Robert Asprin - Dragons Wild

In the time he had been shooting, he had noticed a marked improvement in his game, which in turn encouraged him to practice more. He had even been asked to join one of the pool-league teams, but had refused because his schedule was so uncertain. The house shooters remained friendly, however, and were more than happy to show him some drills or to advise him on the ins and outs of position play and spin.

He was just lining up what he hoped would be an easy combination shot, when a minor stir rippled through the bar, and he glanced up to check the reason.

Gris-gris had just walked in alone, and was scanning the place. When he saw Griffen, he held his hands up in a “no hassle” gesture and walked over to him.

Since everyone knew there was bad blood between the two of them, half the bar was watching closely. Some craned their necks to see better, while a few others left their seats to drift a little closer to the action.

Gris-gris stopped a few paces from where Griffen stood.

“Mr. McCandles,” he said.

“Gris-gris.” Griffen nodded back. “And it’s ‘Griffen’ or ‘Grif’ to my friends.”

Gris-gris’s face split with a wide grin.

“Listen. If you got a minute, I need to talk to you. Can I buy you a drink?”

“No problem,” Griffen said. “Hey, Steamboat! Can you take over this rack for me?”

Passing the stick over to his replacement, they stepped to the bar, gathered their drinks, and retired to one of the circular tables along the wall…the same one, in fact, that Griffen had been sitting at for his last meeting with Gris-gris.

More and more, Griffen found himself sitting with his back to the wall, facing the doors, wherever he was. No sense letting anyone, local or more dangerous threat, have an easier drop on him. He tried not to overthink his new paranoia, especially when it seemed to be justified.

“So, what’s up?” Griffen said, settling into his chair.

Gris-gris looked nervous, fidgeting with his drink as he talked.

“There’s a couple of things I need to talk to you about,” he said. “Let me get the first one out of the way so you don’t think the second one has anything to do with it.”

“All right,” Griffen said. “Shoot.”

He immediately wished he had used a different word, but Gris-gris didn’t notice and plowed on.

“Well, first of all I wanted to tell you that I’ve thought about it and decided to keep my game with your organization. I’ll be using your network and paying you a percentage like before…including the payments I missed during our little difference of opinion.”

Griffen kept the surprise off his face and simply nodded.

“That’s great, Gris-gris,” he said. “I’m looking forward to working with you.”

He made a little toasting motion with his glass that Gris-gris returned.

Instead of continuing, however, Gris-gris kept fidgeting uncomfortably, glancing around the room.

“What’s the other thing?” Griffen said, prompting him.

Gris-gris seemed to gather himself.

“Well, you see…”

He broke off and took another sip of his drink.

“What it is…” he began again, then stopped.

Griffen frowned at him.

“You’re starting to worry me, Gris-gris,” he said. “Talk to me. Are you in trouble with the law? Do you need money?”

Gris-gris shook his head.

“Nothin’ like that,” he said. “Look. What I’m trying to say is that I want to date your sister…if it’s all right with you, I mean.”

Griffen sat back in his chair and blinked. For a moment, he could think of absolutely nothing to say.

“Hey, if there’s a problem…that’s cool.” Gris-gris said hastily, misunderstanding the silence.

“No. It’s just…you just caught me by surprise is all,” Griffen managed at last. “You know, this is the first time anyone ever asked my permission to date Valerie. We’ve always pretty much gone our separate ways.”

“Then it’s okay?”

“I don’t have a problem with it,” Griffen said. “I figure it’s her decision to make.”

Besides, Griffen thought, the rumor mill has been so good that he has worried less and less about her. Here, the town protected his “little” sister.

“I understand that,” Gris-gris said. “I just didn’t want you to think I was sneaking around behind your back to hit on your sister. Some guys get real upset if they think you’re trying to pull a fast one.”

“Well, I appreciate you letting me know,” Griffen said, finally starting to recover from his surprise. “It’s always good to keep communication lines open.”

“Speaking of that,” Gris-gris said, “I don’t have any way to get in touch with her…or you for that matter. That’s why I came looking for you here.”

“We can fix that easy enough,” Griffen said. I’ll pass you both our cell phone numbers before you leave. In the meantime, let me get the next round here.”

As he went to the bar to get the drinks, it occurred to Griffen that he should probably check with Valerie before giving out her cell phone number. The more he thought about it, though, the more he was convinced to let things go as they stood.

Why should he be the only one to have to deal with surprises?

Fourth of July weekend meant different things to different people in New Orleans.

For some it was the Essence Fest, another of the numerous music festivals that dotted the city calendar.

For others, it meant a long weekend break from work. Weather permitting, an excursion to the beach, the Audubon Zoo, or even just a picnic or backyard barbecue provided a sufficient change of pace.

With the hotels and restaurants full, the service industry dropped it into low gear and worked their tails off. No rest for the wicked.

For Mose’s crew, and therefore for Griffen, it meant a high-stakes poker game.

It seemed that this was a yearly event that a group of regular players attended, both local and out of towners. To be accurate, it was one of several yearly games that Mose hosted, usually coinciding with holidays or major local celebrations. This was just the first big game that Griffen had been invited to play in since he arrived in New Orleans three weeks earlier.

While he was at college, there were several regular games that Griffen would sit in on. These would usually be at someone’s apartment or fraternity house, and would be held on specific nights of the week. Some of them would begin midday on Friday and continue through the weekend, with players sitting in, then leaving to go on a date or sleep, then sitting in again. Those games were usually at nickel/dime/quarter or, in some cases, quarter/half/dollar stakes. The host would usually pull a low chip or two out of every pot to cover the cost of the cards (they always used new decks) and refreshments. Griffen’s real preference was half/dollar/five stakes as it upped the power of the bluff, but students were traditionally poor and games like that were rare unless you were willing to collect large quantities of IOUs.

The Fourth of July game Mose hosted was nothing like that.

Instead of sitting around someone’s dining room table in an apartment, they had a suite at the luxurious Royal Sonesta Hotel in the heart of the French Quarter. There was an open wet bar with top-shelf liquors, and instead of potato chips and pizza they had trays of sandwiches and potato skins from room service. They also had a real casino poker table with two nonplayers (Jerome being one) alternating as dealers.

The stakes were $25/$50/$100 with $500 chips available if the betting got fierce. It was the highest stakes game Griffen had ever sat in on, and he was worried that it would affect his game. While in theory, one should play a blue chip the same whether it was worth a dollar or a hundred dollars, it was hard to keep the actual dollar value out of one’s mind. As an example, Griffen had always avoided the penny/nickel/dime games back at school. For one thing, the amount to be won in a single evening wasn’t worth the time and effort. More important, the low stakes affected everyone’s play. Even if someone raised your bluff the limit on the last card, for a dime it was easy to call the raise just to see if your busted flush and one medium pair would stand up.