The Music of Chance by Paul Auster Read Free Book Online Page A

me.”
    “You’re not making this up?”
    “Why should I make it up? The fat one’s name is Flower, and the skinny guy is called Stone. The weird thing is that they bothhave the same first name—William. But Flower goes by Bill, and Stone calls himself Willie. It’s not as confusing as it sounds. Once you’re with them, you don’t have any trouble telling them apart.”
    “Like Mutt and Jeff.”
    “Yeah, that’s right. They’re a regular comedy team. Like those funny little buggers on TV, Ernie and Bert. Only these guys are called Willie and Bill. It has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it? Willie and Bill.”
    “How did you happen to meet them?”
    “I ran into them in Atlantic City last month. There’s a game I sometimes go to down there, and they sat in on it for a while. After twenty minutes, they were both down five thousand dollars. I never saw such stupid betting in my life. They thought they could bluff their way through anything—like they were the only ones who knew how to play, and the rest of us were just dying to fall for their Humpty-Dumpty tricks. A couple of hours later, I went over to one of the casinos to horse around, and there they were again, standing at the roulette wheel. The fat one came up to me—”
    “Flower.”
    “—right, Flower. He came up to me and said, I like your style, son, you play a mean hand of poker. And then he went on to say that if I ever felt like getting into a friendly little game with them, I was more than welcome to drop by their house. So that’s how it happened. I told him sure, I’d love to play with them some time, and last week I called up and arranged the game for this coming Monday. That’s why I’m so burned about what happened last night. It would have been a beautiful experience, an honest-to-goodness walk down Jackpot Lane.”
    “You just said ‘their house.’ Does that mean they live together?”
    “You’re pretty sharp, aren’t you? Yeah, that’s what I said—‘their house.’ It sounds a little strange, but I don’t think they’re a pair of fruits or anything. They’re both in their fifties, and they both used to be married. Stone’s wife died, and Flower and hiswife are divorced. They’ve each got a couple of kids, and Stone’s even a grandfather. He used to be an optometrist before he won the lottery, and Flower used to be an accountant. Real ordinary middle-class guys. They just happen to live in a twenty-room mansion and get one point three-five million tax-free dollars every year.”
    “I guess you’ve been doing your homework.”
    “I told you, I checked them out. I don’t like to get into games when I don’t know who I’m playing with.”
    “Do you do anything besides play poker?”
    “No, that’s it. I just play poker.”
    “No job? Nothing to back you up if you hit a dry spell?”
    “I worked in a department store once. That was the summer after I got out of high school, and they put me in the men’s shoe department. It was the pits, let me tell you, the absolute worst. Getting down on your hands and knees like some kind of dog, having to breathe in all those dirty sock smells. It used to make me want to barf. I quit after three weeks, and I haven’t had a regular job since.”
    “So you do all right for yourself.”
    “Yeah, I do all right. I have my ups and downs, but there’s never been anything I couldn’t handle. The main thing is I do what I want. If I lose, it’s my ass that loses. If I win, the money’s mine to keep. I don’t have to take shit from anyone.”
    “You’re your own boss.”
    “Right. I’m my own boss. I call my own shots.”
    “You must be a pretty good player, then.”
    “I’m good, but I’ve still got a ways to go. I’m talking about the great ones—your Johnny Moseses, your Amarillo Slims, your Doyle Brunsons. I want to get into the same league as those guys. You ever hear about Binion’s Horseshoe Club in Vegas? That’s where they play the World Series of Poker. In a