Pokergeist by Michael Phillip Cash Read Free Book Online Page B

hand.
    Telly nodded. “Hi, Cheryl.”
    “Hi, Telly. How were the tables tonight?”
    Telly responded that the gods of gambling hadn’t shined down on him. He never asked Cheryl how her job was. He didn’t want to know. It wasn’t that he judged her; it was just that he was uncomfortable talking about it.
    Cheryl pulled off the waist-length red wig, revealing a cap of short, flattened yellow curls.
    “Hard night, babydoll?” Quick Daddy asked sympathetically.
    “It’s a grind,” she replied forlornly, and then she cracked up, causing her boyfriend to laugh with her.
    Telly looked at her oddly. “They are hiring down at the mall, Cheryl.”
    “Doing what?” Cheryl leaned against the railing. “Telly, I make five times the money I did when I worked in an office. And I make my own hours,” Cheryl said, laying her hand on his arm. “Don’t look that way. I like my work. I don’t mind.”
    Telly was aghast. “You like calling yourself ‘The Little Spermaid’?”
    “Oh, that’s just a gimmick. But it’s my gimmick. My choice. Got it, Telly? Don’t you feel sorry for me. I won’t stand for it. This is the best way we can save up to buy our own CiCi’s Pizza franchise.”
    “CiCi’s Pizza?”
    “Everybody’s got a dream, Telly. We need fourteen thousand dollars more. By this time next year, you’ll be eating pizza on us.”
    Dreams, it seems, are universal. Everybody has one, Telly thought. “If I make it into the Series and win, then you guys won’t have to wait until next year.”
    “Then you and Gretch will be eating free pizza for the rest of your lives!” Cheryl announced proudly. “Right, Daddy?”
    “Whatever you say, babydoll,” he agreed, and then he pulled her toward their rooms, leaving Telly to consider the black velvet sky.

CHAPTER FIVE
    T elly opened the door of the shabby apartment. His folks wouldn’t even visit him here; they were that upset with the place. Still, it was affordable, and he knew they wouldn’t be there for long.
    Gretchen looked up from the rusty-orange sofa, a romance book in her hands. “How’d you do, Tel?” she asked hopefully.
    “Well, I almost won a hand.” He threw the key card onto the scarred dresser top where it skidded through the dust. He took off his glasses to rub his tired eyes.
    Gretchen stood to embrace him, but he waved her off, pointing to his speckled pants. “Don’t come near me till I change.” He shrugged. “A bride got sick on me.”
    Gretchen sighed. “Maybe it’s good luck.”
    “It’s my luck,” Telly responded from the bedroom, changing into sweats. Gretchen heard water running.
    “There is always tomorrow…unless you want to think about the job at George’s Cab Service.” She said it softly, but Telly heard her.
    “The Series is next week,” he said, as if that explained everything. “I know it’s been hard, Gretchen. It’s not like I don’t appreciate how you’ve supported my dream, but I feel so close.”
    He came out of the bathroom to see Gretchen’s lips pursed with disapproval. He felt bad—they had agreed that if he didn’t succeed, he would shelve the whole idea. But he just wasn’t ready to do that yet.
    The cab job…twelve hours a day, six days a week. A steady income, but no shot for real money. Once he took that, his chances for the Series were impossible. They had to last another week, just another week.
    “We’re so close—registration is Monday.” Telly came in to sit on the edge of the couch.
    Gretchen closed her book and turned to face him. She had been quiet the last few days. Anybody who knew Gretchen could tell she was concerned. Gretchen had turned inward. She didn’t want to burden him with her suspicions, at least not yet, but Telly had to get a real job, really fast. She worried her bottom teeth with her top lip, her hands twisting. This was all her fault in so many ways. It had seemed like a good idea a few weeks ago, but instead of bolstering his confidence, losing so many