Shark of Spades

Playing the Game

Why did I arrive early? Because I always arrive early. It gave me time to observe the environment, test the atmosphere, and slowly analyze  every new arrival. Someone had once dared to enter before me. They didn't play in my games anymore.

The only one who I didn't mind was Jack himself, but that was for an altogether different matter. Jack couldn't be analyzed like the other simpletons in the same manner that a devil can't be compared to mere humans. There was that, and the fact that he was just plain entertaining.

And such is the manner of a gambler, is it not? To play games with the cards...

And to play games with the people.

Both Jack and I were overly sufficient in both.

Sufficient enough, in fact, to make a rather good team, which led me to answer him by saying, "How about Red Hand?"

He grinned, his eyes glittering as he picked up on my idea. "A fine choice, a fine choice," he said. "50/50?"

I scoffed at him, raising my sunglasses a fraction of an inch with my gloved hands. "60/40, and I'll let you play around."

He looked positively Satanic now. "My, my. You always know how to keep me baited. After you," he said, opening the door and giving me a little  push inside.

I hated physical contact, and he knew it.

I took my seat in the corner as usual, doing a quick scan of the room.

"Everything's in order, just as you like it," Jack confirmed, sitting opposite me.  "No tricks, no false pockets, no fake decks, no hidden alcoves."

I nodded. "I would say thanks, but you already know that these things are expected."

He grinned. "Charming as always, Card."

I smirked. "That's what I'm paid for, isn't it?" Indeed, half the pay is from flair. The other half comes from what backs up the  flair, which resided in my pocket. I can play all I want to, but the gun ensures that I'll walk out with my earnings. And I always earn.

Our conversation ended as a knock sounded on the door, followed by the  opening of said door and the entrance of Barry O'Neilly, a chop-shop owner who used his extra cash to play a little on the darker side. He  wasn't an asshole, but by no means did that equate to any skill level whatsoever in the game of cards.

The next to enter was Donahue (first or last name, I wasn't aware, only that Donahue seemed  to sum up his entire existence). He had money enough and was ranked  somewhere above thrill-seeker O'Neilly. After him was Marx Yahee,  another familiar face with a less familiar personality (not because I didn't know a lot about him, but because there was nothing to his  personality worth knowing).

The last to enter was someone I had never seen before, which immediately alarmed me, although I didn't show any emotion. I know everyone, so who the hell is he? He had dark hair a bit too long to be accidental but not long enough to  make a statement, more as if he'd missed his last haircut and vaguely made a note to get a trim in the near future. His features were strong, with a square jaw and a confidence in his eyes that was above the other low-levels. I'd have to be careful, but I was confident that I could beat him.

Once they had sat down, I nodded towards Jack, and he  closed the door, locking it so no others could be admitted. "Today, we'll be playing Red Hand. Any objections?"

Marx squinted at the table before looking at me, and when I stared back at him, he just went back to squinting at the table. He'd probably wanted to change the game but had correctly assumed whose choice it had been and had thus  calculated the cost to reject the decision. Donahue just nodded  silently, while O'Nielly just shrugged. He was only there for fun, anyway. The newcomer just looked around the table and decided to go with  it.

Jack flashed those white triangles again. "Perfect. Now we'll pair up. We'll play a quick round of blackjack to decide on partners for Red Hand. Winner gets to choose their partner, and whoever puts the most in the pot to start Red Hand chooses second." He dealt and, as expected, I won, although only by a little. I didn't want the newcomer to catch on just yet. Otherwise, he might be skimpy with his money.

I nodded at Jack. "You."

"I  don't often participate, but for you, I'd be happy to oblige." He winked at me, and we stared at each other until the other teams had been  decided: Donahue with the newcomer, and Marx with O'Neilly. Interesting, how the two with the brains of a two-by-four had grouped up  (Marx and O'Nielly), while the quiet ones with unknown dispositions had paired. This could be more fun than I had thought.

And so Red Hand began.