The Tosser And The Shill

Paul and Jean were on holiday to celebrate their six month anniversary –they’d been dating six months and were very much in love. Or at least Paul was. He was planning to propose to her later on that day. They were a mixed couple; he was studying Game Theory in university and she was a waitress –the sort of romance that corny songs were made of.

A date in the city followed by a meal where he would ultimately propose, Paul was giddy with excitement and anticipation. Walking along the pavement they could see a crowd of people milling about the embankment.

“It must be some kind of street performer.” Paul mumbled, his mind on the meal later. It was an expensive restaurant to be sure, but she was worth it.

“Oh, let’s go see.” Jean replied, clasping his arm tighter.

“Really? Do we have to?” He moaned. Street performance of any kind was not his idea of art. But in that, and in many things, he and Jean differed. She had no real conception of art; her idea of great music was whatever currently languished in the charts; her taste in films was limited to lame rom-coms and schlocky horror whereas he was an aficionado of Tarkovsky, Cassavetes and Truffaut.

They didn’t have much to talk about but the sex was amazing –there were far worse things to base a relationship on, surely…

Rather than it being a street performer it was a hustler playing a game of 3 Card Monte. Paul wanted nothing to do with any of it and tried to steer her away from it but Jean dragged him closer. It was a simple set up, a single collapsible table with a man sitting behind, shuffling a deck of cards in a very expert fashion. The guy was dressed very smoothly; a red and black chequered Ben Sherman shirt with a pair of Levi jeans. The crowd of people seemed excitable and Paul wanted none of it.

“I see we have another customer.” The Player said, locking eyes directly with Paul. “Want to try your luck?”

“Nope – luck has nothing to do with it.” Paul replied matter-of-factly.

“Ah, a wise guy, eh?” The Player mocked.

“Go on, Paul.” Jean chipped in. “You’re always boasting about how smart you are; now’s your chance to prove it.” The crowd immediately saw this as a chance to get involved and started jeering at him to play. Paul just wanted to walk away but knew that Jean would never let him live it down. He nodded and stepped closer to the table.

“Let’s keep the stakes low, yeah?” The Player smirked. “Wouldn’t want you to lose too much too soon. Not in front of your girlfriend, anyways.”

“My fiancé, you mean.” Paul said and realised what he’d just let slip out. Jean didn’t react at all but the Player did, bizarrely. It was like a twitch in his eye but he quickly replied:

“Well, aren’t you the lucky one?” The player pulled three cards out of the deck: five of clubs, a joker and the Ace of hearts. “Find the red heart and win the bet. A fiver to start”.

Paul placed the five pound note on the table and watched the player as he showed the cards with the Ace in the middle, and then shuffled them deftly.

Now Paul possessed an eidetic memory which Jean didn’t know about, but even he couldn’t follow the speed in which the Player shuffled the cards and before long he’d bet his entire restaurant budget on the games, much to Jeans disgust and the crowds amusement. He was about to walk away when the Player said;

“Tell you what… want a chance to win your money back?”

“You’re kidding.. no way.”

“Seriously; we’ll even up the stakes. I’ll double what’s on the table and you can give me…I don’t know… your watch.”

“But it’s a Rolex!”

“But think about what you get if you win! Well… your self-respect back is one thing…” The crowd laughed at this. “And you’ll probably get laid tonight as well.” Jean squeezed his arm in agreement. Paul had never lost so much money before and he now stood to lose his Father’s watch as well. However, if he did walk away he knew that he could forget about the engagement, Jean would never want to be around a loser.

“Ok. One last go.” He replied and the crowd cheered.

The player smiled, showing off his gold tooth, glinting just like his eyes. He showed the same three cards again, the red Ace in the middle. This time there was something different; Paul noticed that the Ace had one of its corners folded, almost imperceptibly; but it would be enough for the Player to know the difference. The dealer shuffled the cards in front of him and, again, Paul lost track of them. However when the Player stopped Paul could still see the card with the folded corner. He stabbed his finger triumphantly on to the third card.

To his amazement he was correct. The crowd collectively breathed deep, in shock.

“Damn, man… you got me good. This ain’t never happened before.” The Player counted the money and begrudgingly placed it in Paul’s hand. Paul could hardly contain his excitement; this was a dream come true! He’d never won anything in his life before. He thanked the player and started to walk out of the crowd, Jean in tow. The crowd wouldn’t let him through.

“How we know you’re not in on it all?” One guy said.

“Are you kidding? I didn’t want to play in the first place!” Paul replied.

“Like you say… how we know that, mister?” Another woman confronted him, prodding him with a chubby finger.

“My girlfriend forced me into it…”

“So? She might be in on it as well!”

“So, what you’re saying is that I’ve got no choice but to play again?”

“Yup – play again. You lose then we know you’re not in on it.”

“But there’s no way I can win again!” He protested.

“So you’re saying it IS fixed.”  There was no way out for him, he had no choice but to play. The player grinned triumphantly as Paul turned back to him, showed the same three cards with the Ace in the middle. It was the same card with the same corner folded down. There might still be a chance, Paul thought to himself.

The cards were shuffled in front of him and then mixed up a bit further. Paul could see the card with the folded corner easily enough.

“Mind your bustling, lady!” Jean suddenly snapped at the woman next to her, momentarily breaking Paul’s concentration for a split second. He looked back and there was the card again, the one with the folded corner and he grinned inside.

“What you going to bet me this time, m’man?” The Player needled. Paul knew he’d have to up the stakes; the crowd wanted blood, he could tell. If he bet less than the amount he’d already won then they’d take it away from him one way or another…

“The only thing I’ve got left is this engagement ring I was going to propose to my girlfriend with tonight…” He took the ring out of his pocket and placed it on the table in front of him, with all the money he’d won. He knew it was a safe bet anyway, so it wasn’t too much of an issue.

“Damn straight.” The player replied, smiling benignly. “Now, which card you think it is?”

Paul pointed to the dog eared card in the first position. He watched in slow motion as the Player picked it up and showed the rest of the crowd. The Player then showed Paul.

It was the Joker.