James Kelman - A Chancer

Erskine nodded. Pass mine, he said. He smiled at Tammas. I’m passing son, it cant last forever.

Tammas shrugged and inhaled on the cigar; then he nodded and turned his head to blow out the smoke, coughing slightly. And he watched the dealer count the bank’s money into four piles, and pass three of them plus part of the other one, up to Erskine.

Okay kid, the dealer said, you’ve got fifteen quid — what you doing? Want to withdraw anything?

Tammas was staring down at the money and made no answer.

The dealer looked at him. Listen, you were only in for a sixth of what was there — half a quid to Erskine’s two and a half. As it is I’ve had to stick you in a couple of bob to make up the round fifteen.

Aye, said Deefy. You’ve got to mind there’s a puggy coming off.

Tammas shrugged. Might as well leave it all in then.

The previous loser bankoed the money immediately. Tammas won again and the man bankoed once more, on the £30. When he lost he sat staring at the money for some time, he was still holding his wallet in one hand.

Davie. . The dealer asked, What you doing?

The guy looked at him.

You wanting eh. .? The dealer nodded his head at the money on the baize.

Naw. Davie slid the wallet into the inside pocket in his jacket and got up off his seat, he walked across the floor and out of the room.

The dealer raised his eyebrows and pursed his lips; he glanced quickly at Deefy and shrugged. Then he put the cigarette in his mouth and taking the puggy from the bank he said to Tammas, You’ve got fifty four quid son.

Give me a score.

Once he had passed him it the dealer glanced round at everybody. Thirty four quid lads, all or any part.

There was an immediate rush from the punters. Apart from the previous loser nobody had managed to get a bet on since the third round of the current bank. Both workers moved quickly trying to see that those who had stuck their money down first were covered, but even so there were a few grumbles. The dealer remained silent. He sat back on his chair smoking, one hand behind his head. Then he put the cigarette in his mouth and leaned forwards, tapped the table and flicked the cards from the shoe.

The man who had made the largest bet of the punters was given the cards; and he asked for another. The dealer gave him a 2. Tammas turned his and stayed on 4 to win. He inhaled the cigar and coughed, he pulled over an ashtray and ground it out then lighted one of his cigarettes. The dealer was looking at him, indicating the money. Tammas said, Give us thirty; split five for the workers; the rest goes.

The dealer smiled. He counted the £30 swiftly and passed it over, then he gave Deefy the additional £5. Deefy nodded to Tammas. And the other worker called: Ta son.

The cards were dealt. Tammas won again and waved his hand when the dealer glanced at him. And the dealer paused a moment, gathered up the money and called: Okay lads, there’s fifty eight quid here says there’s a bet for every one of yous.

After the initial flurry of money there was a fairly quick dwindling of it. The dealer grinned: I’ll take it in coppers!

A few of the men laughed, and began digging into their pockets. One of them brought out a ten pound note, some lesser stakes were laid down; then nothing. The dealer glanced at two men who were sitting next to each other. They had not placed a solitary bet since Tammas had taken the bank. The dealer pushed the shirt cuff back off his wrist and he examined his watch, muttering, Could be the last hand this, if we dont get moving soon.

One of the pair sniffed; the other one nodded, he placed five fivers on the baize.

Pony’s a good bet, replied the dealer, and he looked round at the rest of the players. Another tenner and we go.

One of the spectators stepped forwards; his hand came out of his coat pocket and he tossed two crumpled £1 notes onto the table.

Deefy lifted them and smoothed them and he winked at the guy. Stopped raining anyway Tommy — nice night for a walk!

The guy laughed. And soon the remaining £8 was taken by different punters. And the dealer was tapping the table and calling: Okay lads, we go. .

The major bettor was given the punters’ cards. He looked at them for a couple of seconds before saying: No card.

Tammas asked for one and the dealer flicked him a 7. That’s it, said Tammas, and he showed his other two — both face-cards.

The opposition tossed in his cards and shook his head: I’ve got 7 as well!

Another good paddle! called the worker with the bunnet.

Him and his fucking paddles, muttered a man.

Somebody from behind called: You cant beat that boy.

Then Deefy said. It’s only a draw lads it’s only a draw. Good yin but! He glanced at Tammas and winked.

The dealer had folded his arms and leaned back on his chair, gazing round at everybody. The conversations going on were quite noisy but eventually those doing the talking began to stop, and to look at the dealer. He sighed and grunted, Is that us got a bit of order at last?

Once the cards had been dealt the punters’ man glanced at his and made to speak. But before he did so Tammas was upturning his own pair and calling: 9 — natural!

Deefy grinned and he lifted the cards and put them next to each other on the centre of the table. A good 9, he said.

The reaction was not as loud as on the paddle; but three men left the game immediately and a couple of others moved away to sit at one of the poker tables. The dealer opened his cigarette packet and lighted a fresh one from the burning end of the old one. He passed one each to the workers, then glanced at Tammas but closed the packet when he saw he was smoking already.

All the money and the cards were still lying in a heap towards the middle of the baize. Deefy and the other worker had moved their chairs back the way and were conducting a conversation behind the dealer.

Tammas had borrowed the following morning’s Daily Record from a man and was reading the back pages. After a bit he turned to the racing, and noticed the workers now leaning to take in the cards. They began shuffling for a new shoe. He shut the newspaper and returned it to the man.

Okay, said the dealer. Much you wanting son?

Much have I got?

Hundred and sixteen.

Tammas frowned at the money on the baize.

The dealer smiled: Want me to count it? He sniffed and began to do so immediately.

It’s alright.

But the dealer continued, sorting it into wads of £20. A hundred and sixteen it is. Much you wanting.

See what you can get on.

Okay. . The dealer paused and smiled before saying: Right you are lads, quite a bit to go now.

A few grunts greeted this. Then a voice saying: How much exactly Jake?

Eh. . The dealer glanced up. It was Erskine back.

Much is it? For a banko.

The dealer glanced sideways: You sure you dont want something out son?

Eh naw, eh what about the workers maybe? Give them the odd six quid. And the puggy as well? What about it?

Fuck the puggy! The dealer grinned and extracted six singles and passed them to Deefy. Then he smiled at Erskine. You’ve got a hundred and ten.

Erskine nodded. He had taken a thick wad of notes from his trouser pocket and began counting. But one of the two men who had lost most of the last bet suddenly stood up. Wait a minute, he cried, this is fucking ridiculous. I just done a forty there! A forty — and you’re trying to tell me I’ve not to get a chance to get my money back!

The dealer stared at him.

Fuck sake Jake!

A silence followed. Then Erskine said: Fair enough. Let them get as much on as they like — I’m no bothering.

Well it’s up to you, said the dealer. But as far as I’m concerned you’ve bankoed the bet. And a banko’s a banko in this club.