Charlie Hustle

So I spent most of the day working at my tutoring company and wishing the hours would pass quicker so I could get the Friday night started. Around 730 in the PM, I did just that. I caught up with my boy mikey as he was on the tail end of a blunt, he handed it off and I took it down. I used to be the place where roaches go to die in college, if people were at the ass end of a joint and decided to throw the refuse into an ashtray, I would pick up that little paper wrapped slice of love with the simple exclamation “I’m taking it down”. After hacking up half a lung powering through this blunt, I was bouncing off walls, and ready to play some fucking poker.

I swung back by my place to pick up Russell right quick, but found him just starting a new sit and go tournament online. I took the mouse by force and played unreasonably aggressively, clawing my way to second place and a thirty-dollar payday. Although I required Russell to sit to the side and take notes as I played, he refused. I guess it was time to teach my pupil in a live game, so we headed to the mysterious Imperial Palace poker room. Once inside, I was informed that they didn’t have a 3/6 game going so I would have to play with the maniacs down at 2/4 dollar limits. At that point I figured fuck it, if I’m sitting with maniacs then I will wear their crown.

I raised preflop with queen ten off suit about the second hand I got. More people than I anticipated respected the play and laid down to me, such that when the queen came high card on the flop, I bet it the whole way and only had one caller. From there on out I raised preflop about one out of three hands I saw, until I had whittled my sixty dollars down to forty. I had already taken one Washington apple shot and when it arrived asked the waitress if she was taking orders. She was, and I put in a revolving order of Washington apples making her promise to cut me off at 28.

Then, shit started coming together. I was hitting high cards, flushes, even making a few successful bluffs at a 2/4 table which is not usually possible. The apples kept coming, and I kept talking. I was sitting on king seven off suit in the big blind, and I was ready to play some fucking poker. I loudly announced to the dealer “Show me a couple of eights”. The table had seen me down about 6 apples thus far, so they put me on “in vino verita”, believing I probably did want to see an eight. Flop comes 8,8,7 and everyone starts laughing as I throw out a massive 2 dollar bet. The little blind even folded before I bet it. One cantankerous fuck stuck with me but the other 7 callers preflop all laid down to my supposed 8. Turn came 8, and I said “Don’t embarrass me with that fourth eight on the river now” as I bet it. Dude tried to come back over the top on me like I was some kind of fucking tourist, “reraise”. He looks at me, he looks at his cards, and he calls. River comes four, I bet it and he lays the fuck down. Didn’t even show it, just told everybody that I had the eight which pissed off the whole table. In order to make amends I bought a round of apples for the table, regardless of whether people wanted them or not. I ended up having to take three of the guys down myself, but cashed out up a hundo and about 10 apples deep.

I criss-crossed my way through the Vegas thoroughfares and dropped Russell back at the crib before heading on to Mikey’s apartment complex. It was about midnight and all my people were already out, so despite my best drunk dialing efforts it took about half an hour to get a response. In the meantime, I had to take a vicious piss so I walked behind some bushes and started to unload. Sure enough, a security guard came by just as I was putting an end to my stream. I pinched the shit when I saw him, but I was standing dick out in some bushes with my back turned. He asked me “What the hell are you doing over there”. My quick drunk thinking came into play, so I responded “I’m drunk”. He again asked what the hell I was doing, so I this time I said, “Don’t worry about it, I’m Rocco’s boy.” As security guards go, he is the coolest one working there, so he took that excuse and walked away as I finally got to unpinch and relieve my flow.

About ten minutes later Mikey called me back all sorts of excited. “I just met Pete Rose”, he told me. Pete Rose helped the Phils to their lone world series ring, and was both my father and brother’s hero for his exploits on the baseball field. He is my hero for his exploits off the field. To quote from the ESPN original motion picture “Hustle”, there was a scene where one of Pete’s lackeys meets him at a horse track to take down his picks for the week. His lackey remarks, “You know I’ve never bet on one of these”. Pete is incredulous, “What do you mean you never bet?” “I guess it just never occurred to me to bet.” “Never occurred to you to bet? It never occurred to me not to bet.” That’s the way Pete Rose lived, he was the compulsive gambler to end all compulsive gamblers. Needed the action so bad that he threw away the hall of fame so that he could pursue it.

Pete fucking Rose, and now Mikey just randomly runs into him. But Mikey was pretty fucking drunk so he agreed to come back and smoke bowls with me if I paid for his cab, which with my winnings was a done deal. When he arrived, I pressed him for details about my hero. He said his crew had seen the hit king in the Caesar’s Sports book, which is exactly where he should be. He was with some 25 year old hot blonde who was probably on the payroll and taking a good long look at the lines for the weekend’s games. They said hi to him and shook his hand. Apparently Rocco shook his hand two-three times, but that was justified because “My dad and Tommy Lasorda were boys so I figure that makes me and Pete something.”

Charlie Hustle

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