AJ smacks the flat of his hand on the table, but he won’t move without a go from Vic.

‘Okay,’ says Vic. ‘So you’re done, doorman. Get the hell out of my club. You’re barred.’

‘Unless I got dollars to spend, right?’

‘I don’t turn down cash money. You never know, if you drop by, maybe Marcie here will give you a hand-job in one of the booths. Work off some of her debt.’

Marcie cries a river, and I reach for my wallet.

‘I’ll see your five hundred.’

Vic hides his surprise well. ‘You sure about that?’

‘What? You thought I was walking around broke? I got funds, Vic, so I see your five. You never turn down cash money, right?’ I toss the bills in with a flourish.

‘Never.’ Vic cups his stash with two hands and pushes it all in. ‘There’s your five hundred, and two thousand more. You got that much walking-around money?’

I’m watching him closely. Same old Vic. I was hoping the surprise funds might throw him.

‘Yeah, I got it.’

Your getaway money? Come on, Dan. Are you going to blow all that for these two airheads? They dug this hole for themselves.

I have no intention of blowing it all; just enough to clear the girls and maybe get my wages back. This pot and that’s it.

‘How much you got in that safe you don’t have?’

Vic somehow keeps the face straight. I bet his toes are curled in his shoes.

‘I got the night’s float. That’s twenty grand, Daniel.’

And there it is. He was all McEvoy-doorman-moron and suddenly it’s Daniel. Vic never called me Daniel in his life. It’s just like Dr Moriarty said: Vic’s subconscious is trying to gain my trust because he’s lying. Bluffing.

I realise with a rush of certainty that Vic doesn’t have shit in his hand. I can win big here.

My resolve to play it safe dissolves, and in its place floats a shining Christmas bauble vision of a moment in the near future when I leave Victor Jones weeping at his own table. If I let him keep the table. This is the guy whose first thought on seeing Connie dead in the parking lot was for his own sleazy business, and I feel an irresistible urge to take that business away from him.

My poker face is nowhere near as good as Vic’s, so I hide it in my hands, feigning distress.

‘Twenty grand. Christ. But you’re not going to risk all that. No way.’

‘Maybe I will, maybe I won’t.’

‘Okay. Okay. I’ll take five. I’ve got five. So that’s three grand to you.’