Jazz Baby Read Online Free Page B

attracted by the ‘Come in Spinner’ call, he headed out the back. The last time he could remember playing two-up was on the ship coming home and the loud groans and shrieks as the coins fell reminded him of more optimistic times.
    This place was nothing like the swanky green baize of Millie’s tables — where wads of pound notes replaced the pennies and there wasn’t a whiff of the rotgut Susie served. French champagne and Johnnie Walker for Millie’s patrons, nothing but the best. Although this side of town gave him a strange comfort: at least when he lost his money it might find its way back to someone who needed it.
    He hovered behind the crush of men ringing the sheet of canvas spread on the ground and waited for a space. Sooner rather than later one of the gamblers would stomp away with a raging thirst brought about by guilt, his empty pockets, and the prospect of facing his wife and kids when he got home. Jack didn’t have to wait long.
    â€˜Ssall yours. Bunch of bloody sharks. Game’s fixed.’ The bloke rammed his cloth cap on his head and wiped a weary hand over his bloodshot eyes.
    â€˜Thanks, mate.’ Jack eased his way into the group. The circle of men craned forwards around the canvas as the Spinner raised the kip and gave it a toss. The two pennies twisted and twirled, the golden side with the sovereign’s head twinkling in contrast to the blackened tail.
    Silence fell as the Ring Keeper stared up, checking the height of the toss for a foul. ‘Throw’s clean.’ The coins hit the sheet with a thud and he leant over and made the call. ‘Heads.’
    A mixture of groans and hoots ran around the circle as money changed hands and the punters searched their pockets for their next bet.
    Wrapping his fingers around a handful of coins in his pocket Jack pulled them out and held his arm high, waiting to catch the eye of the Boxer who was busy taking bets. A couple of blokes in front of him turned and pushed their way past, leaving him at the edge of the tattered canvas.
    The Boxer approached and tilted his chin. ‘What’s your bet, mate?’
    Jack took one step forwards. A grimy hand reached out from the overly long sleeves of the Boxer’s battered greatcoat and rested heavily against his chest.
    â€˜Stay out of the circle.’
    Jack opened his palm and held out the coins.
    â€˜Flush tonight, hey?’
    The jibe riled him and he stared at the Boxer, the wide brim of his battered hat hiding his eyes. ‘What’s it to you? Taking my bet or not?’
    He lifted his head and squinted at him, one eye socket horribly disfigured and the other a bright shiny reminder of what he’d lost. Clear and bright as the winter skies over Wollombi. Clear and bright as the eyes that had defied him earlier in the evening. His stomach churned and he clamped his palm closed.
    â€˜Changed your bloody mind? Haven’t got all night.’
    Jack swallowed, his mouth as dry as a vicar’s birthday party and a shiver of horror sliced through him. ‘Ted?’
    The Boxer dropped his head, shielding his face, and pushed Jack’s outstretched hand away before disappearing into the crowd on the other side of the circle.
    â€˜Ted!’ Jack rammed the coins back into his pocket and stepped onto the mat, intent on following. A burly figure with bunched arm muscles that stretched the rolled-up sleeves of his shirt blocked his path.
    â€˜Out of the bloody circle.’ He gave Jack a hefty push and turned his back on him. ‘All bets done. Come in Spinner.’
    With the two-up cry echoing in his ears Jack forced his way through the crowd, determined to catch up with the Boxer and see if he’d been dreaming. A scuffed brown boot stretched out in front of him. He toppled and landed flat on his face. The menacing eyes of the mob of aggressive drunks glared down at him.
    â€˜Goin’ somewhere?’
    â€˜In a