THEY HASHED OUT A FEW MORE DETAILS AT SCHOOL THE NEXT day, but before anything else could happen Jonah needed to retrieve his truck with the dead battery from Mid-City. He rode the streetcar out in the afternoon and gave the ignition a few futile tries before an older man with skin the color of pecans appeared in the window and asked him if he needed a jump.
“That’d be great.”
The man removed his tattered baseball cap and gestured at the corner bar Colby had wanted to visit the night before. “Time for a beer first?”
“I dunno, I’m kind of in a hurr—”
“Quick beer,” the man said, already turning and beckoning. He smiled, revealing a gap between his front teeth. “Everybody got time for that.”
The man’s name was Gil, and his hand was large and rough when they shook. A rooster stalked along the serrated top of a wooden gate next to the bar. It hopped to the ground and strutted, pecked at something in the grit.
“Lookit that thing,” Gil said. “You know, the feral chickens go around screwing the pigeons.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” Gil answered, busting up into laughter. “Making a bunch of chigeons.”
Gil rang the bell at the door and the bartender, a pretty blonde, buzzed them in. Small candles flickered on the bar top and on the tables arranged against the wall, and the lamps suspended from the ceiling were the same color as the candle flames. Paintings of vintage nudes hung on the walls. Cigarette smoke slithered, and the video poker machines in the back of the room jingled in the lull between jukebox tracks.
They sat at the bar and Gil asked Jonah if he was picky. Jonah shook his head. The bartender brought them beers in cold cans, and Gil said, “Couple roll-a-days, too. The young man feels lucky to me.”
The bartender retrieved a plastic cup, rattling the dice inside it. “Who’s first?”
To Gil, Jonah said, “Show me how it’s done.”
“What’s the pot up to?”
The bartender scanned a page in a lined notebook. “Twenty-one hundred.”
Gil whistled. “Five of a kind wins the pot. Easy as pie.”
He lifted the cup and slammed it, opening side down, as if no outcome would surprise him. He lifted the cup again, and the dice gave him a mix of numbers. “That’s that.”
The bartender slid the cup to Jonah, wrote his name in the ledger, and winked.
Jonah allowed himself a quick, silent wish before slamming the cup down.
I could visit her again, at the very least. Maybe stay for a little while longer.
He lifted the cup. Four threes and a one.
“Roll again!” the bartender said. “Four of a kind gets you another.”
Gil slapped Jonah on the back. “Think good thoughts, young man.”
Jonah gathered the dice, shook the cup, and flipped it over.
“Hey!” Gil cried. Jonah had again rolled four of a kind. “Hey, now!”
The jukebox switched tracks and Jonah could hear his heart in his temples. Something was happening. He flipped the cup.
Two pair and a solo.
The bartender swept the dice away. “Sorry, babe,” she offered.
“Still,” Gil said. “Damn lucky. Should take you to the track with me. Drink up.”
Gil paid for the beers and the dice rolls. Jonah thanked him, and then Gil said, “Woulda been enough for a new car battery and then some, eh?”
Jonah shrugged. He’d steal a new battery from work. “What would you do with the money, Mr. Gil?”
Gil looked at him sidelong. “Well. Let’s see.” He lit a cigarette and exhaled smoke. “Suppose I’d like to put it toward a bike. Had my eye on a ’69 Triumph some cat down the road’s selling. But . . .” He paused and laughed, a rich sound. “Probably I’d tell my wife we won some money and we’d take a vacation. Then we’d come home and I still wouldn’t have that bike.”
“I’d use it. I’m taking a trip.”
“Where to?”
“Mexico.”
“Old Mexico way, huh?”
“Well. I got a girl.”
“So you know what I mean, then.” Smoke trailed from his smile.
“She lives in Mexico.”
“I see.”
“Yeah.”
Gil nodded thoughtfully. He exhaled. “Since forever, men been doing stupid things for the women they love.” He sipped his beer and set the bottle down on the bar, and then he placed his palms flat on the bar top and stared at his hands. “But if there be a worthier cause for foolish action, I don’t know it.” He lifted his beer again and drained it. “Come on. Get you jumped.”
Dark had fallen. The rooster regarded them from his fence. They got Jonah’s Ford started and shook hands.
“Ride that good luck of yours a while yet,” Gil offered. “Take care, young man.”