The Highest Bidder

An old and obsolete name for hold'em, Curly idly reflected, was Hold Me Darling. It didn't really have much to do with anything, except that they were playing hold'em. Curly didn't get to play much draw poker and lowball, his road games.

Some of the same players were still in the game, but they had graduated to hold'em, and no longer played in the homes of players. Instead, they played at the local fraternal organization, the Beneficent and Protecting Order of Elands, or "the beepoes," as Foggy Freddy liked to call the place. The clubroom had its own standard hold'em tables, three of them, and sometimes all were full on Friday and Saturday nights. The club also employed two dealers, bringing in a third, and sometimes a fourth, when necessary. The dealers got paid from a portion of the rake that came out of every hand, and of course kept their own tips.

On this Monday night, there was one 10-handed game. The game had gotten considerably larger than the home games had been. For this no-limit game with $5 and $10 blinds, the minimum buy-in was $200, although most participants started with at least 10 times that. Curly had started with $5,000, wanting to make sure to have enough to cover Frenchy and Freddy, who each had more than $4,000. He'd won several good hands and built up to $10,000. Ice Cream Hank had more than $10,000. Curly knew that it was pretty unlikely he'd use many of his own chips against Hank, since something over $9,000 of the stack had a spike driven through it. Those chips weren't likely to go into a pot with Hank holding anything less than the Brass Brazilians.

R.C. had about $3,100, and opened the pot for the minimum.

Rather Large Pete called. Curly didn't like that Pete was tolerated in the game. One or two of the regulars knew about Pete's deck-manipulation capabilities, but they figured they were protected by the presence of a house dealer. But Curly knew that Pete was an all-purpose thief. He would do business with another player, perhaps involving signals and raising for each other – and then likely give his "partner" a short count of the profits at the end of the night. It wouldn't be so bad if Pete played poorly and threw off enough to offset his chicanery, but his was basically a tight, solid game, and he was capable of winning without cheating – albeit not enough to suit his philistine wants. Pete had bought in to the game for $2,000 and had built that up to about $3,000.

Hank raised $45. This pot-sized raise meant a good start for Hank, so Curly had no trouble dumping his pocket nines. Hank had either a pocket pair bigger than Curly's or A-K. Curly's hand was either dominated or a coin flip, and there was no telling what R.C. and Pete had. R.C. was tricky and quite capable of limping with a big hand. Pete also slow-played lots of hands, wanting to trap the big money later on in the hand. And, like many thieves forced to play on the square, he liked to have more of a sure thing, as defined by the board, than gamble before the flop.

Everyone else, including the blinds, folded. R.C. and Pete both called.

The dealer was new, not one of the regulars. Jonesy, who had never been rehired since being laid off as an air traffic controller during the crisis of the '70s, was also on. Jonesy had played for years in the weekly home game, but the stakes got too high for him and his money ran out, so he had worked as a dealer off and on. On nights with only one game, the two dealers would alternate each half-hour behind the box. With two games, a relief dealer would be called in who would deal on their breaks. Forty-five minutes on and 15 minutes for breaks provided six hours of work in an eight-hour shift for each regular dealer, and gave the relief dealer the equivalent of half a shift. Three regulars and a relief were usually scheduled for weekends. This was the first time Curly had seen this dealer, Blacky – a name for someone who had likely been around cardrooms all of his life. He handled the deck as if he had.

Blacky put out the flop: K 2 2. R.C. checked. Pete checked. Hank bet $200, $20 more than the size of the pot. He had hit the flop hard, Curly was sure: either A-K or a pair of kings. There would be no deuce in his hand, as he would not have raised preflop with any hand containing a deuce. Curly's pocket pair would just have gotten him into trouble – not a lot of trouble, because he'd be dumping the cards now. Still, he had saved $55.

R.C. called. Hmm. R.C. must have a deuce or a king.

Pete called. Double hmm. What could Pete have? A-K? Surely, he must realize that at best he's tied, and at worst has few outs. A pocket pair would be way behind at this point.

It was a big pot, $780. The dealer put out the Q on the turn. R.C. thought for a moment, and then checked.

Pete checked.

Hank bet $500. Curly dismissed A-K. Hank had either pocket kings or pocket queens, and based on the betting so far, Curly leaned strongly in the direction of kings.

R.C. contemplated again, and again called. What was going on? Did he have a deuce? Did he have a queen or king and was totally oblivious to what was going on?

Pete now pulled the trigger. He raised $1,000, more than half of his remaining stack going into the pot. If Curly's reasoning was right about Hank, Pete must have the pocket queens. He thought Pete was about to get a big surprise.

Curly was right. Hank put his entire stack in the pot. Of course, it was just symbolic, and he knew it. R.C. had about $2,300 left and Pete had less than $1,500.

R.C. called. Curly was thoroughly confused. All of the cards that would keep him in this far with this board seemed to be among the downcards of his opponents. Could he have played K-2 or Q-2?

The dealer measured up the main pot, created a small side pot between R.C. and Hank, and pushed most of Hank's chips back to him.

Blacky put the river card out, the A. That didn't seem to be a card that could help anyone, based on the betting.

"Show them down, gentlemen," said Blacky.

Hank quickly turned over his pocket kings.

"Get it fixed!" snarled Rather Large Pete, as he turned over pocket aces. Huh? How could he have played the hand the way he did unless … unless … ? Aha. He knew the ace was coming, which means he's in league with this dealer.

R.C. was sitting calmly, his downcards still in front of him, protected by an old silver dollar. "Don't I get to show my cards?"

"Sure," laughed Pete. "Watcha got?"

Very, very slowly, R.C. turned over pocket deuces.

Blacky pushed him the $9,000 main pot and the $200-plus side pot, looking not entirely pleased.

Rather Large Pete was glaring at the dealer. That clinched it for Curly. The hand had been set up. But was Blacky working with R.C.? Nah, that was impossible. R.C. was a tricky player, but he was also honest. He had initially pressed for having Pete barred, but had relented when Jonesy assured him that Pete would not be able to do anything without ever handling the deck.

And with that, Blacky's down ended. The dealer got up, taking his dealer tray with him, and Jonesy sat down behind the box, bringing in his own tray and a new plastic deck. Blacky unlocked the small office that served as cashier's cage and storage, and put his tray inside. He closed and locked the door, and headed for the bathroom. At about that moment Pete also got up, apparently having his own need for the facilities. Curly suspected he would be having words with Blacky. Soon, Curly heard Pete's angry snarl, but the closed door prevented anything from being heard.

Pete came out and sat down again. He bought $1,000 in chips from Jonesy's tray.

Blacky was still in the bathroom. Curly had an idea. His blind was the next hand. "Deal me out a few rounds, Jonesy." Curly entered the bathroom. No one was immediately visible, but he saw a pair of dress shoes under a stall door. Curly walked to a sink.

"How much did he pay you?" he asked quietly.

"You talking to me?" floated out of the stall.

"No one else in here. You're pretty good with that deck."

There was silence for a moment. "You made me, huh?"

"What happened? Did the wrong guy get the big hand?"

"No, it was a drop-in. Complete accident."

"Did Pete believe you?"

"Well, it took a little convincing, but I believe he did."

"And he'll be completely convinced if you turn that $3,000 loss into a win, right?"

"Uh-huh."

"You know, that ace on the last card looked mighty suspicious."

"I know, but it had to come down in such a way that Hank would be convinced he had the best hand and put all his chips in. He would have been worried if the ace came out earlier. This way he was sure that Pete had just made queens full."

"Uh-huh. And nobody figured R.C. for quads. He played it sneaky all the way."

"Yep. And it wouldn't happen again in a million years."

"So, how much did Pete pay you?"

"Five hundred."

"Five hundred? Why, that cheapskate! With your help, he should make $10,000 in this game. How's the next one supposed to come down?"

"Quads against quads, and he'll make his on the river, to keep the sucker in. The sucker's gonna flop quads."

"And who's he gonna take out?"

"Whoever has the biggest stack."

"You realize you're not going to be able to work here anymore."

A sigh escaped from the stall. "I know. Too bad. The pay sucks, but the tips are good."

"Uh-huh. But that extra $500 will help ease the pain of finding another job."

Curly had a few more words to say, hurriedly, because he didn't want to be gone from the table too long.

Curly returned to the table in time to see Pete lose $500 to Foggy Freddy, who filled up on the river against the A-Q flush Pete made on the turn.

Ice Cream Hank had apparently got back some of the $3,000 on the big pot he had lost, and at the expense of the man who had beaten him. R.C. was down to about $7,500 and Hank was back up to about $8,500. Curly's stack was the biggest.

Pete stood up and pulled a huge wad of bills from his tight-fitting pants. The pants, though voluminous, were too tight, apparently because Pete didn't realize that he could no longer fit into the clothes he'd worn in the '80s. "Gimme some chips!" he growled.

Blacky, out of the bathroom, took the bills and carefully counted them. "Ten thousand, is that right?"

"Yeah. Make $6,000 pink." Those were the $1,000 chips.

Blacky went to the locked room to get the chips and retrieve his dealer's tray. He came back with two racks of chips, which Pete stacked neatly in front of him. Blacky tapped Jonesy on the shoulder. Jonesy got up, Blacky slid his tray in, and sat down to deal.

"The hand" came about 25 minutes into Blacky's down. It was Curly's button, and Pete opened for $100. That was a little large, but it could be easily attributed to steaming from several losses. Everyone folded to Curly, who called.

Blacky put out the flop, 8 4 4.

Pete bet $300. This was not Pete's normal style. Usually, he was less aggressive until he was sure he had the nuts, but, again, anyone would attribute it to being upset over the bad beats he had been experiencing.

Curly raised the pot, another $815. Pete called. The pot was at $2,445.

The turn was the 6.

"Think ya got somethin', huh kid?" sneered Pete, as he slid $2,500 into the pot.

"Yeah, I do. No use futzing around. Let's put 'em all in." He shoved the rest of what had been more than $10,000 into the pot.

Now, Pete paused for a second. Ha, thought Curly. He's got to make it look plausible. He would hesitate just a moment with eights full, but of course a call looked perfectly natural. Pete put in the rest of his chips. Blacky counted down the stacks, and returned about $100 to Curly.

The river was the 8.

Curly did not turn over his cards, even though it was his turn to do so, having been the last bettor.

Pete sat silently for a moment, apparently realizing that his usual "Get it fixed!" might seem out of place. "I think I've got a winner." He turned over the 8 8.

"Really. Oh, dear." Curly turned over the 7 5, making a straight flush on the turn. He had not had the four fours Pete thought he had.

Curly had won all of Pete's bankroll. And it was all Pete's money, nothing he had illegitimately won from anyone else at the table, due to the drop-in quads from earlier and a few other losses. And Pete could never complain about a crooked deal, because that's what he thought he had himself arranged.

Blacky's down ended, and he again locked his tray in the office and headed for the bathroom. Pete stormed in after him. Curly strode over to the bathroom, slid the door slightly ajar, and stood just outside, the better to hear what was said inside.

Pete struggled to keep his angry snarl low. "Hey, what do you mean, doubling me off? I gave you $500."

"Oh, yeah. Here's your $500 back. He gave me $2,000."

Editor's note: Michael Wiesenberg's The Official Dictionary of Poker is the ultimate authority on the language of cardrooms.