Bret – Hallucinations

I need a drink. Rarely did I so much as think the words, it's even rarer that I actually say them, but today, I needed a drink.

So I thought Bart was a little crazy when he came over to my game insisting that I had to go and see something right then. No explanation; I just needed to get up and go with him. A little crazy became a lot crazy when he grabbed my sleeve and practically drug me through the casino. When he stopped and just pointed I was ready to ask him why he was reverting back to a five-year-old . . . and then I saw it. At that point, I couldn't blame Bart for his actions or his silence. Words left me too when I finally realized what Bart was pointing at. Pappy, my pappy, Beauregard Maverick, was . . . gambling.

If there is anything Pappy is against, it's gambling. It's a strange thing to hear about a man who's made most of his living at a poker table, but it's true. Anyone who really knows the game of poker will tell you that when it's played correctly, there is very little chance involved, and Pappy never relied on chance when it came to poker. What was even more astonishing than Pappy gambling, however, was how nonchalant he was about the whole thing. When we went over to the table he just sat there smiling and casually partaking in what he's always considered to be one of the most reckless pastimes available. Then he just as casually dismissed the whole thing as if he hadn't been doing anything that was starkly out of character for him. Just took his money and his new lady friend and walked away.

I watched him stroll away from the Faro table with Olivia and turned to my brother. "I . . . need . . . a drink." I'm sure the words were strangled but Bart understood me.

"Come to think of it, I could use one myself."

It was just as unusual for Bart to say that as it was for me, but then Pappy usually didn't gamble either. As crazy as the idea of the Maverick brothers drinking was, it seemed it fit in with the rest of the insanity we'd witnessed today and we made a beeline for the bar. Bart ordered us both a brandy and a cup of coffee, and I had to get through the brandy and half of the coffee before I felt composed enough to speak. "What . . . what's he doin', Bart?"

"How should I know? I'm not sure I ever understood him at all anymore."

How true that statement was. The trouble on the boat had been a nuisance but it was pretty normal Pappy trouble, but this was different. Pappy was different. We couldn't exactly handle Pappy the way we normally do when Pappy wasn't acting like Pappy. I thought about Bart's earlier question concerning the Apocalypse and snorted a laugh.

Bart looked at me, eyebrow raised. "If you've found something amusing in this please share."

"The Apocalypse," I said. "Pappy's gambling and we're here drinking; maybe it is the end of the world as we know it."

Bart finally cracked a smile. "Yeah, given his mood I wonder what he'd have to say about the brandy if he saw it?"

"Is he around? It might be a good way to gauge just what that girl has done to him," I grumbled. "He might just join us."

Despite my resolve earlier to remember Pappy was a grown man who could make his own decisions, I found myself wanting to yank him away from Miss Olivia Ames and lock him up until he started acting like my father again. If I didn't know any better I'd think she had bewitched him or something. For some reason, just at her request according to Pappy, that girl had gotten Pappy to do something he'd flatly refused to do his entire life? And gambling wasn't just something he stayed away from; it was something he'd spent countless hours warning us away from too.

How many times have I heard Pappy complain about Ben's "reckless" behavior when he decided to spend some time at a roulette wheel or a blackjack table? How many times had me and Bart been told about how dangerous gambling could be? There have been countless talks and lectures starting from the time we were old enough to understand what the word gamble meant, and he still had plenty to say on the topic. One of the more memorable ones came when he'd found out Bart had taken his first turn at a roulette wheel. Pappy had had an earful for Bart that time. And he'd had an earful for me because I hadn't done anything to stop him. He's always stayed away from gambling as staunchly as he's stayed away from alcohol. So how had Olivia gotten him to abandon that lifelong belief in just a couple of days?

"We're hallucinating," Bart declared after I voiced the question. "That's the only explanation."

"If only that were true. I keep hoping we'll wake up back in Little Bend and this will all be just a bad dream."

Bart grunted in agreement and had two more coffees brought over. Truthfully, I was tempted to get another brandy; Olivia must be doing something to all of us. I'm a lightweight though. Given all the other trouble we have dogging our heels, I decided that type of trouble was the last thing we needed, so I took the coffee.

There was no doubt that seeing Pappy at the Faro table had rattled both me and Bart, but I kept trying to remind myself that Pappy wasn't ignorant in the ways of the world. He wasn't some bumpkin fresh out of Texas who'd never seen the city or a casino before. Pappy had been well acquainted with New Orleans before me or Bart was ever born, and when it came to taking care of himself he could probably still run circles around us. Still, seeing him abandon a principle that he'd been so dogmatic about for so long was disconcerting.

I was almost finished with my coffee when Bart nudged my arm. "More trouble," he said softly.

I followed his line of sight once again and Lo and behold who should have found his way into this casino but our dear Mister Singer. I shook my head. I'd always thought of New Orleans as a decent sized town but I was starting to wonder. "Do you suppose he followed us?"

"I don't know. Shall we go find out?" Almost before I knew it, Bart had left the bar and was making his way over to the man, and I found myself following. I guess the man technically had just as much right to be here as we did, but I was curious to see if he actually was following us.

Since Bart had already had a go-round with him today, I was content to sort of hang back and let him do the talking, offering nothing but a smile to the cardsharp. I have to hand it to my brother; he kept the whole thing with Singer nice and friendly, on the surface anyway. Despite his conversational tone, when he told Singer to leave Pappy alone or deal with us, I knew he meant every single word. I couldn't help but smile as I watched him. No matter how he might've fussed about Pappy's fight that first night, I knew in forty years Bart would be just as ready to confront a cheater and throw a couple of punches as Pappy had been. Sometimes I wonder if those two realize how much alike they actually are.

After bidding Singer a good day, we headed back to our room. I looked around as we left the casino half-expecting to see Langley lurking about and ready to pounce on me. After all, Olivia and Singer were still dogging Pappy and Bart's step, intentionally or otherwise. Why shouldn't Langley follow me around? I didn't see him, thankfully, but I wasn't optimistic our encounter this morning had been our last, especially since Olivia had latched herself onto Pappy and didn't seem to have any plans to turn him loose anytime soon.

Bart claimed a headache as we went upstairs and once we were back in the stateroom, he went off to take a nap. His plan sounded good to me, so after he shut his door I went to my room hoping to relax a little myself. I stripped off my coat, vest, and tie before taking off my boots and stretching out on my own bed. What was it I'd said to Bart before about finding some trouble? We'd certainly found it today. The only problem was, it wasn't our trouble we'd found but Pappy's, and that just wasn't as much fun. Sighing, I closed my eyes and tried to forget about everything that had happened today. Was a nice quiet dinner too much to hope for?