Doc's Place

Chapter 18 | Part 3

Monday, October 15, 1984

Call Morty. We chat about how business is going, about his Thursday meeting at nine a.m. and about my recovery. He tells me that Glenn is across the street at the Flamingo watching poker games.

"Maybe I'll head down there and sit in for a couple rounds."

"If you're serious, I'll head over there myself." "See you in a few minutes." Disconnect and turn to Lloyd. "Do you mind running me downtown to the Flamingo? I'm meeting a couple guys from Doc's Place. Play a few rounds of poker."

"What about your therapy with Soji?"

"Skip it. All work and no play make Jill a bitch." When I hear Lloyd exhale through her nose, I ask, "What?"

"Nothing, go get ready."

Move slowly to my bedroom to take a shower and dress in running shoes, jeans, a tee shirt and a light jacket. From the safe, I pull three grand in cash. We take the Buick downtown to the Flamingo and pull into valet parking, which is not busy on a Monday night. We find the poker room and I sign up for Texas Hold `Em.

Glenn and Morty are standing with the small crowd watching one game so I walk over and stand beside them. They hug me gently and say I look great.

Introduce them to Lloyd when the poker manager says he has a chair for me. Sit and buy a thousand in chips. Fold early with a pair and then fold again with a three-of-a-kind. Finally, I get a garbage hand and run my bet to three hundred. The pot is close to a couple thousand before I show my losing hand.

Around the table, I see the lidded eyes staring at me, evaluating. Their lips moist and their eyes gleaming, the players watch me. A guy watching from the sidelines enters the game.

A fat man in a green-and-white Hawaiian shirt, tinted glasses and a colorful hat gives me a single glance and then ignores me. He won the last hand and looks like the shark I'm here to kill.

Fold with two pair, garbage, another pair and another three. Consider betting on an eight-high straight but I call early and win a few hundred. An hour later, I get four of a kind—all deuces. Run the bet up so I have to buy another five hundred in chips to stay in the game.

Every player—all seven of them—at the table stays in and finally calls so they can see my cards. The fat man in the sunglasses stares at me.

My eyes hold his eyes as I lay down my hand.

With a slow blink, he looks at my hand and then returns his eyes to lock on mine. His expression does not change as he stares at me.

Freeze my face as well, waiting as the commotion dies down and the dealer slides the entire pile over to me. It should be about eight thousand minus the house cut. Hold the eyes of the fat man.

Finally, the waitress asks him if he'd like a drink and he looks away from me. He orders water with lime and no ice.

The next several hands are weak but finally, I pull another garbage hand. Bet a couple hundred on it and lose to my rival. The pot is about fifteen hundred or so. Glance at Lloyd, Morty and Glenn. They're watching me closely.

Things go back and forth for a while until I get a few hearts, which becomes a queen-high straight flush. Work the pot up slowly. The fat man in sunglasses stays in but two other guys have learned their lesson and fold. The pot has about five grand when I finally stop raising the ante.

Only the fat man and I remain. He directs his glasses at me as I fan out my hand.

A cheer and applause go up as three men cash out their chips and leave the table. Two players sit in on the game and buy chips.

Glance at Lloyd who points at her watch and holds up two fingers. Two hours until Sara arrives so it's around seven o'clock. Nod at her. About a half-hour later, I drop five hundred so I cash out and leave the table, tipping the dealer a hundred.

As I walk out of the poker room holding the receipt, Glenn says, "Figure you're about ten grand to the good. Not bad for a couple hours' play."

"It was fun," I say to them. Scan the room about me. It's been a while since I've been in public. "Stop by the cashier cage for a moment." They wait while I open a casino player's account and deposit the sixteen grand at the cashier cage. Tip the cashier a twenty. The four of us move to a dark, quiet lounge near the back and order drinks.

Glenn remarks, "So, you wait for a garbage hand, bet a few hundred and lose. That sets up the suckers to stay in next time you bet the pot up several thousand, right?"

A slim guy in a leather jacket sits a few tables away and lights a cigarette. At the same moment, I realize that the young girl is back. Even though she is underage, she is sitting at the next table. Turn to Glenn and ask, "Did you see my mark?"

"The Hawaiian shirt? You spanked him good."

We talk about table policy and rhythm of play at the Flamingo compared to places in Reno and Las Vegas. Morty seems content to listen quietly, making an occasional comment. Lloyd asks questions. Glenn seems quite taken with her.

"I'll be back," I tell them. Stand and walk through the lounge and across to the restroom. The girl follows me, waiting inside near the door. Wash my hands as the slim guy moves in fast and quiet from behind. Turning under his right arm, I toss him into the mirror above the wash basins. His face slaps the mirror hard and he falls, his chest and face bouncing off the edge of the marble counter before he collapses to the floor. He's still breathing and has a pulse but he's unconscious.

Pull the wallet from his jacket. His driver's license is local. Take the license and the four hundred-dollar bills inside. Cigarette pack and a lighter in another jacket pocket. Three twenties and a four-inch butterfly knife in his pants pocket, which I leave. Leave the restroom whistling lightly, looking about me. No one seems to be waiting for him. The lonely ladies at the bar don't even glance my way.

Back at the table, I drop one of the hundreds and say, "Let's go, Lloyd. Guys, it was fun. Lloyd and I are picking up someone at the bus station."

Glenn and Morty rise to give us hugs and light kisses on the cheek. Lloyd and I are walking away a few seconds later.

"The bus station?"

"Whatever," I tell her, scanning.

"A guy followed when you went to the head," says Lloyd softly.

Hand her his driver's license. "Give this to Tony George when he gets in tomorrow afternoon so he can check the guy out."

"You took his driver's license?"

Wait until she hands the ticket to the valet, who takes off running. Glancing at her in the process of watching other people around us, I say, "Tried to jump me in the head."

She stares at me open-mouthed as I move around to the driver's side. Palming the valet a twenty, I put the Buick in drive and mash the gas, pulling away.

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License

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Doc's Place Chat
© 2008, Michel Grover.
Chapter 18 | Part 3
Winter Late 2009

Lucia :

Mic has posted in the left frame paragraphs from Doc's Place, one of his copyrighted stories. I'm moderating chat here in the right frame. I post every day, but I don't post everything. I have formed a secondary group from which I may also post comments.

Jules :

Pretty funny when Lloyd exhales through her nose at Jill's suggestion that all work and no play make Jill a bitch. Hell, Jill's a bitch 24/7, but Lloyd lets it slide.

Maria :

Also pretty subtle that Jill refers to Morty and Glenn as just a couple guys from Doc's Place when they're both Directors of Operations—executives over the casino's 2 biggest revenue streams.

Raj :

Typical of Jill the way she draws the would-be sharks into that table. I suppose it is also human nature for others to dive into the water to be in on an easy kill.

Alan :

Do you play poker, Raj?

Raj :

A few friends and I have recently taught ourselves to play poker and find it to be an intriguing, albeit frustrating game. We have begun playing once a week and keeping a record of all hands, bets, losses and wins in a database.

Even though poker is a game of skill, which one can master to improve consistency, it still requires a large component of luck. Some of us have good instincts. We do not know if they learned such instincts or if they have had them since birth. From this story part, we surmise that Jill has finely tuned instincts for poker. Again, we do not how she acquired these instincts, but we would appreciate hearing the opinions of the group.

Les :

Raj, I like your list of what it takes to win at poker: instincts, skill and luck. Would you like to revise the list before we continue?

Raj :

Yes, I would like to add experience, largely because my poker group and I do not have enough of it.

Les :

Okay, here's the list, in no particular order, of what it takes to win at poker: instincts, skill, experience and luck. Anyone else?

Carlo :

Situational awareness, but I do not know whether to list it under skill, instincts or separately.

Les :

We'll list it separately. Here's the list now: situational awareness, instincts, skill, experience and luck.

Benny :

Even though you said the list is in no particular order, Les, you have skewed the list, nonetheless. Everyone probably agrees that one can acquire situational awareness, skill and experience but how does one acquire instincts and luck?

Les :

Good point, Benny. New list: one can acquire situational awareness, skill and experience but one cannot acquire instincts and luck.

Benny :

I'm sorry, but now that I see it, I want to change the list: [1] one can acquire skill and experience; [2] one can improve native instincts and situational awareness; and [3] one can improve in taking advantage of luck, but one cannot acquire or improve luck. That's it.

Les :

Good list, Benny. Raj, Carlo, do you approve?

Raj :

Yes

Carlo :

Yes

Les :

Does anyone else have a comment on the list?

Lupita :

Reading tells is critical but it's a skill so it doesn't change the list. I'm just emphasizing its importance as a skill. By the way, this is an excellent list, Benny, Carlo and Raj. Thank you for pulling it together, Les.

Raj :

Our Bengaluru group agrees that this list is valuable and instructive. Some in the group ask Lupita if reading tells is actually a native instinct one can improve.

Lupita :

Mm, good question, but the answer is no. Reading tells is a skill that one can document, teach, and improve with experience if one is willing to learn.

Raj :

Thank you, and one more question, if you please. Do you agree with Carlo's analysis of your 2 matches on the Olympics '08 DVD?

Lupita :

Interesting timing, Raj. Why ask that particular question now?

Raj :

We believe that you care about your opponent only to the extent that you can read her tells. Otherwise, we believe that Carlo's analysis is accurate.

Lupita :

I thought so. Please accept my compliments to those in your group who developed this question, because they are correct. I fought both opponents previously, so I read their tells and acted accordingly.

Raj :

One more request, please, Lupita. The size of our Bengaluru group has tripled since you joined the group. Even though you care nothing for god and know little of Vishnu and other deities, our group has elevated you to the position of a minor deity. We request a signed copy of one of your Olympic '08 posters so that we may frame it and post it here in the coffee shop as a shrine to your revered image. Please do not take offense at the impertinence of our request.

Lupita :

Okay, give the mailing address to Lucia and I'll send you one. Sorry, everyone, but I get this now that I'm a minor—very minor—celebrity.

Carlo :

Hey, if circumstance has prepared any of us for celebrity status, it's you, Lupita. One of your signed posters is on eBay, and recently rose in bidding from $50 to >$250 and climbing. Soon you'll be receiving proposals of marriage.

Anyway, when Jill lays eyes on the fat man, she thinks he "looks like the shark I'm here to kill." Now, most winning poker players I know tell me that they consider the losers they take money from to be sheep for shearing, not sharks for killing. My comment: Jill is not here for the money, which is no surprise to us, or even the play. She's not here because she has cabin fever. She is here to find, hunt down and kill a predator in one form or another, because she hasn't had the opportunity in a few days. She's hungry for a kill.

Benny :

Good point, Carlo, but Jill doesn't share how she reads the fat man's tells, just like Lupita doesn't share how she reads her opponents' tells. Jill probably won't tell us shit. How about you, Lupita?

Lupita :

Nope. My read on my opponents' tells have value but I haven't tested the market yet to see what they're worth, Benny. I can share my opinion about how Jill reads the fat man's tells, however. She says the fat man "gives me a single glance and then ignores me." To me, that glance together with his studiously ignoring her is a dead giveaway—both know they are adversaries.

Later, when she plunges the first harpoon into him with her first big pot, they stare at one another. He doesn't pull his eyes away until he must order his drink. Even later, when everyone has folded but Jill and the fat man, Mic describes her killing thrust thus, "He directs his glasses at me as I fan out my hand." As a reader, that's all you get, but if you read tells as I do, that's plenty. He knows that she has delivered the killing blow and he knows that he is dying, so to speak. Notice that she doesn't even look his way again. Why? In terms a Vietnam era veteran like Jill might use, he is a confirmed kill—with witnesses.

Benny :

I like your interpretation, Lupita. Later, when Glenn, an executive with 40yrs experience in table games, evaluates the game, he asks only about her tactics, not her reading of tells. She doesn't even acknowledge Glenn's question, either. She asks the most obvious of questions, "Did you see my mark?" Later, Jill goes to the head and puts the hurt on the slim guy. If the fat man is the shark she came here to kill, then who is the slim guy, Lupita?

Lupita :

Dessert or a bonus maybe, but she didn't expect to fight a guy in the women's restroom at the Flamingo after playing poker.

Benny :

What opinion can you provide us about Jill's handling of Lloyd as they pull away from the Flamingo?

Lupita :

Mic's reinforcing what Jill thought earlier—Lloyd thinks like her only up to a certain point.

Why are you trying to test me, Benny? You're no match for me, and not because I'm 2yrs older. No, it's because you've already revealed your objectives and tactics. Everyone knows what you did to Doug and how you used Alice to do it. You can't sneak up on me any more than you could sneak up on a Reno pit boss with 40yrs on the job.

To me, Benny, you're brilliant at some things but whether you realize it or not, you're a kid sitting at the grown-ups' table. I, on the other hand, grew up in LA. I'm about to graduate from a private prep school. I represented my nation at the Olympics in a competitive, demanding sport and won. However, the biggest difference between us, Benny, is that you don't know what you want. I know not only what you want but also what I want. You can't compete with me and get my attention let alone get my respect or threaten me. Maybe I'll teach you things in time but if you continue bothering me, you'll hurt yourself, Benny.

Tell him, Alice. I don't want Benny hurting himself any more than you do.

Alice :

Hmm, I wasn't paying attention to the back-story, but now that I read the recent exchange between the two of you, I see what you mean, Lupita. Do as she says and back off, Benny. Lupita outclasses you by several orders of magnitude.

Lupita :

You too, Amalie. Tell him.

Amalie :

Me? What does this have to do with me? This is between Benny and you, Lupita. Isn't it?

Lupita :

No, Benny thinks it's between you and him. Wake up, Amalie. Benny thinks you're in love with each other. How silly is that?

Amalie :

It's ridiculous. I do not believe you, Lupita.

Lupita :

Oh yes, you do, you little French foufou. You're sitting there realizing that you should have stopped this between Benny and you long ago, but you've been ignoring it even though Alice, Alan and Suze have been trying to warn you because the attention titillates you. You start showing some sack right now and tell Benny or I will, Amalie.

Amalie :

Susan?

Susan :

You're on your own, Amalie.

Benny :

Ignore them and follow your instincts, Amalie.

Amalie :

Merde. No Benny, you do as Lupita says. I care for you but I am a lesbian, always have been and always will be.

Benny :

I thought you were beginning to like Doug.

Amalie :

I did, I do, but not as a woman wants a man, Benny. Doug is a part of me. He is and always will be one of my counselors, as will you, as will all of you.

Benny :

Newsflash, Amalie. Doug is out of the group.

Doug :

Well, it depends on what you call out, Benny. We had to let you have your way so that Amalie would see what was happening and do something about it. When Amalie didn't have the sack to confront you, they brought in Lupita.

Benny :

Whom is they?

Lucia :

Whom do you think? They are Jill, Ume, Sara, Le, Lizzie and so on—Pere executives. They run everything, right?

Benny :

This is not running things. This is manipulation.

Lucia :

Newsflash, Benny. Manipulation is how they run things.

Benny :

Well, great. Now I look like an ass in front of my friends.

Lucia :

You look like an ass because you acted like one in front of your friends. We love you, but sometimes, you behave like an immature teenager, so we showed you what you were doing.

Amalie :

Don't feel too badly, Benny. If you look like an ass, then I look like 10 asses. This is my fault. I am sorry, everyone, especially to you, Benny.