Vox Mentis

He's in a group, so engage the group. If any of them have a competitive streak you can use that. Give a loss to the first player, and a win to the next.

"All right, sir, you and your friends there, step on up. Strength in numbers, am I right? You did me a favor, I think. That lady may have cleaned me out."

"I may clean you out," says the guy, approaching the table, compatriots close behind. They're quietly conversing amongst themselves, eyeing you up.

"Ho, ho. A big talker. That's fine, sir. Talk as much as you like. No price tag on talking. The game, though, that's two dollars."

He drops two bills onto your card table. You find him irritating, although you're not sure why: Guys like this, arrogant, competitive, an audience watching, they're gold. They'll lose and double up forever. You'll have to throw someone in his group a win here and there, so they won't blow up, accuse you of cheating. But if you're smart, they'll play all day. They'll do it because once they're in the hole, their pride won't let them out. You'd taken $180 from a guy like this not two months ago, most of it on the last game. His neck had bulged and his eyes had watered and you'd seen how much he wanted to hit you. But there was a crowd. You'd eaten well that night.

You sling the queen and two aces onto the table. "Catch her if you can." You flip them, begin to switch them around. "Loves her exercise, does the queen. Always takes her morning constitutional. Problem is, where does she go?" They guy's not even looking at the cards. "Hard to win if you don't watch, sir. Very tricky." His ID tag says: HI! I'M LEE! Below that: AUTHORIZED QUESTIONNAIRE ADMINISTRATION AGENT. "Lee, is it? You must be good if you can follow the queen without looking at her, Lee. Very good."

"I am," he says, smiling. He hasn't taken his eyes of you.

Eh, just do it randomly for once. You're feeling lazy today.

Hell no. Not for this guy. Any laziness you may have felt earlier has evaporated. You decide to take Lee's two dollars. If someone in his group ponies up, you'll give them a win; then you'll ask if Lee wants to double up and you'll take that and you will be merciless, not give Lee a single game, because Lee is a dick.

The crowd murmurs. You're flicking the cards too fast, holding nothing back. You stop. Pull away your hands. There's a collective titter and some applause. You're breathing fast.

"Well," you say. "Let's see how good you are, Lee."

He still hasn't looked at the cards. One of the guys in his group smiles at you brilliantly, as if he's only just noticed you. The other boy mutters to the girl, "Good thing is I'm right where I wanna be, right in the best possible place," and the girl nods and says, "Yeah, you're so right."

"On the right," Lee says.

Wrong. "You sure about that? Want a moment to think?" But your hands are already moving, eager to claim victory. "Last chance to-"

"Queen on the right," he says, and as you touch the cards, you feel your fingers slide under and to the right. Your left hand goes out in a flashy extension that does nothing but draw the eye, and you right slips one card below the other.

There's scattered applause. You stare. The queen of hearts is on the right. You switched them. At the last moment, you switched them. That was not the plan. The plan was to obliterate him. Why had you done that?

"Well done, sir." You notice Jimmy shifting his feet, glancing around for cops, no doubt wondering what the hell you are doing. "Congratulations." You reach into your money pouch. Two bucks. A difference of four, between winning and losing. That's a meal. You hold out the bills, and when Lee takes them, it hurts. He tucks them into his wallet. The girl glances at her watch, something plastic and shiny. One of the boys yawns. "Play again? Double up, perhaps? Folks like you like to play for real money, am I right?" You're pushing, can hear the strain in your own voice, because you know you've lost them.

"No. Thank you." He looks bored. "There's nothing here I want."

~

"What the fuck?" says Jimmy.

You keep walking, hunched over, your Pikachu bag on your back, floppy hat wobbling about. The sun is setting but heat radiates out of the sidewalk, coming off the brick tenements in waves.

"Fucking explain to me what happened there," Jimmy demands. "Because I don't fucking understand what your plan was."