He Was Her Man by Sarah Shankman Page B

“Here’s how it goes. You and I’ll take turns. Slip a card off the top of the deck, turn it face up. The first one who turns over a picture card loses. Now, you don’t have to turn every card. You can put it aside, face down, if you feel like it might be a picture card, turn over the next one. Or the one after that. Skip as many as you want. Got it?”
    “The first picture card turned loses the bet? That’s all there is to it?” said Slim.
    “That’s it. Why don’t you go ahead?”
    “Ladies first.”
    “No, no, I insist.”
    Slim reached for the top card, and without hesitating a moment, flipped it. Three of diamonds.
    Mickey carefully lifted a card, just high enough that Sam could see she peeked. Slim had seen her, too, for Sam caught his little start of surprise. Mickey turned the card over. The ace of spades.
    Slim drew the 10 of clubs.
    Mickey peeked again. Sam turned to see if the mustachioed man had seen the cheat. He raised and lowered his eyelids like blinds. He’d seen, all right. Mickey turned the six of hearts.
    Slim hesitated on the next one, slid it aside. Next up was the eight of diamonds.
    “Good call, my man,” said Sam under her breath. Her natural inclination was to pull for the lady, but if the lady was a cheat.…
    The next card, Mickey peeked again, then slid the card over, face down. Then she picked another, peeked, and flipped the five of clubs.
    Slim reached over and turned the card she’d passed on. There it was. The jack of diamonds wearing a handsome face.
    “You lose!” Mickey crowed.
    Slim was stunned. “What do you mean, me ?” His voice rose. “ You cheated. You peeked every time. You saw that was a picture, and you passed on it.”
    “That’s right.” Mickey’s smile was a killer. “And you turned it over. You turned the first picture card. Sugar Baby wins. You lose.”
    Slim fell back in his seat. “Well, fuck me and the horse I rode in on.”
    A bell sounded in Sam’s head. Something about a horse. The key to who the black man was something about a horse.
    Slim was laughing now. He was halfway between astonishment and indignation. But he was still a gentleman, standing as Mickey stood, checked her watch, gathered the cards, slipped the two hundred dollars and the cards into her bag, and extended her hand. “Thanks so much for the drink, Slim. It’s been a pleasure doing business with you, and I hate to win and run, but now if you’ll excuse me.”
    Sam had it. She whirled toward the black man, who grinned, and she caught a glimpse of a gold star embedded in one of his two front teeth. That cinched it. She was right, by God!
    He was Early Trulove, sure as shooting, an old jail-house buddy of Harry’s partner, Lavert. She’d never really met him, hadn’t gotten close enough to shake hands. It had been a year or so ago, she and Harry and Lavert had been out at the track in New Orleans, and Lavert had pointed out Early as he had walked a filly into the paddock. Early had called something to Lavert and grinned—and Sam had commented then on the flash of gold. Early’s lucky star, Lavert had said. Wards off the silver bullets. Sam had pressed him for details, and Lavert had said Early was working as a groom for Lavert’s former employer, Joey the Horse.
    She remembered the day and the man because of the filly Early had been walking. She even remembered the filly’s name, Lush Life. Lavert had said, with an insider’s wink, Bet her to win. They did, and then in the stretch she’d run herself to death. Died, they said, of a heart attack. But she broke a leg going down, and then kept foundering, struggling to rise again. It was a hideous sight, and Sam hadn’t been back to the track since.
    She was about to speak to Early, call him by name, when he dropped a 20 on the bar and melted away.
    That was it. Call it a night, Sammy. You’re running on your rims. She stood, slipped a bill in the crystal snifter for the singer, who gave her a big grin, then wove her