Poker Night
The apartment was ready. It was a two bedroom apartment, since Droog never knew when his family would pop in to visit, with a living room, full kitchen, and full bathroom. It was decorated in old style with heavy wooden furniture he had scrapped toegther from thrift shops and repaired himself. Yeah, he had enough money in the bank to just buy whatever, but the process of varnishing and re-apolstering felt right, like he was taking care of something that would last him. Besides, Dan didn't like to wave his cash around.
The living room had no television nor couch. There was a four to five person round table with chairs, a modest bar cart, bookshelves used for various storage, and some black-and-white photos on the walls. Tonight the table had a green felt cover on it, poker chips, and an ashtray made of thick clear glass. The lighting was low, the stereo was playing some old jazz, and Dan Droog felt pretty excited about his poker night. It was a $50 buy in, and the person with the most chips at the end of the night would take it all.
He was dressed to kill: sharp navy blue slacks, black leather oxford shoes, a white button up, vest to match his slacks, and no tie. His dark chest hair started to peek out from his undershirt for just the right amount of machismo. He had left the stubble but combed his hair. Yeah. He looked good. The well-tailored outfit made him thin like a knife, like one of the men his father worked with.
There was a knock at the door.
