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

"You got a watch?" I asked him quietly.

He caught on then. "You bastard!" He glared at me. He sure wanted to keep Benson's watch. "You ain't gettin' this watch that way, fella."

I shrugged and reached for the pot.

"What the hell you doin'?" he squawked.

"If you're not gonna call —”

"All right, all right, you bastard!" He peeled off Benson's watch and threw it in the pot. "There, you're called."

"That makes seventeen," I said. "You're still eight bucks light."

"Fuck you, fella! That goddamn watch is worth a hundred and fifty bucks!"

"I saw you buy it, friend. The price was five. That's what you paid for it, so I guess that's what it's worth. You got another watch?"

"You ain't gettin' my watch."

I reached for the pot again.

"Wait a minute! Wait a minute!" He pulled off his own watch.

"That's twenty-two," I said. "You're still light."

"Come on, man. My watch is worth more than five bucks."

"A Timex? Don't be stupid. I'm giving you a break letting you have five on it." I reached for the pot again.

"I ain't got nothin else,"

"Tell you what, sport. I'll give you a buck apiece for your boots."

"What the fuck you want my fuckin' boots for?"

"You gonna call?"

"All right. My fuckin' boots are in."

"Put 'em on the table, sport."

He scowled at me and started unlacing his boots. "There," he snapped, plunking them down on the table, "you're called."

"You're still a buck light." I knew I was being a prick about it, but I didn't give a damn. I get that way sometimes.

He stared at me, not saying anything.

I waited, letting him sweat. Then I dropped in on him very quietly. "Your pants ought to cover it." Some guy laughed.