Famous loser

I walked over to the jukebox, put a dollar in and played some Don Williams. I vacuumed the rugs and did the dishes. It was almost one in the morning. I had another hour to wait. I couldn’t total out until I locked the door, so I counted my tips. A hundred and forty-seven dollars clear. A few more weeks like this and I could be alright. I made myself a large Jack Coke and sat at the corner of the bar. I lit up and unbuttoned my long-sleeve. It was hot in the bar. I set my shirt on the bar and zoned out. I finished the drink and set the garbage bags by the back door. The front door opened and the cold air shot in.

“You closed?”

“Not yet. You still have a good hour.”

His name was Blanks. I never knew his first name. I knew he lived south between the bar and Bend with his wife and two boys. I hadn’t seen him in over a month. He was addicted to the machines. He played poker constantly. The last time he was in he blew his whole two week’s pay. He was a famous loser in the county. He had big sorry eyes and a droopy mustache. He sat at the bar, “Walked here from Goodwater’s. Old lady took the car back. We had a fight.”

“I hear you.”

“Bottle of Bud.”

I opened the bottle for him. He walked over and sat behind the poker machine. He held up a roll of bills, “You see this? Nine hundred dollars. I’m going to turn this into a small fortune. Right here, right now.”

“Don’t say that.”

“Fuck it. I’m due.”

I went back to the walk-in and hauled out some bottles and rotated the beer case behind the bar. I wheeled out a replacement keg and set it under the taps in the cooler for the morning bartender. It had been a heavy night for house drafts and she was old and weak. I set the clean glasses back and wiped down the bar one more time.

“Another bottle of Bud.”

I walked it over. He handed me a twenty, “Keep it.”

“Blanks, you need to hold onto this.”

“Ah, fuck it. I’m already up three hundred.”

“Walk away now. Twelve hundred dollars is a lot of money.”

His eyes were sick with fever: “No. I have unfinished business with this fucking machine. Remember the last time I was in here? This motherfucker took six hundred away from the table.”

“These machines are designed to win. Once in awhile somebody gets lucky, but that’s all it is.”

“Bullshit. This thing is MINE.”

“Alright.”

I stood behind the bar and drank my drink.

He yelled: “Ha! Sixteen hundred! Here we fucking go! Bring it on, you motherfucker!”

I totaled out the till. It was a good night for Buck and Tammy. I rolled the receipt and wrapped a rubber band around it. I walked back into the office and set the deposit bag in the safe. I walked out and picked up my drink, “How’s it going, Blanks?”

“Fucker has me down to five hundred. I’m not worried, though. It’s just fucking with me.”

By a quarter to close he was dead broke. He walked over to the bar and plopped down, “Son of a bitch. That was my rent and bills.”

I didn’t say anything. He dropped his head on the bar and started crying. He sobbed about how his wife was going to be pissed at him and how his kids had no food. He was pathetic there. He sat up and stared at me, “Hey, about that twenty. I might need that for a cab.”

“I put it under the ashtray.”

He looked over and swiped it up. I walked in the back and grabbed my coat and gloves. I watched him from the kitchen window. He went to the machine and fed it the twenty. It was gone instantly. He screamed and hit the machine. I walked around and lit up. Five minutes to close.

“Blanks, I have to shut it down. I’m sorry.”

“How am I getting home?”

“I don’t know.”

He leaned over the bar, “Listen, loan me a hundred dollars. That machine is just waiting to pay out. I’ll give you half of what I win.”

“No fucking way. I have bills and rent. I can’t afford to piss my money away on the fucking lottery.”

He sobbed and wiped his face, “What am I going to do?”

I called a cab. I had gotten to know Jerry over the phone but I only saw his face through the opened door of the bar.

“Burris cab.”

“Hello, Jerry. Blanks needs a ride home.”

“Does he have money?”

“I’ll get the fare. Can you hurry?”

“I’m turning the corner now.”

I hung up, “I’ll get the cab ride. I have to close up. Jerry’s almost here. I’m sorry, Blanks.”

He downed his beer and slid the bottle over to me. I trashed it. Jerry stuck his head in the door, “Let’s go, Blanks.”

I handed him a twenty and five ones, “He has twenty five bucks, Jerry. Is five dollars good enough for a tip?”

“It’s fine. Talk to you later.”

Blanks walked to the door with the money. There was a machine by the pool table near the front door. He hesitated and looked at me. I reached over and flipped off the lights over the pool tables.