25. Gold
There were many shady clubs in New York, even in 1872. One was called The Sherry Shack, a direct reference to their main export: alcohol. A few Monstrumologists were there for one's Magic 30, and since Pellinore barely knew the man and didn't really care for the heavy drinking and prostitutes, he wanted to sneak away. First, however, he had to find John. He scoured the building, and eventually, he found his way down to a basement, where cigar smoke hung heavy in the air and tired looking men sipped whiskey directly from bottles. There were several game tables set up. However, most of the activity seemed to centered towards the back of the room. Curious, Pellinore walked over and shoved himself through the cheering crowd. At the center of them was a man dealing out cards, a huge stack of coins, and John Chanler.
"John, what are you doing?!" Pellinore cried.
"Ah, Pell! C'mere!"
John yanked Pellinore to the table and forced him into a chair, then turned back to the game. Set up in front of him were two rows of five cards, the top row turned over.
"Hmm..." John pushed a green card out of the bottom row. "Draw."
The dealer nodded and took the card, replacing it with a white one.
"Yes! Two pairs!" John laughed.
"What the devil are you doing?"
"Gambling, Pellie-poo!"
"What!?" He started to panic. " John, how much money did you lose?!"
"Well... I started off with 30 gold coins..."
"Oh, lovely. I bet you're close to broke now!"
"Actually, now I have 2,506."
Pellinore's face flushed. "...You're joking."
"Nope! It took me a few hours, but I managed."
The dealer had flipped over the top row of cards.
"One pair vs. two. 15 coins to Chanler."
John whooped, and the man pushed over a stack of ten coins.
"John has made his way back to 20 wins!" Cried a woman at the table. "How much are you betting next?"
"Just 5." John said. He turned back to Pellinore. "You always bet a small set amount in this. More winnings that way."
"How does this game even work?" Pellinore asked.
"Well, you get yourself two rows of 5 cards. One is yours, and one is the dealer's. Each round starts with you betting some coins, then you decide which cards to keep and which to get rid of. The goal is to get at least one pair- that gets you 10 coins, but you can always end up with two- 15, or a set of three-20, a set of four-30, or set of five- that gets you 16 times the amount you bet. When you have a set of three and a pair, that's a full house. Those get you 16 times the amount you bet. If you have no pairs whatsoever, it's junk, and unless you draw a few cards and end up with at least a pair, you're fucked. You compare the cards you got with the dealers- if he has a better set, then you lose whatever amount you bet. If you have the better set, you win, and get the amount that fits your set. The cards are also ranked by color: Yellow's the highest, then peach, then green, then orange, then red, then white."
John drew a card, ending up with two pairs. The dealer then flipped his own over- he had a set of three.
"Chanler loses five, and a win."
John cursed under his breath.
"How is a set of three better than two pairs?" Pellinore asked.
"Because life is shit, Pell."
The dealer set out 10 new cards.
"Pell, can you cover for me? I have to go to the bathroom."
"I... what?! I barely get this game! Besides, I don't like gambling-"
"Oh shut your trap, it'll only be for a few minutes."
John got up and stretched, then walked away, whistling casually.
Pellinore sat awkwardly, before the woman waved him on.
He looked at her quizzically. "So... how does one lose a win?"
The woman showed him a chart. "Each time you win, you get a tally. But each time you lose, you lose that tally. Right now John has 19. But if you lose all your wins, you lose all your money. So watch yourself."
Pellinore nodded and stared at the cards in front of him. He had a set of three yellow. He drew the mismatched two, and just ended up with another pair of two different colored cards. He sighed. Gambling was a mess of pointlessness.
"How much you bettin'?"
"5." Pellinore said, taking John's advice.
The dealer snorted. "You a wimp too, eh?"
He then flipped over his own cards. He had one pair.
"30 to Pell."
Before Pellinore could react, 30 more coins were put in front of him. Plus the five he still had, the coins currently amounted to 2,546. He felt a sense of accomplishment.
For several minutes, Pell was on top of the world. He had a bunch of drunkards and prostitutes cheering him on- one even sat herself on his lap. He was on one hell of a winning streak, he hadn't lost one deal. Everyone was impressed by this but the dealer, who was convinced the young man was cheating.
Finally, John came back, taking back his own seat and winking at the woman sitting with Pell.
"What took you so long?" Pellinore asked as he drew three cards.
"Oh, nothing... well, actually a lot. I tried the bathroom on the first floor but the toilet flushed by itself. By itself, I swear it! So I went to the one on the second floor, and wouldn't you know it, there was a man getting head by the head! I told them 'Get a room!' and the man replied, 'This is a room!'. He kind of had me beat there, so I had to go back down to the haunted bathroom. Luckily, the toilet didn't try any of it's tomfoolery this time. I guess my urine tamed it."
"...John, you're drunk."
"Pellinore, you're sober!"
Pellinore won the deal.
"That's 45 wins for Pell!" The woman counting wins cried. "Total amount of 2,905."
John whipped his head around, shocked.
"How did you get so many wins?!"
"I honestly don't know, I guess I'm just lucky."
"Luckiest man in the place!" The prostitute said, wrapping her arms around him.
"Heh, yes..." Pell said, gently shoving them away.
John groaned. "You can't win that many times! The dealer will think you're cheating!"
"So?"
"So? SO?! Pellinore, I may not be the sharpest man, but even I know that's trouble. In a shady place like this, we could get murdered quick, and it would take the police weeks to find our bodies! And damn, could you imagine how my dear old mother would react to hearing her little Johnny boy was shot clean through the head and dumped on top of slum shit and garbage? Why, she'd turn into Mary Todd Lincoln within a day!"
"Or she'd just get melancholy. Let's be realistic here, John. They aren't going to murder us, because I am not cheating. They have no proof of it, anyway!"
"Oh, trust me, they don't care about that. Let's go."
John pulled out a bag and frantically started to push coins into it, while everyone stared at him in puzzlement.
"What are you doing?" Asked the prostitute in Pellinore's lap. "You can do a few more hands."
"Yes, she's right. You have 45 wins, you're clear for whatever comes your way!" Agreed a random man.
"But I'd like to cut off my luck before it becomes short itself." John grunted as he tried to lift the bag. "Pell, help me with this. It weighs half a ton."
A disappointed Pellinore urged the prostitute off of him, then picked up one end of the bag. John was right, it was extremely heavy.
"Where d'ya think you're going!?" The dealer asked.
"Home, preferably." John answered.
The man pulled out a gun.
Everyone jumped back, a few running upstairs. Pellinore heard nothing but his pounding heart.
"You can leave. But not with the money. You two think you're so smart. You been cheatin' all night! That's the only way you could get so much money. Johnny was smart, he lost a few rounds on purpose. But Pell, you slipped up. You couldn't take the thought of losin', so you went on a streak!"
"We-"
The man fired a shot into the air. "Put down the money!"
Pellinore jumped and almost put down the bag, but John had other plans. The sudden burst of adrenaline granted him the strength to carry the bag by himself, so he grabbed it and ran, pulling a shocked Pellinore with him. The man pursued.
They dodged past the upstairs patrons; a few Monstrumologists gave them looks, and a few women giggled at the sight of two cute young men taking money from a gun wielding maniac.
Outside, many people were walking about even at that hour, so the boys were able to lose the man in the crowd. They walked another block before putting down the money. And as all people who evade death do, they laughed hysterically for a solid minute, only dying down when they started to get strange looks from nearby people.
"So..." John panted.
"So..." Pellinore breathed.
"We sure pissed on that guy, didn't we?"
Pellinore chuckled. "Yes. He probably has a stress ulcer now."
"Wait till his boss hears he had all his money stolen by a couple of 'cheating' brats!"
"HE'LL probably get murdered and dumped in the garbage of the slums!"
John nodded. "I'm going to go hail us a coach. Can you defend the gold?"
"With my life!" Pellinore grinned.
The two boys saluted each other, and John walked to the edge of the sidewalk.
Pellinore looked up at the cloudy sky, lazy daydreaming thoughts filling his head.
A small jingle yanked him back to reality. He looked down to see several dirty children trying to take the bag! They were making comical expressions of strain as they attempted to lift it.
"Hey!" Pellinore cried.
Instead of looking up, the children just worked faster. Before Pellinore could make a move, they had to bag and were running away with it. One child stayed and kicked Pellinore in the shin before going after the others, not out of contempt so much as to keep him from coming after them.
Pellinore cried out and grabbed his leg, stumbling back over to John, who had heard nothing of the excursion.
"Can you believe it, Pell!? We're rich!"
"Some street rats just took all our gold, John!"
"...We're poor!"
"What are we going to do?!"
"I guess we'll let them... I mean, they could spend it more reasonably than I would. You know; on food, clothing, shelter... I was going to use it to purchase a solid gold steam ship, a white tiger, and for you, Muriel Barnes' heart."
Pellinore rolled his eyes. "We're already in a relationship, John."
"Doesn't mean you have her heart! But I can get it for you, even without money. Maybe put it in a jar and stick it on your desk?"
Pellinore kicked his friend in the most appropriate place at the time- his shin.