Memories of Midnight

Victor Korontzis could not believe his luck. At the end of the evening he had won almost two thousand dollars. It was like a miracle.

"You guys were sure lucky," Marvin Seymour grumbled.

"I’ll say," Breslauer agreed. "How about giving us another chance tomorrow?"

"I’ll let you know," Rizzoli said.

When they had gone, Korontzis exclaimed, "I can’t believe it. Two thousand dollars!"

Rizzoli laughed. "That’s chicken feed. I told you. Otto is one of the slickest mechanics in the business. Those guys are dying to get another crack at us. Are you interested?"

"You bet." There was a broad grin on Korontzis’s face. "I think I just made a joke."

The following night, Victor Korontzis won three thousand dollars.

"It’s fantastic!" he told Rizzoli. "Don’t they suspect anything?"

"Of course not. I’ll bet you they ask us to raise the stakes tomorrow. They think they’re going to win their money back. Are you in?"

"Sure, Tony. I’m in."

As they were sitting down to play, Sal Prizzi said, "You know, we’re the big losers so far. How about up-ping the stakes?"

Tony Rizzoli looked over at Korontzis and winked.

"It’s all right with me," Rizzoli said. "How about you fellows?"

They all nodded agreement.

Otto Dalton set up piles of chips. "The whites are fifty dollars, the blues are a hundred, reds five hundred, blacks a thousand."

Victor Korontzis looked at Rizzoli uneasily. He had not planned on the stakes being so high.

Rizzoli nodded reassuringly.

The game began.

Nothing changed. Victor Korontzis’s hands were magic. Whatever cards he held beat the others. Tony Rizzoli was also winning, but not as much.

"Fucking cards!" Prizzi grumbled. "Let’s change decks."

Otto Dalton obligingly produced a fresh deck.

Korontzis looked over at Tony Rizzoli and smiled. He knew that nothing was going to change their luck.

At midnight they had sandwiches sent up. The players took a fifteen-minute break.

Tony Rizzoli took Korontzis aside. "I told Otto to chum them a little," he whispered.

"I don’t understand."

"Let them win a few hands. If they keep losing all the time, they’ll get discouraged and quit."

"Oh, I see. That’s very smart."

"When they think they’re hot, we’ll raise the stakes again and really nail them big."

Victor Korontzis was hesitant. "I’ve already won so much money, Tony. Don’t you think maybe we should quit while we’re…?"

Tony Rizzoli looked him in the eye and said, "Victor, how would you like to leave here tonight with fifty thousand dollars in your pocket?"

When the game resumed, Breslauer, Prizzi, and Seymour began to win. Korontzis’s hands were still good, but the others were better.

Otto Dalton is a genius, Korontzis thought. He had been watching him deal, and had not been able to detect one false move.

As the play went on, Victor Korontzis kept losing. He was not concerned. In a few minutes, when they had – what was the word? – chummed the others, he and Rizzoli and Dalton would move in for the kill.

Sal Prizzi was gloating. "Well," he said, "it looks like you fellows have cooled off."

Tony Rizzoli shook his head ruefully. "Yes, it sure does, doesn’t it?" He gave Korontzis a knowing look.

"Your luck couldn’t go on forever," Marvin Seymour said.

Perry Breslauer spoke up. "What do you say we increase the stakes again, and give us a real crack at you?"

Tony Rizzoli pretended to consider it. "I don’t know," he said thoughtfully. He turned to Victor Korontzis. "What do you think, Victor?"

How would you like to leave here tonight with fifty thousand dollars in your pocket? I’ll be able to buy a house, and a new car. I can take the family on vacations…Korontzis was almost trembling with excitement. He smiled. "Why not?"

"All right," Sal Prizzi said. "We’ll play table stakes. The sky’s the limit."

They were playing five-card draw. The cards were dealt.

"It’s my ante," Breslauer said. "Let’s open for five thousand dollars."

Each player put in his ante.

Victor Korontzis was dealt two queens. He drew three cards, and one of them was another queen.

Rizzoli looked at his hand and said, "Up a thousand."

Marvin Seymour studied his hand. "I’ll call, and raise you two thousand."

Otto Dalton threw in his cards. "Too rich for my blood."

Sal Prizzi said, "I’ll call."

The pot went to Marvin Seymour’s straight.

In the next hand, Victor Korontzis was dealt an eight, nine, ten, and jack of hearts. One card away from a straight flush!

"I’ll call for a thousand dollars," Dalton said.

"I’ll call, and raise you a thousand."

Sal Prizzi said, "Let’s bump it another thousand."

It was Korontzis’s turn. He was sure that a straight flush would beat whatever the others were holding. He was only one card away.

"I call." He drew a card, and put it facedown, not daring to look at it.

Breslauer laid his hand down. "A pair of fours and a pair of tens."

Prizzi put his hand down. "Three sevens."

They turned to look at Victor Korontzis. He took a deep breath, and picked up his hole card. It was black. "Busted," he said. He threw his hand in.

The pots kept growing larger.

Victor Korontzis’s pile of chips had shrunk to almost nothing. He looked over at Tony Rizzoli, concerned.

Rizzoli smiled reassuringly, a smile that said, There’s nothing to worry about.