Half of Paradise

“Out.”

Two more coins thumped on the blanket.

“Give me three,” Toussaint said.

“One,” Benoit said. His pig-eyes studied his hand thoughtfully.

“Two for the dealer,” Billy Jo said.

“Your bet.”

“Ten cents,” Toussaint said.

“Bump you a dime more,” Benoit said.

“Call,” Billy Jo said.

Toussaint had opened on a pair of queens and had drawn another one.

“Call,” he said.

“What you got?” Benoit said.

“Three queens.”

“Fuck. I had two pair, ace high.”

They threw in their cards and Billy Jo took a nickel out of the pot. Toussaint scraped in his winnings. They played four more hands; Toussaint won two of them. One man had dropped out and gone to bed, leaving five in the game. The deal went around again. Toussaint won the next hand on a straight. He had a dollar and a half in coins before him. Benoit dealt the cards.

“Open for a nickel,” Avery said.

Everyone stayed.

“How many you want?”

“I’m pat,” Avery said.

“You ain’t taking no cards?”

“No.”

“Three,” Toussaint said.

The discards were scattered across the blanket. The man across from Toussaint drew one card.

“I’ll take the same,” Billy Jo said.

Benoit snapped two cards off the deck for himself. He mixed them in his hand and fanned them out slowly.

“Your bet, opener,” he said.

“My last nickel,” Avery said.

Toussaint had drawn to a pair of kings and missed. He threw in his cards.

“I’m out,” the man across from him said.

“I’ll see you,” Billy Jo said.