Three Moments of an Explosion Read Online Free PDF Page B

rule books. Four of us were sitting at a card table while two defeated young wallflowers watched, big-eyed and silent.
    “What’s a Willesden?” said Gil “Sugarface” Sugar. He was elderly and, everyone said, paunchy but still punchy.
    “Willesden,” I said. “It’s in London.”
    He said, “I’m not calling you the Willesden Kid.”
    “It’s an honor to play with you.”
    “Get on with it,” said Denno Kane, a baby-faced dark-skinned polyglot renowned for Vingt-et-un but eager to put down money wherever there were cards.
    Sugarface and Denno went way back, and they went there with the dour Welsh woman twice my age sitting opposite me. I’d met her in Detroit. She’d been taking a break after bankrupting a small city with a pair of sevens. She’d watched me clean up small-fry stockbrokers.
    “Nice fingers,” she’d sneered. I did tricks when I dealt. “I’m Joy. No surname.”
    I pretty much shouted like a fanboy that I knew who she was. “Let me play with you,” I said.
    She’d laughed full of scorn but she liked my front. Now here I was, one of three designated hors-d’oeuvres and the only one left at the table still playing.
    We’d nearly died of happiness when they told us to bring the packs. The other two spent a lot of money on theirs. I bought mine from a gas station around the corner. Sugarface didn’t pass comment on the logo on their backs.
    My co-rookies went out as fast as expected but, with luck I deserved not at all, I was keeping up. The big three didn’t mind. I wasn’t disrespectful. I wore my most expensive suit. Sugarface had on a tux without a tie, Joy a churchy dress. Denno wore a green T-shirt with sauce stains.
    He won a big hand. “How you doing?” he said.
    “An honor to play with you,” I said.
    The two Collateral Damage got up and very politely thanked everyone for their time as if anyone even gave a shit they were talking. They left.
    “O tempora, o mores,” Joy said. Denno swore in Russian, then Greek.
    More rounds. I had a straight. Didn’t raise too high. Joy to show. She was as good as they said: her face was flint.
    “Well,” she said at last. Peered over the back of her cards and laid them slowly down.
    Denno whistled. Sugarface gasped and sat back.
    Two of Spades; Seven and Jack of Clubs; Eight of Diamonds; and a card I’d never seen before.
    An image of an elderly woman done in black and bright yellow. She wore a fur coat, held a clutch, and a cigarette in a long holder. There were insects on her stole and by her face.
    “Hell,” Sugarface said. “God damn.”
    “Full Hive,” said Joy. “The Dowager of Bees.”
    She took out a notebook and wrote something and handed it to Sugarface who signed the page with a rueful nod and passed it to Denno. The shiny yellow card sat on the table with the reds and blacks. The woman was as stylized as all face cards, bordered and reversed beneath herself.
    Denno passed me the paper. “On the dotted,” he said.
    “I don’t get it,” I said.
    There was a moment.
    “Oh ho,” said Sugarface keenly.
    “What is this?” I said.
    “Well, mazel tov, ” said Denno.
    “The others had to be gone, sure, right,” Sugarface said.
    “OK, haze the newbie,” I said. “That’s cool.”
    “Show some respect,” Denno said.
    He went to the shelf and came back with a leather-bound edition of Robert’s Rules of Poker . He flicked through pages and held it open in front of me, pointing to the relevant section.
    It was in a chapter titled “Hands that Include Hidden Suits.”
    “Full Hive,” I read. “Dowager of Bees + one black Jack + three number cards values totaling a prime number.” There was a lot more but he slammed it closed before I could read on.
    “I’ve got that book,” I said, “and I don’t remember …”
    “Trust me, it’s going to beat whatever you’ve got,” he said as he put the volume back. I showed him my straight hesitantly. “Please,” he said. “You’re physically hurting