2. Inside the House

In the dark, another world...

Henry stumbled in the dark, in a world devoid of meaning.  He had lost something, something precious he couldn’t afford to lose.  But what was it?

A voice spoke, whispering in the dark.  “Welcome, sir.”

Henry blinked. 

He was in the lobby of a hotel room.

“Welcome sir, it’s a pleasure to have you join us,” said the bell-hop taking Henry’s overcoat.  The bellhop wore a red uniform jacket and a broad smile.

Music pulsed from the ballroom to their right; a honky-tonk piano played Hey Jude in ragtime while the people danced, their arms flailing about in ecstasy.  He had the temptation to join them.  He felt like dancing forever to the tune of that piano and its song.

The bellhop tapped him on the shoulder and gestured to Henry’s left. “Your table is this way. They’re expecting you.” 

Henry followed the bellhop, admiring the red carpet, the glowing amber-lighted crystal chandeliers, the elegant impressionistic paintings on the walls.  Finally, the hall opened up to a large room with a single, circular table seating a finely dressed assortment of people.  A princely dressed man in a gold-fringed blue jacket stood and walked over to greet him.

“Henry! You’ve finally arrived,” said the princely man. “We’ve been expecting you.  Are you alright?”

Henry closed his eyes and pressed his knuckles to his temple. What was the man's name? Ah, yes, that’s right, he thought.

“I’m fine, thanks, Mr. Vanderbilt,” said Henry. “It’s just jet lag.  I see you haven't started the game without me.”

Mr. Vanderbilt smiled widely.  Then, gesturing toward the cards and the table behind him, he said, “How could we begin without the honor of our distinguished guest?”

Mr. Vanderbilt snapped a finger and a waiter pulled chairs and seated them together at the table. There were eight players at the table, but Henry only seemed to be able to make out two of them clearly.  The others were fuzzy, but Henry gave it no importance. 

They were a pudgy man with round cheeks and a crooked horn for a nose, and an old woman with a bejeweled butterfly brooch caught in the tangled bundle of her thin, white hair.

Mr. Vanderbilt produced a silver case, opened it, and placed a slender cigarette loosely between his lips.  “Mr. Brody,” said Vanderbilt lighting his cigarette. “Would you do us the honor of cutting the deck?  And then I think I’ll start as today’s dealer.” 

“But you dealt last time,” said Mr. Brody petulantly.  “It should be someone else’s turn. Why don’t you let Agnes or me… or even Henry to go first?”

Henry felt embarrassed to be put on the spot.  He thought that there was a great contrast between the composed and serious face of Mr. Vanderbilt and the childish way with which Mr. Brody had responded, and Henry couldn’t tell if he was joking.

“I believe that Henry will vouch for me,” said Vanderbilt. He shuffled the cards between his deft fingers as he spoke, the cigarette bouncing loosely on his lip. “It’s my turn to deal the cards, isn’t it?”

Henry flushed.  “Yes, of course Mr. Vanderbilt,” he said, trying to inject his voice with good humor and finding it difficult under Vanderbilt’s heavy gaze.  

Mr. Brody cut the deck reluctantly, eyeing Mr. Vanderbilt with mistrust.

Suddenly, a woman in a gallant red fox pelt took a chair at their table. 

“Lenore,” said Mr. Vanderbilt, grinning tightly. “You’ve come at the nick of time. I didn't think you would show.”

Lenore looked over the table with her nose pointed upwards, then scoffed. 

“Don’t be a fool, Van.  You wouldn’t dare start without me.”  She flipped her brilliant red and orange curls over her shoulder with a flick of her wrist and stared at Henry.  She studied him for long moment, meeting his own eyes evenly until he looked away. Then Lenore looked away and began lazily tapping her fingers on the edge of the table.

“Blinds are set at one and five hours, to increase every round in increments of days and weeks with a cap of five years,” Mr. Vanderbilt said, scratching his nose with the back of his palm; Henry could see the ghost of a scowl. 

Reviews

[Alex Cook]

You have a great imagination. I am enjoying your book very much.