joey settled into the rhythm of the game. He decided he would not go all-in again unless he had an unbeatable hand, the absolute nuts. He thought if he played carefully he might be able to win another hundred or so, then, leave the table. An hour later, he doubled his stack again, when the dealer flopped three clubs, including the ace, and Joey held the king-jack of clubs. Unless the board was paired, giving someone the chance for a full house, Joey had a lock on the hand.

Joey kept his expression neutral when Doc Slowik raised the blind. Mellow and Greek George folded, but two of the other players, both still wearing their work clothes, called. Joey had been studying Doc Slowik. When Doc had a good hand he became talkative, teasing the other players. When he had a poor or middling hand, he tended to quiet down, and he peeked at his hole cards more often, as if he couldn't believe what he had been dealt. By the way Doc was talking, Joey figured he had a strong pocket pair and had possibly made a set on the flop. It didn't matter, if the board wasn't paired on the next two cards, Joey couldn't lose.

Doc pushed $50 into the pot. I generally don't bet on cards this poor, but we're gambling, right.

Both steelworkers called, one of them going all-in. Joey hesitated a few moments, then pushed in $50.

You probably got me, kid. I don't even know why I'm sitting at a table with a shark like you, Doc chattered.

The turn card was a 9 of hearts, no help to anyone. Doc pushed in another $50. Good money after bad, he commented.

The remaining steelworker agonized over his hand. The stack he had was probably all that was left of his paycheck. Finally, he raised $35, going all-in. Again, Joey hesitated a few moments, checking his hole cards twice. Shaking his head he called the bets. The river card was a 7 of spades. Joey couldn't lose. He had a king high club flush with the ace of clubs on the board. Joey figured Doc for three of a kind.

Joey had a little more than $180 in his stack, and he was just waiting for Doc to make a move. Ronnie Pardo, who had been sitting in a chair by the door, reading the newspaper and drinking coffee, got up and shambled over to the table. He stood behind and off to the side of Joey, just watching the action. Still, Joey could sense the hulking presence behind him.

You know, kid, Doc said, a smug expression on his face, playing poker is a learning process. Then he bet $100. Every time you play you learn something new.

Deliberating a moment, Joey said, I guess this is going to be an expensive lesson, then called the $100 and re-raised, going all-in with his last $80.

Doc quickly called. Joey was wrong about Doc's hand. He actually held a queen high club flush, which he turned over with a chuckle. One steelworker held trips and the other two pair. When Joey turned over his king high flush, Doc said oh, bullshit and walked away from the table, muttering to himself. Both steelworkers gave Joey an ugly look before leaving the table.

As he was raking in more than $500, he felt a hand on his shoulder. It was Ronnie Pardo, who said, Nice hand, then walked back to his seat by the door.

Despite winning the hand, Joey felt a sense of unease. How could he have been so wrong about Doc's cards? He never figured Doc for a flush. If he had been sitting on trips, Doc would have busted him. He felt a bit confused and thoughtlessly called a $20 bet on the next hand. When he was raised, he saw that he had made a mistake and needed to concentrate on what he was doing. He folded the hand, feeling foolish for giving away $20.

Over the next hour he folded almost all of his hands, except for a couple where he picked up the blinds and once catching a fold from Greek George on the turn. His stack was up over $700 and he was thinking of a way to leave gracefully. Not that it mattered. This game wasn't like a nickel-dime home game where the losers got offended when a winner walked away with the money.

Joey decided he would see the cards once more around the table, then, take his winnings and leave. Two hands later Joey caught a pair of 7s on the deal. There were now five players at the table, Doc, Mellow, Greek George and a Mexican, named Tino, who had taken a seat a half hour earlier and had yet to see a flop. Joey decided that if Tino ever made a bet, he would fold anything short of a straight flush.

The table checked to Greek George, who bet $25. Doc called, Tino folded, Mellow folded and Joey called. The flop was a pair of 7s and a queen of hearts. Joey resisted the urge to check his hole cards. He was sure he had a pair of 7s, but when he saw the 7s on the board he doubted his memory. Quickly, almost hastily, Joey checked to Greek George, who, in his deliberate manner, bet $100. Doc, who seemed to be drunk, called. Joey took his time, checking and double-checking his whole cards. He did indeed have four 7s. He tried to put on a show of indecision, but was worried that Greek George might read him. It was better not to try to fake anything.

Come on, kid, Doc slurred, haven't got all day.

Joey called the $100. He figured Greek George for aces or kings in the hole, or perhaps a pair of queens that gave him a full house on the flop. And he also assumed that George figured him for, at best, three 7s. Joey also figured Doc for third best hand, since Doc had been playing almost every hand in the last hour, about the time the liquor caught up with him.

The turn card was a 3 of spades. Greek George rested his chin in his hands, looking into Joey's eyes. Joey stared back for a few moments then looked away. He was afraid George might see something. Finally, George bet $200. Doc looked at George, muttered something unintelligible and threw in his cards. This time Joey took a while to consider his next move. He wanted to go all-in on George, but wasn't sure whether to do it now, or wait for the river and go in over George's bet. If he went all-in now, he might spook George, although if he had a full house, it was hard to imagine him folding. A few onlookers gathered around the table. Joey could sense the looming presence of Ronnie Pardo. Even Gus, the old man behind the counter, came over to watch the action.

If Joey went all-in now, with his remaining $400, and George folded, he'd still pick up over $500. If he waited he could pick up another $400 -- unless another queen turned up. Joey decided to go for it now, when he had the hand locked up. He recalled his father's saying, If a hand can be beat, it will be beat. If George folded now he would never have the opportunity to catch that queen.

Call the $200, Joey said, pushing chips to the edge of the pot. And raise you all-in.

There were murmurs from some of the bystanders, and some of the players at the other tables left their seats to watch the action. Mellow, who had been watching quietly, nodded his head, savoring the situation. Doc Slowik, who normally didn't pay attention to hands he wasn't involved with, stayed in his seat to watch the outcome of this one. Well, well, he said, puppy’s got a bite.

Greek George didn't seem impressed. How much has he got there, he said to Angelo the dealer, without taking his eyes off Joey. Rather than let Angelo count his chips, Joey spoke up, I raised $215.

Greek George didn't hesitate. It was just another day at the office. Call, he said, counting out chips and pushing them toward the pot.

It seemed as if Angelo took a long time dealing the river. When he finally slid the card onto the table and turned it up, it was the ace of diamonds.

Since Joey's bet was the one called he turned up his cards first. As the 7s showed up on the table, a hush came over the room. George didn't bother showing his cards, which Joey had hoped to see, wanting to know if his read was correct. Nobody spoke until Angelo said, Four 7s is the winner.

An excited buzz broke the silence. Joey thought he heard someone say, The kid can play. Joey had never had so much money in his life. It was piled in front of him in stacks of blue, green and yellow chips. It was time to go. He stayed for two more hands, folding both, before standing up to leave. He found a sorting tray and as he was piling his chips on it Greek George asked, Are you Ray Mackey's kid?

Yeah.

I knew your dad. He was a good man.

Thanks.

Deal, Angelo.

Chapter 2

As Joey was walking home, he kept his hand in his pocket, holding the large wad of bills he carried. He couldn't wait to get home and count it. When he was cashing out he was in too much of a daze to remember the exact amount. He knew it was a little over $1,500, but didn't know exactly how much over $1,500. For some reason it seemed important to know the exact amount.

His other train of thought was what he would do with the money. He would pay the rent, of course, and maybe pay a couple of months in advance. He'd fill the refrigerator with food. Maybe spend on little on clothes. He had to keep a stake for the card room -- that was certain.

He was four blocks from home, trying to decide how much to hold back as a gambling stake, when a man stepped out from a doorway and stopped him cold.

We don't want to hurt you, the man said, harshly. Just give us what’s in your pocket.

Without thinking, Joey started to back away, but a hand in his back pushed him roughly forward, toward the man who had uttered the threat. Joey recognized him as one of the players in the card game, one who he had taken for a steelworker. He supposed the man behind him was one of the other players. When he looked closer he saw that the man was holding a knife with a long, slim blade, a push-button switchblade, and it was held low and pointed upward, not more than a foot from his stomach. Everything had happened so fast that Joey wasn't able to absorb it all. But the sight of the knife brought it home. He was about to lose everything.

Don't make me stick you, hissed the man with the knife, pushing the point of the blade right up to Joey's belly. It ain’t worth it.

Fear, anger, despair, but mostly fear, worked to paralyze Joey. He couldn't give up the money, it meant everything. He couldn't run and fighting back was senseless. Thinking quickly, Joey decided to offer the men half the money. Before he could speak, he felt a sharp pain as the knife point was pushed into his skin, through the thin material of his t-shirt. Joey could feel tears welling up and tried to blink them away. It was over. His world was falling apart.

Then a loud voice cut through the night. Party's over, motherfuckers!

It was Ronnie Pardo, walking up quickly through the darkness, his heavy footsteps echoing loudly off the sidewalk. His black leather jacket swung open as he moved, seeming to double his height and bulk. He looked like a battleship sailing out of a dense fog. Things happened quickly. Ronnie grabbed the man standing behind Joey by the back of the neck and threw him to the sidewalk. As the man tried to get up Ronnie kicked him in the head, sending him sprawling to the pavement, blood leaking from his ear. He tried to get up, but groaned in pain and keeled over helplessly. Seeing that the man was no threat, Ronnie turned his attention to the man with the knife.

Put it away or eat it, he said, ominously.

The man quickly folded the knife and slipped it into his pocket.

No shit, Ronnie the man said, obviously frightened. Even in the darkness Joey could to see the man's face becoming pale. I didn't know he was a friend of yours.

Get the fuck out of here, Ronnie ordered, angrily. Don't ever come around Cassidy's again.

Sure, Ronnie, whatever you say. The man started over to help his groaning friend up, but Ronnie stopped him.

Leave him. Just go -- right now.

The man was backing away when Joey said, Wait a minute.

Without taking his eyes from the retreating man Ronnie said, What?

I want that knife.

The knife? Ronnie asked.

The switchblade, I want it.

You heard him, Ronnie said.

The man fumbled for the knife in his pocket and almost dropped it as he handed it to Joey, then backed away and disappeared around the corner.

You OK? Ronnie asked. You've got a little blood on your shirt.

I’m OK. The fucker just scratched me, is all.

Where do you live?

A couple blocks away, on Tyler.

Come on, Ronnie said, I'll walk you home.

Joey almost stumbled as he started walking. He hadn’t realized how badly he had been frightened. He felt weak, as if the incident had drained the strength from his body. It wasn’t that Joey feared for his safety, it was the thought of coming home without any money that terrified him. Where would they live? What would they eat? What would they do? The consequences were all the more terrible for the fact that Joey couldn’t even imagine what they might be.

Walking down the street, with Ronnie Pardo shambling alongside, Joey felt his energy returning, felt the strength flowing back into his thin body. He reached into his pocket to make sure his money was still there. Then he glanced at Ronnie, who was walking along with his head down, his hands stuffed deep in his jacket pockets, and felt an enormous sense of security. The big man’s presence was such a comfort that Joey wanted to reach out and hug him.

As they passed Marko's Grill, a block away from his home, Joey asked Ronnie if he wanted something to eat.

Come on, man, he said, I haven't eaten all day. Let's get some burgers or something. My treat.

Ronnie said, I could eat, and they walked into the restaurant. After they ordered, Joey thanked Ronnie again for his help.

Ronnie shrugged, No big deal.

Well, it meant a lot to me. You have no idea how bad I need this money.

Everybody needs money.

Suddenly, Joey realized what he had to do. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the roll. He counted off five 20s and laid them on the table.

That's for you, he said, pushing the bills toward Ronnie.

Ronnie gave him a look, nodded, then reached out his huge hand, took the money and put it in his jacket pocket. He didn't say a word.

How did you know to follow me, Joey asked.

I saw those two fucks talking and pointing at you when you left, Ronnie replied. As soon as you walked out the front door, they hurried out the back.

Good thing you saw them.

Can't have that sort of thing happen to the card players, Ronnie explained. Gamblers come from all over to play cards here. It’s bad for business if word gets out that they're being mugged when they walk out the door.

When they finished eating, Joey had another coke and Ronnie ordered a coffee. After the waitress served them, Ronnie said, You know, you really got something.

What do you mean?

"The cards.