More Twisted

jackpot, players are dealt five cards and then have the option of exchanging up to three in hopes of bettering their hands. Good players, like Keller, had long ago memorized the odds of drawing certain combinations. Say he was dealt a pair of threes, a jack, a seven and a two. If he decided to keep the pair and the jack and draw substitutes for the other two, he’d have a one-in-five chance of getting another jack to make a two-pair hand. To draw the remaining threes in the deck—to make four of a kind—his chances dropped to one in 1,060. But if he chose to keep only the pair and draw three new cards, the odds of getting that four of a kind improved to 1 in 359. Knowing these numbers, and dozens more, were what separated amateur players from pros, and Keller made a very good living as a pro.
    They tossed in the ante and Wendall began dealing.
    Keller focused on Tony’s strategy. He’d expected the kid to play recklessly but on the whole he was cautious and seemed to be getting a feel for the table and the players. A lot of teenagers would’ve been loud and obnoxious, Keller supposed, but the boy sat back quietly and just played cards.
    Which wasn’t to say he didn’t need advice.
    “Tony, don’t play with your chips. Makes you look nervous.”
    “I wasn’t playing with them. I—”
    “And here’s another rule—don’t argue with the guys giving you rules. You’re good. You got it in you to be a great player—but you gotta shut up and listen to the experts.”
    Lasky grumbled, “Listen to him, kid. He’s the best. I figure I bought his friggin’ Mercedes for him, all the money I lost here. And does he bring it into my shop to get the dings out? Hell, no . . . . Call you.” He shoved chips forward.
    “I don’t get dings, Lasky. I’m a good driver. Just like I’m a good poker player . . . . Say hi to the ladies.” Keller laid down three queens and took the $900 pot.
    “Fuck me,” Lasky snapped angrily.
    “Now there’s another rule,” Keller said, nodding at the body-shop man then turning to Tony. “Never show emotion—losing or winning. It gives your opponent some information they can use against you.”
    “Excuse me for breaking the rules,” Lasky muttered to Keller. “I meant to say fuck you. ”
    Twenty minutes later Tony’d had a string of losses. On the next hand he looked at the five cards he’d been dealt and, when Stanton bet ten dollars, shook his head. Hefolded without drawing any cards and glumly toyed with the lid of his Starbucks cup.
    Keller frowned. “Why’d you fold?”
    “Losing streak.”
    Keller scoffed. “There’s no such thing as a losing streak.”
    Wendall nodded, pushing the cards toward Tony to deal. The resident Mr. Wizard of poker said, “Remember that. Every hand of poker starts with a fresh shuffle so it’s not like blackjack—there’s no connection between hands. The laws of probability rule.”
    The boy nodded and, sure enough, played his way through Stanton’s bluff to take a $850 pot.
    “Hey, there you go,” Keller said. “Good for you.”
    “So what? You in school, kid?” Lasky asked after a few lackluster hands.
    “Two cards,” the boy said to Keller, then dealing. He replied to Lasky, “Been in computer science at the community college for a year. But it’s boring. I’m going to drop out.”
    “Computers?” Wendall asked, laughing derisively. “High-tech stocks? I’ll take craps or roulette wheel any day. At least you know what the odds are.”
    “And what do you want to do for a living?” Keller asked.
    “Play cards professionally.”
    “Three cards,” Lasky muttered to Keller. Then to Tony he gave a gruff laugh. “Pro card playing? Nobody does that. Well, Keller does. But nobody else I know of.” A glance at Stanton. “How ’bout you, Grandpa, you ever play pro?”
    “Actually, the name’s Larry. Two cards.”
    “No offense, Larry .”
    “And two cards for the dealer,” Keller said.
    The old man arranged his cards. “No, I never even thought about it.” A nod at the pile of chips in front of him—he was just about even for the night. “I play all right but the odds’re still against you. Anything serious I do with money? I make sure the odds’re on my side.”
    Lasky sneered. “That’s what makes you a man, for Christ’s sake. Having the balls to play even if the odds’re against you.” A glance at Tony. “You look like you got balls. Do you?”
    “You tell me, ” the boy asked and