Bender at the Bon Parisien (A Novel) Page 6

  Chapter VI.

  Now deep into the dizzy of a few drinks, I plunked out a melody at the piano. The old ivory keys were cracked and dirty. The instrument was out of tune as well. Janie sat with me, jotting verse on to a napkin.

  Behind me, Fleuse and Trudel were still at their table. Pistache slowly swayed along with the piano. Although he was the most recent addition, he’d already managed more booze than anyone.

  “Okay, that’s enough of that!” Trudel shouted at me from her spot at the table.

  “Let him play!” Pistache slurred dreamily.

  “I just finished my drink, and I need another. What kind of bartender are you?” The opera singer shrieked.

  “The tourist kind,” I laughed and looked at Janie.

  “Honey, get her a drink,” she urged under her breath.

  I stood, abruptly stopping the music. We walked back to the bar.

  “Aww,” Pistache groaned. “What shall I dance to now?” The part in his hair was beginning to give way and send dark strands flopping over his face.

  “I didn’t come to my favorite bar in the world tonight not to drink anything,” Trudel lamented. “Here it’s been closed for a few weeks and this is what I have to return to.”

  “He is doing his best,” Fleuse backed me up. “It’s better than serving ourselves.”

  “Is it?!” she barked.

  Pistache had a mischievous look about him. He fired out at Trudel, “If you can tell me how to make something as simple as a martini, then I will buy your next drink.”

  “Go to hell,” she shot back.

  “That’s what I thought. You couldn’t serve yourself if you tried.”

  “Okay everyone,” I began to diffuse the conversation. “What is the next round?”

  “How about another Esprit de la Nuit?” Janie mused.

  “What’s that?” Trudel asked.

  “It’s a drink we made up before you arrived,” I answered. “Would you like to try it?”

  “I’ll hate it,” the opera singer answered. “I’ll stick with another whiskey, neat.”

  “Oh, I think I could take another beer,” Pistache slurred.

  “A beer please,” said Fleuse.

  “Here’s an idea,” Pistache practically jumped in the air. “We should play a drinking game!”

  “We’re listening,” Janie answered. She smiled at me. We have a good time with drinking games with our friends.

  Trudel rolled her eyes, but Fleuse nodded.

  “Well, I’m thinking maybe something that says ‘welcome to Europe’ for the both of you,” Pistache continued. “Perhaps something that involves the loss of clothing.” He couldn’t resist gauging Janie’s reaction out of the corner of his eye.

  “No,” both Janie and I definitively reacted. She sighed and shook her head at me. However, Fleuse missed our exchange as he eagerly looked toward Trudel, who rolled her eyes and made a “pfft” sound.

  “Okay then, new idea.” Pistache recovered. “Does anyone have a deck of cards? I assure you, all clothes will stay on.”

  “I do, upstairs in my bag,” Janie offered.

  “Victor always kept some back there somewhere,” Fleuse said. He stood and approached the bar top. Leaning in, he squinted over the top of his glasses at the area behind me. “Try that cupboard down there.”

  I turned, squatted, and found nothing besides a few cobwebs and some dirty glassware. “I don’t see it.”

  “It is probably in a shoebox. I think it was blue. Try the cupboard next to that one.”

  I moved over one and the search continued.

  “Should be a deck of cards … some dice?” His speech was meandering.

  “Got it,” I said triumphantly as I pulled the shoebox from the darkness. The box did indeed contain a deck of cards, some dice, and also some miscellaneous game pieces including chess, checkers, and a Monopoly top hat. There were no game boards.

  “Perfect,” Pistache commented. “Let’s see the cards. Everyone gather around up here.”

  Trudel joined the rest of us at the bar, and Pistache began wildly handling the cards. As drunk as he appeared, he was amazingly adept with the shuffle.

  “Didn’t you say you did a little magic?” Janie asked him.

  “I did, but card tricks aren’t really my thing. That is, unless you have another card hiding behind your ear,” he said as he winked and playfully pinched her cheek. I have a pretty high tolerance for people hitting on my wife, but this was starting to be a bit much. Janie wasn’t exactly pleased either.

  “Back off, man,” I finally snapped. I could feel myself starting to really dislike this guy. “Really, that’s enough.”

  “Sorry, my friend. I get carried away,” he apologized. “Okay, here’s the game. There are five of us here, so we deal out 9 cards each, jokers included.”

  “What about the leftovers?” I asked.

  “There will be a nine card blind,” he answered with a shrug.

  “What’s this game called?” Trudel asked.

  “I don’t know. Uh … Pistache!” Jacques exclaimed.

  Trudel already looked like she disapproved.

  “This is not a real game?” I asked.

  “Of course it’s real! Here’s what happens: we will begin with clubs. Whoever has the two of clubs lays it down and has to take a drink. We each take turns adding to the pile in a sequence. Three, four, five, etc. We go all the way up to the ace. Whoever has the ace assigns a sip to someone else. That person will then drink and call the next suit.”

  “Uh, okay,” I stammered. Janie gave me a look of slight confusion, and I’m sure she read the same on my face. Fleuse and Trudel looked equally perplexed.

  “Think you got it?” Pistache asked.

  “I guess,” Janie said.

  “So only four people drink through the whole deck? The ones who start each suit?” I asked. Feeling drunk, I needed as much explanation as possible.

  “Definitely not. You’ll see. I have an idea for it. Let’s walk through a round. Who has the two of clubs?”

  We looked at each other. Fleuse glanced at his hand. “Me,” he said as he produced the card and laid it on the bar.

  “Excellent,” Pistache went on. “Bottoms up.”

  “Easy,” Fleuse said bravely as he took a sip.

  I laughed a little.

  “Perfect!” exclaimed Jacques. “Now, who has the three of clubs?”

  “I do.” Janie said.

  “Lay it down, please. See, we are creating a suited run: two through ace of clubs. Fleuse began the run, so he had to drink. Who’s next? Four of clubs?”

  We all produced the sequence one after another until the ten of clubs could not be produced.

  “What happens now?” I asked.

  “Well, the ten must be in the blind,” Pistache explained. “The streak is broken because no one has it. Who has the jack?”

  “I do,” Trudel said.

  “Great, lay it down and take a drink.”

  “Why do I have to drink? It’s not the start of a suit.”

  “But you are the first in a new run. Those are the rules,” Pistache said.

  “You are making them up as you go! Those are not the rules,” the opera singer protested.

  “No, my dear. I think those are the rules,” Fleuse jumped in.

  “I am not ‘your dear’!” Trudel snapped and took a drink. I wasn’t sure if it was a drink because of the game or a drink because she was coping with Fleuse’s advances.

  “Excellent, thank you Trudel,” Pistache said. “Well done.” He threw down the queen, the king followed.

  “Here’s the ace,” I said as I lay the final club on the bar.

  “That’s when you yell, ‘Pistache’!” Jacques said.

  I laughed. “Pistache!”

  “And now you assign a drink to someone.”

  “Well, I pick you.”

  “Okay, very well.” Pistache took a drink. “Now, since I was picked by the person with the ace
, then I call the next suit. I’ll say spades. Who has the two of spades?”

  “Right here,” Janie said. She laid it down.

  “One question,” I interrupted. “I have a joker. What do I do with that?”

  “If you are lucky enough to hold a joker, then it may be used to deflect a drink on to someone else. It’s not unlike the ace in that regard.”

  “Oh, okay. When do I play it?”

  “Any time you want.”

  “So I can just throw it down right now and make you take another drink?”

  “I’m sorry, I should have clarified,” Pistache went on. “The joker deflects a drink in the sense that it protects you from a drink you don’t want. If someone asks you to drink, you can put down the joker and give that drink to someone else.”

  “I get it now,” I said with a nod.

  The game had progressed silently as Pistache and I spoke.

  “Who has the nine of spades?” Trudel asked.

  I threw it down. The ten followed. The game stopped.

  “And the jack?” Trudel asked.

  Another second of silence.

  “The jack is in the blind!” Pistache exclaimed. “Whoever has the queen, produce it and drink!”

  Before anyone could move, the curtain again parted and a new face entered the bar. I half expected him to know everyone in the room since that seemed to be the pattern, but the good-looking, plain man smiled slightly when I looked up and he approached the bar.

  “Good evening, sir,” I said like a real bartender.

  “Good evening. A beer, please.”

  “Sounds good,” I replied. The rest looked at him.

  “Looks like you are all in the middle of a card game,” he noticed.

  “Yes,” Pistache answered. “In fact, I was just explaining the rules to my friends here. Would you like to join? It could be easily arranged.”

  “No thank you,” the stranger said politely. “I brought a book, so I’ll be comfortable somewhere over there. Thanks,” he said as I slid him a beer, and he retreated quietly to the tables.

  I looked to Janie and whispered, “Who brings a book to a bar at night?”

  “I have, actually,” she whispered. “He must like it quiet.”

  “Maybe in the afternoon, sure,” I said, “but I’ve never heard of anyone going out at night with a book to a bar.”

  “It’s not too bad a thing,” Janie said.

  “So we continue!” Pistache exclaimed. “Where’s the king of spades?”

  Janie took another sip from her Esprit de la Nuit and threw a card on the bar.

  * * *

  After a few rounds, I began to realize exactly how frequently I was taking sips during Pistache’s game. Shouts of “Ace! Drink! Pistache! Hearts! Joker!” were becoming more frequent as we increased our speed of gameplay.

  The fourth patron to enter proved even more quiet than Fleuse. He was a detached player in our scene, but I caught him curiously gazing over the pages of his book more than once.

  The street performer was beginning to move more and more clumsily. He celebrated every “Pistache!” with a little dance and bow, usually nearly throwing himself to the ground.

  Everyone else was really coming around on the game. Even Trudel was smiling more often. There was an instance when she wasn’t paying enough attention for Pistache’s liking, and he reached over and pulled a card from her hand for her. From what I knew of Trudel, normally this presumptive act and invasion of space would have sent her through the ceiling, but here she easily replied, “Isn’t it wonderful how a little nonsense brings people together?”

  “Here’s the ace! Pistache!” Pistache exclaimed once again. “Oh Fleusie, dear!”

  Fleuse looked slowly in his direction. “Yes?”

  “Have a drink, and call the next suit.”

  “This is quite a game, Jacques,” Fleuse muttered without lifting his glass.

  “Are you running out of steam, my dear man?” Pistache asked.

  Fleuse didn’t answer.

  “Oh no,” Pistache continued. “Don’t give up now. You just need a little pick-me-up.”

  He leapt in his direction and grabbed Fleuse's hands. Extending Fleuse’s arm, Pistache began swaying him back and forth, humming a soft but lively song. He was trying to dance him back to the game.

  “You two are strange,” Trudel said.

  Janie was smiling.

  “C’mon, Jacques. Stop it,” Fleuse slurred.

  “Someone has to bring you back, Fleusie! Why not me?”

  Fleuse shot a look of embarrassment in Trudel’s direction.

  “You move well, my man,” Pistache continued with a playful tone.

  Fleuse finally shook himself loose and gently pushed Pistache away. I noticed the stranger with the book watching in quiet amusement.

  “I don’t need the pick-me-up. I’m fine,” Fleuse said while still looking in Trudel’s direction. “I call diamonds.”

  “I have the two,” Trudel said.

  “Did you like my dancing?” Fleuse whispered to her.

  “You were hating it yourself in the moment,” she answered. “Now you are proud of it?”

  “Of course he’s proud,” Pistache interjected. “We were good together just now.”

  Fleuse shot him a disdainful look.

  “Who has the three?” I asked. No one answered.

  “How about the four?” Pistache added.

  Again, no one moved. We all looked at each other.

  “What happens if consecutive cards are in the blind?” I asked.

  “Then everyone takes a drink! Pistache!” Pistache yelled.

  “You’re making that up,” Trudel accused.

  “Yes, I am,” he finally admitted. “Are you not having fun?”

  “Yes, actually, I am.”

  “I knew it, Madame von Hugelstein,” Pistache said with a smirk.

  “But,” she added. “That doesn’t mean I find you at all funny!”

  Pistache brightened. He leaned toward her and threw his arm around her shoulder.

  “Madame von Hugelstein, I must tell you! I have met my match!” He laughed heartily and Trudel leaned away. His breath must have had a proof all its own.

  “Okay, that’s enough of that,” she said, grimacing. “You can get off me now.” She shrank from under his arm.

  “Sorry,” Pistache said with a smile more at Fleuse than Trudel as he took a sip of his drink. “Didn’t mean to move in on your girl.”

  “I’m not his girl,” Trudel reiterated.

  “She’s not,” Fleuse sighed.

  “Let’s have a break from the game,” I announced. “I feel like we are all going to be hurting tomorrow morning if we keep this pace up.”

  “Yes, I’m good with that,” Janie reinforced.

  Fleuse pushed the pile of cards in front of him back toward the group. I could tell he was in agreement.

  “It was just getting fun!” Pistache exclaimed.

  * * *

  Janie was alone at a table, scribbling on a napkin. She tends to log ideas the moment she gets them. It’s the curse of the artistic. Plus, I knew she needed to clear her head a little. The booze had twisted up everyone’s mind. Pistache is a dangerous game.

  Fleuse and Jacques were also back out at a table. I couldn’t hear them talking, but the conversation looked congenial enough. The stranger had not moved from his post with his book, so that left me alone at the bar with Trudel.

  “Is tonight turning out as you expected?” I asked.

  She thought for a moment. The liquor had opened her up a little bit. “Not exactly, but it’s going alright I suppose.”

  “That’s good to hear. So,” I switched gears, “you and Fleuse, huh?”

  “No! Of course not!” she exclaimed.

  “No, I know. You are clearly still in love with Victor. But, I meant that you used to date or something?”

  “It was a long time ago, and it didn’t mean anything.”

  �
��It seems to mean a little to him now.”

  “Perhaps it does,” she said with a short glance at him over her shoulder.

  “I guess it’s harmless,” I said.

  “But annoying,” she answered.

  “What did you think of my piano playing?”

  “Fine,” she replied, again without expression. “You should stick to writing the news.”

  “Well, I wouldn’t call it news. I’m usually assigned the most boring stuff. Actually, tonight has made me want to go and be a bartender again. I’m having a really good time.”

  “Like I said, you should stick to writing the news.”

  Taking advantage of the break in the action, the stranger among us approached the bar.

  “I see that this might be a good time to get another drink,” he said, smiling.

  “Why’s that?” Trudel asked, barely looking up.

  “That game seems to have died down a bit, and the bartender doesn’t seem too busy,” he replied.

  “Absolutely, sir. What’ll it be?” I answered.

  “Another of the same, please.”

  Following the lead of the stranger, Janie and Pistache were slowly moving back in the direction of the bar. Fleuse remained at the table, lost in his glass.

  “You know,” I said to the stranger. “We very well may begin another round of the game here. Would you like us to deal you in this time?”

  He smiled. “No, it looks full to me.”

  “Are you sure? It’s a made-up game. I’m sure we could find a way to include you,” I said with a nod in Pistache’s direction.

  “Don’t look at me,” the street performer said with a smile. “The game came through me! I was merely a conduit of the drinking-card-game fates!”

  “No, thank you anyway,” the stranger said pleasantly. “I was having a fine time just observing.”

  I went to work on the man’s second drink. Alcohol was slowing the bartending. Funny.

  “So!” Pistache began as he threw his arms into the air. “Tell us, my friend. What brings you in tonight?”

  The stranger looked to Pistache. “Well, I wanted a drink. I happened to see this place as I was walking by. It looked as good a spot as any.”

  “Well, you couldn’t have chosen better, my friend. What are you reading?”