"Eddings, David - High Hunt" - читать интересную книгу автора (High Hunt)

"My pants!" he almost screamed.

"On the table," I said, pointing, "or I take the pot."

"Fuck ya!"

I reached for the pot again.

"Wait a minute! Wait a minute!" His voice was desperate.

He stood up, emptied his pockets, and yanked off Ms pants. He wasn't wearing any shorts and his nudity was grossly obscene. He threw the pants at me, but I deflected them into the center of the table. "All right, you son of a bitch!" he said, not sitting down. "Let's see your pissy little straight beat a full-fuckin' house!" He rolled over his third seven.

"I haven't got a straight, friend."

"Then I win, huh?"

I shook my head. "You lose." I pulled the joker away from the queens and the nine and slowly started turning up my buried aces. "One. Two. Three. And four. Is that enough, friend?" I asked him.

"Je-sus Christ!" some guy said reverently.

The fat man stood looking at the aces for a long time. Then he stumbled away from the table and almost ran out of the cargo hold, his fat behind jiggling with every step.

"I still say it's a mighty hard way to play poker," Sergeant Riker said softly as I hauled in the merchandise.

"I figured he had it coming," I said shortly.

"Maybe so, son, maybe so, but that still don't make it right, does it?"

And that finished my winning streak. Riker proceeded to give me a series of very expensive poker lessons. By the time I quit that night, I was back down to four hundred dollars. I sent the fat guy's watch, boots, and pants back to him with one of his buddies, and went up on deck to get some air. The engine pounded in the steel deck plates, and the wake was streaming out behind us, white against the black water.

"Smoke, son?" It was Riker. He leaned against the rail beside me and held out his pack.

"Thanks," I said. "I ran out about an hour ago."

"Nice night, ain't it?" His voice was soft and pleasant. I couldn't really pin down his drawl. It was sort of Southern.

I looked up at the stars. "Yeah," I said. "I've been down at that poker table for so long I'd almost forgotten what the stars looked like."

The ship took a larger wave at a diagonal and rolled with an odd, lurching kind of motion.

"You still ahead of the game, son?" he asked me, his voice serious.

"A little bit," I said cautiously.

"If it was me," he said, "I wouldn't go back no more. You've won yourself a little money, and you got your buddy's watch back for him. If it was me, I'd just call 'er quits."

"I was doing pretty well there for a while," I objected. "I think I was about fifteen hundred dollars to the good before I started losing. I'll win that back in just a few hours, the way the pots have been running."

"You broke your string, son," Riker said softly, looking out over the water. "You been losin' 'cause you was ashamed of yourself for what you done to that heavyset boy."