Were they hustlers?
Rufus nodded. Their hands gave them away. They were wearing dirty construction clothes, but didnt have any calluses and their fingernails were clean.
Valentine took Las Vegas Boulevard to the freeway, then headed north toward their hotel. The Celebrity, two exits away, was hosting the World Poker Showdown. A giant billboard in front of the hotel resembled a movie marquee, on which a video clip was being shown.
Is that who I think it is? Rufus asked.
Skip DeMarcos handsome face had appeared on the marquee. DeMarco had knocked several famous players out of the tournament that day, just as he had since the beginning of the tournament four days ago, each time by calling their bluffs. DeMarco had read his opponents hands, even though he could not see their faces.
That boys getting famous, Rufus said. Too bad hes a cheat.
The bartender at the Jackalope said DeMarco is in collusion with the dealer, Valentine said.
Doing what?
Touch cards.
Rufus shook his head. I dont think so.
Why not?
Theres a tell with touch cards. The thumb of the dealers hand scrapes across the top card. It wouldnt fly.
The traffic started to move and Valentine goosed the accelerator. On the marquee, DeMarco was dragging his opponents chips across the table with a gleeful look on his face. Rufus let out a disapproving snort.
I cant wait to play that boy once the tournaments over, Rufus said.
You really dislike him, dont you?
Kids got no class. You can tell hes never driven the white line.
Whats that?
Looking for action. You drive a couple hundred miles to a game youve heard about. Sometimes the town isnt even on a map. If the game looks beatable, you play. You do this forty weeks a year, and spend the rest of the time at home, getting reacquainted with your wife and kids. Its a hard way to make a living. And the hardest part is driving the white line, not knowing what lays in store for you.
Sounds dangerous, Valentine said.
It is. One time down in Austin, I was playing in a tent on this rich guys cattle ranch. It was Saturday night, and theres a hundred guys playing poker. Not just ordinary guys, either. There were billionaire oilmen, richer-than-God cattle barons, the crème de la crème of high society, if Texas has such a thing.
A car pulled up, and four hooded guys with machine guns jumped out. They shot up the tent and made everyone lie down, then robbed us. They were slick, and everyone knew not to mess with them. I was the last person they got to. One of the robbers stared at me. Then he winked.
A friend? Valentine asked.
Yup. Wed run together for a year. Id heard hed fallen on hard times.
What did you say to him?
Nothing. I didnt want anyone in that tent knowing we were acquainted. I gave him everything I had, including my late fathers watch.
That must have been hard.
I got it all back in the mail a week later. He hadnt even touched my bankroll.
They reached their exit. A minute later, Valentine was pulling up a winding front entrance lined with palm trees.
That was awful nice of him, Valentine said.
Rufus frowned, as though being nice had nothing to do with it. He wasnt going to rob me, even if I was the last person on the face of the earth. We drove the white line together.
People who gambled for a living lived on a roller-coaster: one day they were up, the next day they were hurtling down. When Valentine had first gotten together with Rufus four days ago, the old cowboy, one of the first victims of Skip DeMarco, had been poorer than a church mouse, and Valentine had offered the couch in his suite for Rufus to sleep on. Even though Rufuss for tunes had changed dramatically since then, hed not asked Rufus to leave. He enjoyed the old cowboys company.
They walked through the hotels main lobby, which had a jungle motif. It reminded Valentine of an old Tarzan movie, and at any moment he half-expected a guy wearing a loincloth to come swinging through the lobby.
They got on an elevator, Valentine hitting the button for the fourth floor. As the doors closed, two guys hopped on. Late thirties, one black, the other white, they argued over who was the best golfer of all timeNicklaus or Woodsneither man willing to back down.
Everyone got out on the fourth floor. Still arguing, the men went in one direction, Valentine and Rufus in the other. I happened to personally know the best golfer in the world, and it wasnt Jack Nicklaus or Tiger Woods, Rufus said. It was Titanic Thompson.
Valentine had heard of Thompson. He was a famous hustler who the character Nathan Detroit in Guys and Dolls was based on. I thought Thompsons games were cards and dice.
And golf, Rufus said. Ti was the best. He taught me all the angles. I can beat any golfer in the world, if the moneys right.
They reached the suite and Valentine stuck his plastic key into the door. He rarely stayed up late, and the long hours hed been keeping were taking their toll. The security light flashed green, and he pushed the door open.
Home sweet home, Rufus said, sailing his Stetson into the room as he went in. Ill tell you a little secret about Ti. He always practiced his golf shots in the shade. That way, when suckers played him, they assumed he didnt get out much.