“Dis true?”

“No. He’s only got two of ‘em, an he just flashed his Queen to pick up an Ace.”

It is true. Cheating is hard to pull off in Taipei Twostep, thus the game’s preference among a group where no one trusts the other. Therefore, an accusation of cheating, a convincing one at that, is even more difficult to pull off.

The pink-suited man laughs at this realization, but this does nothing to calm down the foreigner, menacingly darting his eyes between the driver and the pink-suited man. He thinks the latter is laughing at him. He grips his fingers at the felt, clawing at nothing in particular, and half-rises in his seat. The chairs are so heavy that they take some effort if someone wishes to jump out of one. The driver figures they would make lethal, if unwieldy, weapons; if that’s what the situation comes down to. The man in the pink suit is now standing, though one could be forgiven for thinking he was still seated.

“O-kay. Why don’t ever-ee-one count up what dey got.”

The driver feels on an instinctual level that this is a bad idea, at least in front of all these men. He gathers the bills before him on the table, but doesn’t bother to count as he folds them into a single roll. He starts peeling back some ‘ones’ but is surprised by the number of ‘fives’ and even a ‘ten’ or two gathered in the mix. As confirmation of this unexpected windfall, the driver’s pocket feels heavier than it did before, once he has slipped the bulk of cash into it.

No one is leaving, or even making their way for the doors, though they have been cracked open slightly. The smoke is thick enough at this point so that the driver cannot see to the other side of the room, save for the slight beam of casino light coming through the doors. The smell is still bad, but has taken on the kind of staleness that allows one to pass it off as a remnant odor, even if it is as strong as ever.

The driver decides to lead the way, disregarding whether the hitchhiker follows or not. The fidgety passenger had become so lost in the game -not just in the rapid-fire trumps and losses but in every gesture and groan from every player, especially his bald-headed friend- that the driver figures he is no longer his consignment. Stealing off towards the door, the driver could safely leave him behind, absorbed as he is, here in his element. Then he feels the claw cupped over his entire shoulder.