Chappie 2: Da Big Game
"BULLS!"
Eighteen faces, all different colors, ages and backgrounds jerked up to stare at the door, stark fear etched on their faces.
"Hah, hah!!! You'se shoulda seen ya faces!!"
Snipeshooter grabbed a bedpost and ducked as caps, crumpled papes and whatever else was close at hand flew through the air. Still snickering he peeked around the corner and caught a cigar butt right in the face. Cheers erupted as Racetrack jumped up from his poker game, snatched the newsie cap from his dark curly hair, and took an elaborate bow. Fetching an ever-handy spare cigar from the inner pocket of his plaid vest, Race tucked it into the corner of his mouth with raised brows and a cocky grin.
"Soivs ya right, ya liddle bum." He laughed, as Snipeshooter rubbed his scowling face gingerly.
The laughs and comments slowly died down as all turned their attention to the game at hand. Most of the boys were standing or sitting in a circle around Race and Boots, and some were draped across top bunks, or hanging from the posts for a better view. No one had much, but the bets continued to grow as the game drew on.
"I'll uh…" Race shrugged and smiled. "I'll take two." He slapped two cards on the dirty floor, and scooped up his new hand.
"An da dealah takes one…" Boots murmured.
Race cocked one eyebrow and smirked around his unlit cigar.
"You'se ready ta end dis?" He smiled confidently.
"Just make yah bet, Race."
"Okay, okay!" Race shrugged. "'S your funeral…I'm up three."
"See and raise…five." Boots grinned slowly.
The room erupted in murmurs and whisperings as new bets were thrown around the room and several matches burst into flame. More than one was trying to calm his nerves with a quick nicotine fix.
"Hey, hey! Put dose out!" Blink pulled a hand from his pocket and snatched a cigarette from Bumlets mouth. "You know da rules…no smokin' inside. You'se want Kloppman to come in heah and break dis up?"
"Hey, shut 'cha mouths…let's jus finish dis, okay?" Race frowned around his cigar, adjusted his cap and dropped a nickel on the pile. "Spread limit Boots…lay 'em down."
"Sevens on tens…" Boots smirked and dropped his cards on the small pile of coins and cigarettes.
Race stared at the accusing numbers in disbelief, his mouth slowly dropping open.
The room was silent…
"Quads…kings ovah eight!"
Race shot his arms into the air and yelled in triumph. Groans and shouts of mixed emotions filled the boarding room as bets were paid and Race collected his pot.
"Someday Racetrack…someday…" Boots shook his head.
'Hey, where's Jack tonight?" Someone shot across the room as the guys prepared for sleep in their various ways.
"He's ovah at Davies tonight…" Mush grinned. "Or should I say, ovah at Sarah's." His smirk turned to a frown. "…Didn't he say he was gonna play in da game tonight?…Hey Race, you don't think somethin' happe…"
"Awww, Jack's fine." Race frowned, dismissing Mush with a wave of his hand. "Jack can take care of hiself."
With a shrug Mush pulled himself onto his bunk.
"Sure…Jack's okay." Race whispered as he unlaced his shoes and swung his legs onto his own bed. Staring at the bed slats above him, he couldn't keep the thought from rolling through his tired mind, like smoke on a misty morning.
Jack had promised a game tonight at ten…it was almost one.
Thanks Knots for my first review!!! I hope you like what comes next... :o)
R&R people!!!
-Italian-Goil