Free The Wild Card by Mark Joseph

or coked up or any shit like that?”
    â€œI’m on the wagon. I’m being a good boy.”
    â€œWhy d’you want to go to Reno?”
    â€œWhat’s it to you? I live there.”
    She took the money and packed it away in her jeans. “I’m gonna gas up, and we’ll be in Reno by two in the morning, about three and a half hours from now. I’m just a driver, not a shrink or a priest. You can talk, but I can’t say as I’ll listen.”

11
    â€œIt’s eleven o’clock and all is not well,” Nelson said. “We’ve been stiffed.”
    â€œNo shit,” Dean hollered. “Maybe this is your big surprise, Nelson. Maybe you never talked to him at all.”
    Nelson pulled a firecracker from his pocket, lit it, and threw it across the table at Dean. Bang!
    â€œWhat the hell? Watch it.”
    â€œI talked to him three times,” Nelson said heatedly. “I made the airline reservation and paid for the ticket myself.”
    â€œYou throw another firecracker at me, Nelson, and I’ll toss your skinny ass right out the window.”
    â€œYeah, macho man? Remember what happened the last time you tried to fuck with me?”
    â€œShit,” Dean cursed and then laughed a big laugh that shook his beard and lit up his eyes. “A little tension around the old card table, fellas? I wonder why.”
    â€œJust deal the cards,” Alex said. “We can work out anything if we play.”
    Holding the red deck in his hand, brow furrowed in concentration, Dean worked his jaw and leaned over the table. He’d drunk a half pint of rum and smoked a fat joint and was feeling no pain.
    â€œLet’s get some broads,” he said.
    â€œWhaddya mean, get some broads?” Nelson sneered. “You mean hookers?”
    â€œThat’s exactly what I mean, dummy. I mean, Jesus.”
    â€œFor what? Gratuitous sex?”
    â€œYeah, and any other kind I can think up. Ha!”
    â€œLet’s play cards,” Nelson suggested. “Roll ’em, Deano.”

    â€œWell, it’s not all that entertaining with only four players, you know?” Dean said, dropping the deck on the felt. “Alex is winning even faster than usual. I’m down fifteen hundred, Charlie about two grand, and you’re down what?”
    â€œI’m up five hundred,” Nelson said. “And I want to win some more. Deal the cards, Stud.”
    Dean stood up from the table and started making a sandwich. Slathering mustard on rye, he hummed a few bars of the Grateful Dead’s “Casey Jones” and then said with a teasing lilt, “You really want to play cards, is that it, Nelson? Just play cards?”
    â€œYeah. That’s why I drove up here.”
    A sly smile from Dean. “Is it?”
    Alex’s eyes snapped from Nelson to Charlie to Dean. They all had a reason for being there, and it wasn’t just cards.
    Dean wagged a finger at Nelson. “Want to ante your Corvette?”
    â€œNo, no, no. Christ, you’re nuts. It’s table stakes. The car is not on the table.”
    â€œI bet you have the pink slip in your pocket.”
    â€œYou’d lose.”
    â€œYou’re chickenshit, Nelson. Crazy Nelson, that’s a laugh.”
    â€œCrazy Nelson is not insane Nelson. You do this every year, Dean. You screw up the game with a lunatic bet because you want to stop playing so some whore can suck your dick.”
    Laughing, Charlie said, “Hey, Dean, what do you put in the pot with Nelson’s car? Your boat?”
    â€œFuck you. That boat is worth two hundred grand. Maybe my truck.”
    â€œHow about your old lady? Would you put Billie in the pot?”
    â€œAnd what would you do with her if you won, you old buttfucker? Give her away? I’ll tell you what, Charlie,” Dean said. “You put in your krautmobile, and then we’ll see what I put in.”
    â€œThe