Vic chews an unlit cigar. ‘No, no, fuck that. You said we were playing for the girls first.’

‘Those chips were my wages. Anything I won was to get these two out of the shit-pile they’re in.’

AJ is snuffling and snorting, beads of sweat standing out on his red forehead. Begging to be turned loose. But Vic holds him back with a frown, magnanimous in his good fortune.

‘Any way you look at it, McEvoy, these pretty things are still in the hole. You ain’t saved nobody. Not since the army.’

That joke is getting old.

‘I’ve got a hundred bucks left on the table. You never know, my luck might be about to change.’

Vic lights his cigar, twisting it slowly for an even burn. He’s past pretending to give a shit what I think.

‘One more hand. Why not? After today, doorman, you’re gonna have to borrow a pot to piss in. I’ll give you a good rate on one of those.’

‘Very funny, Vic. Let’s play cards.’

It’s the macho thing to say, but I don’t feel very tough. Vic is crucifying me. Maybe Simon Moriarty was right and I am totally trans-parent.

A good dealer can land five cards right on top of each other so the corners match up. This girl is so rattled, one of my cards floats right off the table.

‘You wanna change that, McEvoy?’

I snag the card with two fingers. ‘No, Vic. I’m good.’

It’s not a bad hand. Two pair. Queens and eights.

We’re both in for fifty, then I tap the table and the girl slides a single card over. Vic passes his hand across his cards, like a magician. He’s sticking with what he’s got, which should mean that he has everything he needs, unless he’s bluffing. A couple of hands back I folded on a pair of aces, lost over seven hundred dollars. I never paid to see Vic’s cards, but I’ve seen him bluff with nothing. The problem is that when Vic has his game face on, nothing changes. His voice is steady, his features are calm, his body language says fuck you, no matter how good his hand. I thought I could find a chink in his armour, but I can’t. My only hope is Lady Luck.

‘Fifty,’ I say, even though my fifth card is useless to me. Why not go for broke.

‘This is going to be easy,’ says Vic, pushing in a stack. ‘Five hundred. You can’t pay, you’re gone. No IOUs here. House rules.’

‘I know the house rules, Vic. You made us memorise them, remember?’

Vic relaxes a little now that the battle is won. ‘AJ here can’t memorise dick. That’s why we call him by his initials, so he can remember his own name.’

‘Maybe that torch scratched his brain.’