The Music of Chance by Paul Auster Page A

that strategy started to backfire on him. Pozzi had him figured out, and in the end it was almost as though he could read Nashe’s mind, as though he were sitting inside his head and watching him think. This encouraged Nashe, since he wanted Pozzi to be good, but it was a disturbing sensation for all that, and the unpleasantness of it lingered for some time afterward. He began to play too conservatively, relying on caution at every turn, and from then on Pozzi took control of the game, bluffing and manipulating him almost at will. The kid did not gloat, however. He played with dead seriousness, showing no trace of his customary sarcasm and humor. It was not until Nashe called it quits that he seemed to return to himself—suddenly leaning back in his chair and breaking into a broad, satisfied smile.
    “Not bad, kid,” Nashe said. “You beat the pants off me.”
    “I told you,” Pozzi said. “I don’t fuck around when it comes to poker. Nine times out of ten, I’m going to come out on top. It’s like a law of nature.”
    “Let’s just hope that tomorrow is one of those nine times.”
    “Don’t worry, I’m going to kill those suckers. I guarantee it. They’re not half as good as you are, and you saw what I just did to you.”
    “Total destruction.”
    “That’s right. It was a nuclear holocaust in here. A goddamn Hiroshima.”
    “Are you willing to shake on the deal we made in the car?”
    “A fifty-fifty split? Yeah, I’m willing to do that.”
    “Minus the initial ten thousand, of course.”
    “Minus the ten grand. But there’s still the other stuff to consider.”
    “What other stuff?”
    “The hotel. The food. The clothes you bought for me yesterday.”
    “Don’t worry about it. Those things are write-offs, what you might call a normal business expense.”
    “Shit. You don’t have to do that.”
    “I don’t have to do anything. But I did it, didn’t I? It’s my present to you, Jack, and we’ll leave it at that. If you want to, you can think of it as a bonus for getting me in on the action.”
    “A finder’s fee.”
    “Exactly. A commission for services rendered. Now all you have to do is pick up the phone and see if Laurel and Hardy are still expecting you. We wouldn’t want to go there for nothing. And make sure they give you good directions. It wouldn’t be nice to show up late.”
    “I’d better mention that you’re coming with me. Just so they know what to expect.”
    “Tell them your car is in the shop for repairs and you’re getting a ride with a friend.”
    “I’ll tell them you’re my brother.”
    “Let’s not exaggerate.”
    “Sure, I’ll tell them you’re my brother. That way they won’t ask any questions.”
    “All right, tell them whatever you want. Just don’t make it too complicated. You don’t want to start off with your foot in your mouth.”
    “Don’t worry, pal, you can trust me. I’m the Jackpot Kid, remember? It doesn’t matter what I say. As long as I’m the one who says it, everything is going to turn out right.”
    They set off for the town of Ockham at one thirty the following afternoon. The game was not scheduled to begin until dark, but Flower and Stone were expecting them at four. “It’s like they can’t do enough for us,” Pozzi said. “First they’re going to give us tea. Then we get a tour of the house. And before we sit down to play cards, we’re all going to have dinner. How do you like that? Tea! I can’t fucking believe it.”
    “There’s a first time for everything,” Nashe said. “Just remember to behave yourself. No slurping. And when they ask you how many lumps of sugar you want, just say one.”
    “They might be jerks, those two, but their heart seems to be in the right place. If I wasn’t such a greedy son of a bitch, I’d almost begin to feel sorry for them.”
    “You’re the last person I’d expect to feel sorry for a couple of millionaires.”
    “Well, you know what I mean. First they wine and dine