Hand You're Dealt

chapter oneIt had been almost a year since Dad died in that hospital bed from a stroke. He didn't get much exercise and wasn't the kind of father who could teach you sports -- not unless you counted playing cards that way. But he taught me lots of other stuff and was always myrealbest friend.Dad's the one who first called me "Huck." It started my sophomore year in high school. I thought I was really something at poker and would challenge him every chance I'd get. I'd clean up against my friends in nickel-and-dime games. But every week Dad would beat me out of my allowance, and I'd have to do double chores to get paid again.Mom finally threw a fit and laid down the law."No more gambling in this house," she ordered. "If you two wanna keep playing, you'll play for fun.""How the hell is it gambling when it's all my money?" Dad tried to hook her.But she wouldn't bite."No slippin' back into old ways, or else," she warned him.Dad was the best poker player in Caldwell. He'd won the tournament at Saint Bart's rec center three years running, and that makes you somebody in a town that's been smacked sideways like this one. But Dad had lost his share of money at cards too, way back when I was a little kid. So he'd made a deal with Mom that he'd just play tournaments and wouldn't risk a dollar more than the entry fee."That's why you don't see me making any side bets at Saint Bart's, son," he'd tell me. "I'd drop ten dollars and lose two hundred more tryin' to get it back. But once I got my mind off my wallet, I became a better tournament player, more focused. Now your mother's got her eye on the both of us. She doesn't want you bleeding your buddies dry for loose change, and neither do I. Besides, you'll learn more goin' up against me for just chips, especially 'bout how to lose."It's crazy to think of a church holding a poker tournament. But Father Dineros has been doing it for five years straight now, ever since that big brushfire hopped the main road, burning down close to forty houses and the auto parts factory that never got rebuilt. People come from as far as six townships over to play, and it usually takes two whole weekends to finish. Most everybody in Caldwell treats it like a celebration, and all the stores, diners, motels, and gas stations get a lot more business.It costs a hundred and fifty dollars to enter, and the winner gets to wear the silver watch that Father Dineros had on when he got blessed by the Pope in Rome for the whole year. Then, the next year, the watch gets passed on to the new champion.But therealreason so many people are hyped to play at Saint Bart's is because Father Dineros convinced a Las Vegas casino into giving the winner a free seat in its biggest poker tournament -- one with a twelve-million-dollar pot to the winner.But that's just free publicity for the casino, because I know they don't really care a thing about the people in Caldwell."Ourtournament's more sanctified than bingo. There's no cash prize, and every penny goes to keep the recreation center open. That's charity," Father Dineros would say. "As for the Las Vegas connection -- I believeSin Cityowes this town something back."From Caldwell, it's just a ninety-minute drive upI-15 to Vegas, where poker's almost a religion. And after all those people here lost their homes and jobs, lots of them took their chances trying to get even in the casinos. Only most of them just dug a deeper hole for themselves. That was something Dad had a real soft spot for, and he'd give some of those people their haircuts for free.A few years back, Father Dineros preached a fire-filled sermon about how people here needed to pull together. Then, at the next community board meeting, nearly everybody pledged their word that if they ever won the big Vegas tournament, half the money would go to the town, to get split up even between every family."YoVolponi, Paul is the author of 'Hand You're Dealt', published 2008 under ISBN 9781416939894 and ISBN 141693989X.