Windfall (standard:Suspense, 3288 words)
Author: Anthony R Mackie	Added: Dec 08 2008	Views/Reads: 3929/2265	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
A poker player receives a huge slice of luck just when he needs it most, and from an unexpected source.

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story

a little more aggressively in the next round in an effort to build up 
his chip stack and to avoid being tagged as a weak player who would 
then be targeted by the “chip bullies” and hounded out of the game. 

No matter, the first evening had gone to plan and after a couple of
vodkas in the Casino bar, he took a steady stroll back to the hotel and 
slept soundly.  It was 11am before Del Boy awoke the next morning 
(which was extremely late for him as he usually got by on 5/6 hours a 
night).  “Must be the mental strain of the playing poker taking it out 
of me” he thought to himself as he started to run a hot bath.  No point 
rushing now he thought, as he had already missed breakfast and may as 
well have a large lunch a little later; he might even give the hotel 
restaurant a try. 

A couple of hours later, as he made his way into the surprisingly quiet
restaurant, a huge (and shall we say a well-rounded) guy whom he 
recognised from the tournament, waved him over and invited him to join 
him at his table.  This was not really Del Boy's scene as he preferred 
to keep himself to himself but on this occasion he wasn't sharp enough 
to think up a plausible excuse and just found himself having to accept 
the offer and sit down.  Just to make matters worse, the big guy was 
French (not Del´s favourite race of people) and introduced himself as 
François before beginning to make small talk in what was annoyingly bad 
English even for a Frenchman.  “The day can only get better” thought 
Del Boy as he began to survey the menu. 

Having ordered sirloin steak, chips and peas (which arrived in record
time probably due to the lack of punters), Del Boy began to tuck in 
hungrily whilst trying to make sense of what “Fats” (Del´s new nickname 
for his French friend) at the other side of the table was talking 
about. 

François didn't order any food (although by the amount of empty plates
on the table it looked like he had already consumed about half of the 
dishes on the menu!) so he was just sat nursing a coffee and a huge 
glass of brandy. 

The tournament was touched upon in conversation and it sounded to Del as
if “Fats” fancied his chances of picking up some money.  Having said 
this, he did mention being wary of a couple of the Yanks who were 
involved; for his part, Del Boy just kept quiet on how he thought his 
own chances were.  It was always better to keep them guessing... 

Eventually, François excused himself and left to “see some people” - but
not before inviting Del to a drink that evening after the game.  Del 
Boy decided immediately that he would do everything in his power to 
body swerve that particular invitation as he figured he had already 
spent more than enough time listening to François's “Frenglish” for one 
day. 

That evening, the poker was more intense as a few nerves began to show
and Del Boy thanked his luck as he picked up some great hands which, 
but for on the odd occasion, he played perfectly.  After around 3½ 
hours, it was over and Del had made it!  He was mentally drained but he 
was into the final evening and now he began to fancy his chances a 
little bit. 

As Del sat at the table and tried to calm himself, down came a huge
chubby hand which slapped him on the back and a voice said “come about 
and join le gang for the drink Môn ami” - no need to guess who – 
François!  Del Boy wondered what he had done so wrong in a past life to 
deserve this.  At the bar, it seemed as though most of the players 
through to the last 18 had gathered to celebrate, save for the 
obligatory few loners of which he would have preferred to be one at 
this present moment in time.  Instead, he drank his vodka while 
listening to “Fats” trying to converse with some German guy who, 
although possessing good English seemed to think he was some kind of 
comedian, Del Boy personally found him about as funny as toothache.  
Fatigue hit him after his second drink so he intended to put his glass 
down and just sort of slope off but François was too quick for him and 
suggested that they wander back to the hotel together. 

Del Boy had to suffer the Frenchman right up to the point when he opened
the door to his room because as luck would have it, François's room was 
on the same floor and only two doors away.  Even so by the time Del 
closed his door, he had already developed a pounding headache and 
couldn't wait to fall into bed. 

The next morning at 10-30am, Del Boy popped his head into the hotel
breakfast room and on spotting François, popped it quickly out again 
before deciding to have a wander around and find himself a nice little 
“greasy spoon café” where he could eat without interruption.  After 
enjoying a full English at the somewhat cornily named “Eatwell Café”, 
Del thought he may as well do a bit of sightseeing for a few hours as 
his visits into the capital these days were limited; and if nothing 
else, it would keep him out of the Frenchman's way until later. 

Arriving back at the hotel mid-afternoon, Del was relieved to see no
sign of “Fats” and made his way to his room for a “siesta” as it could 
be a long night later; at least he hoped it would be. 

Rested, showered and feeling refreshed, Del Boy headed down to the
restaurant around 6.30pm.  François was there but was holding court at 
a table with three other guys, so Del simply returned the Frenchman's 
wave and chose himself a table as far away as possible.  Not being 
superstitious, he surprised himself by ordering exactly the same meal 
as the previous afternoon but supposed it couldn't do any harm - what 
the hell, maybe he just liked steak, chips and peas!  Unfortunately for 
him though, just as Del Boy swallowed his last mouthful of food, “Fats” 
appeared - already sweating with excitement - and informed him that 
they may as well make their way to the casino together.  Del just 
nodded in agreement; there was no point doing otherwise. 

A while later once they had arrived at the casino; you could feel the
tension in the air.  This was the big one and Del Boy couldn't wait to 
get started.  He and “Fats” had been drawn to start on different tables 
so at least that was a result to Del, for now.  Play began on time as 
usual and about an hour in, Del Boy's table was down to six players - 
the other table having lost two men, one of them being the German guy.  
Unfortunately, the other eliminated player wasn't “Fats” who was still 
there, now sweating profusely and drinking Jack Daniels like it was 
going out of fashion.  Things had gone well for Del Boy up to this 
point and comparing his chip stack to others around him, he was a 
favourite to make the final table; he just needed to keep it tight and 
concentrate.  Finally, after another nervous 45 minutes or so, the 
counter on the wall clicked down from 10 to 9 as another player bit the 
dust and Del had made the final table.  He was delighted and looking 
forward to the half hour break, while the officials set up the last 
table including the £250k stack of cash in bundles of crisp £20 notes. 

As the nine men gathered at the final table and seating order was
decided, Del Boy looked around and surveyed the opposition.  Besides 
himself and François (who by now looked shattered), there were two 
Americans, a couple of shady-looking Chinese and three others who were 
probably British or maybe Scandinavian, he couldn't be sure.  Chip 
stacks were carried forward from previously and as they were seated, 
Del Boy couldn't help but notice that his stack looked pretty healthy; 
all he needed now were the cards to play it with. 

As midnight came and went, they were down to six players; having lost
one of the Chinese, one American and another guy who turned out to be 
Swedish.  The very next hand took out two more when the remaining Yank 
went “all in” before the river card and was called by another 
Scandinavian and an English fellow.  The Yank had been holding a 
straight flush which was enough to clean out the other two and also 
gave him a massive chip advantage over the three remaining players, Del 
Boy, François and the Chinese guy. 

Half an hour later came Del´s moment of truth as he was dealt a pair of
kings and after a round of betting came; the first three table cards 
(the Flop) which were jack, seven and king.  Del Boy raised the stakes 
(needing only another jack to be one of the final two cards).  This 
next round is known as the Turn (followed by the final round of betting 
- the River) and so for him to obtain a jack, he would have a full 
house so he felt pretty confident about the 3 of kind he was already 
holding. 

“USA” folded (followed by “China”) but “Fats” called Del and so the Turn
card was dealt: a five - no use to Del Boy but by the same token he 
figured, it was probably no use to François either.  Del Boy “checked” 
which signified no bet and “Fats” did the same.  “He's got nothing” Del 
thought to himself as the River card was turned, a jack!  A full house 
for Del Boy and so, as quick as a flash, he bet “all in” but to his 
amazement, François called him and as the Frenchman turned over his 
cards, Del´s world collapsed; a pair of jacks had given “Fats” four of 
a kind, which is virtually unbeatable and so was certainly too good for 
his full house. 

Del Boy instinctively had wanted to kill the fat Frenchmen but deep
down, he knew he had made the mistake of totally overlooking the chance 
of four of a kind being on the table.  After playing so well all week, 
he had made a classic schoolboy error and so it had cost him £5k and 
the chance of winning a hell of a lot more.  As he stood up and left 
the game he glared at “Fats” but the Frenchman (to his credit) was 
certainly not gloating.  Del couldn't even watch the conclusion of the 
game and just headed off to the bar to drown his sorrows. 

A short time later the game was over; the American took first place with
François finishing second and the Frenchman headed straight to where 
Del Boy was standing and insisted on buying him a drink.  Del had 
imagined that should this happen, he would tell “Fats” to “go f*** 
himself”.  However, a couple of vodkas and time to think had calmed him 
down and confirmed to him that he only had himself to blame, so he 
accepted the Frenchman's offer and congratulated him on his new found 
wealth.  Del Boy wondered how he had managed to do so well, as it 
seemed to him that the Frenchman was extremely drunk.  This was proved 
around half an hour later when “Fats” fell over and had to be bundled 
into a cab and despatched back to the hotel.  “Some lucky cabbie is in 
for the tip of his life tonight” thought Del as he returned to his 
drink. 

It was well into the early hours before Del Boy finished up drinking and
wandered the short distance back to the Shaftsbury.  As he made his way 
along the landing towards his room, Del Boy noticed that the door to 
“Fats” room was slightly ajar.  “Probably too rat-arsed to close it” 
thought Del as he tapped lightly on the door and called out the 
Frenchman's name.  There was no reply even to his second knock, so Del 
Boy gingerly pushed open the heavy door and to his relief there was the 
fat man slumped on the bed surrounded by his winnings.  The initial 
relief soon left him though as he realised something was not quite 
right and then it hit him!  It was far too quiet; a drunken man snores 
and that's a fact of life but this one wasn't snoring - in fact, as Del 
Boy approached the bed, he discovered he wasn't even breathing. 

As reality dawned on Del Boy, he started to smile.  There was no sign of
any foul play whatsoever; “Fats” had simply overdone it and had 
suffered a heart attack he reckoned so was now laying in front of him, 
dead as a dodo amongst all that lovely money!  Del moved swiftly as it 
dawned on him that no one would ever know he had been in this room, so 
he grabbed an empty carrier bag from the floor, stuffing it full of the 
wonderful bundles of cash.  Once he had gathered up every single 
banknote, Del Boy decided he may as well just check “Fats´” pockets as 
well, seeing as nothing was of any use to him anymore.  This little 
exercise turned up some more cash and a solid gold “Dunhill” cigarette 
lighter which Del Boy decided was a “nice little bonus” before finally 
slipping the nice chunky Rolex watch from the Frenchman's nice chunky 
wrist. 

Del Boy stopped short of pilfering François's diamond rings, mainly
because they looked like they had been put on before he became so 
bloated, and the only way they were coming off now would be with 
fingers attached. 

As he was about to exit from the door, Del Boy turned to survey the
scene; it was just an overweight Frenchman who had collapsed and died 
when his overstressed heart had given up on him, perfect.  He gently 
clicked the door closed and genuinely hoped it would not be too late 
the following day before “Fats” was discovered.  He meanwhile, would be 
long gone. 

Del Boy was shaking as he made the few steps to his own room, with
excitement more than anything, as the events of the last half an hour 
or so were going to change his life for the better and it was all 
thanks to a Frenchman too; what a turn up for the books that was!  He 
quietly unlocked the door to his room and stepped inside closing it 
behind him, before tipping out the contents of the grubby plastic 
supermarket bag onto the bed.  Del Boy poured himself a drink from the 
mini bar, made himself comfortable and started to count. 


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