3. Zero
3
ZERO
Six Months Ago
V oices filled the evening air, children complaining that they were cold while their parents scolded them for not wearing their mittens properly. Others laughed and cheered, taking in all the sights that New York had to offer in mid-January. In the city that never sleeps, there was always something going on. Some show to be seen, some food to be tasted, some music to be danced to.
That was the fun side of New York.
The other, much darker side was not so cheery and welcoming. It was in the dangers of the shadows where the more questionable deeds were done. Junkies turned to their dealers, hoping to score more crank, gangs walked the streets flexing their muscles and wreaking havoc on those that got in their way.
This was the side of New York that tourists feared to tread. With every great city comes a darker, more dangerous side to it. It was in this part of New York where Zero spent most of his life, honing his skills and learning tough life lessons. He had his father to thank for that.
“Who’s next?” Zero called out, looking up from his table into the smiling faces of tourists all around him. “Test your skills. Show me what you got! It’s easy. Follow the balls with your eyes, and if you can guess what cup the ball is under, you win! Only twenty dollars to play!”
Staring out at the faces, he watched the gamblers as they assessed their odds. There were three cups, all upside down. One ball that they had to follow as he shuffled the cups around. It wasn’t hard. You just had to be quick with your eyes.
“So, who do we got? Who’s got the balls and the talent to beat me at this game?” He knew that egging the gamblers on would give them the push that they needed to step forward and give him their money. With hardcore gamblers, it was their sense of pride that was always their undoing. Whenever they lost at a casino or card game, it was their wounded pride that always kept them betting more or pulling that lever one… last… time.
Yes, Zero knew how to work a man. Play on their weakness, stroke their ego, gain their confidence. He had his daddy to thank for that.
“Anyone?” Zero threw his hands up in the air, locking eyes with a cocky gentleman wearing a tanned trench coat and a five-thousand-dollar watch. “Does no one have the skills to challenge me and my swift hands?”
And there it was. That cocky smirk on the man’s face that told Zero he was going down. About to be beaten by a man who was smarter, faster, and more successful than he.
Poor chump.
“I’ll take you up on that,” the cocky man said, taking a step through the crowd and stopping right before his table.
“Finally! A man willing to test his skills and prove to the world how truly gifted he really is.” Zero gave him a wink as the cocky bastard smirked back at him.
The man pulled a twenty out of his wallet and handed it to Zero for safekeeping.
“You win this challenge, and you get back your twenty, plus twenty of my own,” Zero explained, loving the confidence oozing out of this guy.
“You can do it, honey!” a pretty blonde shouted over his shoulder.
Of course it was a blonde. This guy was so cliché. Zero couldn’t wait to beat this man and put him in his place.
He tucked the man’s twenty into the stack of twenties he already had, then gave the guy a smile of his own.
Holding the tiny plastic ball up to the crowd, he raised his hand, encouraging cheers from those gathered around. The more they participated, the more excited they got and believed that they had a chance at winning this simple game.
He placed the ball under the center cup and pressed play on the music app on his phone. Dance music played as he began moving the cups around on the black velvet cloth he had laid out on the table just for show.
Left and right, and around and around, he moved the cups at varying speeds.
The crowd shouted, cheering the cocky man on. This was the part he loved. The audience and the player all thinking that the game was so easy and the win was guaranteed.
After a minute, he stopped moving the cups and took a step back.
“Now, dear sir, please tell me which cup the ball is under?”
With a confident smirk, the man pointed to the cup on the left.
“Are you sure?” Zero asked, giving the man one more chance to change his mind.
“Yes. It’s under there, guaranteed.”
“Okay, if that’s your final guess.” Zero stepped forward and lifted the cup. The tiny white ball sat still, staring up at the cocky man declaring his victory over the simpleton cup man.
“Told you so. Now hand me my money.”
Saddened by his loss, Zero handed the man forty dollars.
“Hey, sometimes you win, sometimes you lose. Thanks for playin’, man.” Zero gave the man a wave as he walked off toward his wife.
“Told you that game was a cinch.”
Turning back to the eager crowd, he cheerfully asked who was next.
Two other players won, with a third failing to guess the correct cup. It was getting late and time to wrap up the game before the police stopped by and raided his gig. He didn’t exactly have a permit to be playing this little game out on the street. It was always a gamble. Some nights, he got caught and lost his earnings, and other nights, he made off with thousands of dollars.
He had played enough for tonight, and his take home was good enough.
“Okay, folks, it’s time to wrap up this gig. Thanks for playing, and I hope to see you out again tomorrow night!”
He was just about to start collecting his cups when a young girl, perhaps nine or ten, stepped up to the table and held out a twenty.
“Excuse me, sir, but can I give it a try?”
The tiny girl was so sweet and innocent-looking. Her big brown eyes were shy and bashful. Her hair was tied back in a ponytail with some red ribbon, no doubt saved from her mother’s sewing scraps.
Standing behind her, with a hand gently on the girl’s shoulder, was her mother. Her clothes were ratty and torn, and her hair was tied back in a messy bun.
Zero had seen families like these roaming about. Usually begging for money and trying to sell whatever homemade item they could to the tourists. It was folks like these who tugged at Zero’s heartstrings. They were the people who fell through the cracks of society, lost and abandoned. Not seen by those who had money and lives filled with busy schedules.
Glancing up at the young girl’s mother, Zero gave her a smile and a gentle nod.
“Sure thing, sweety. Do you know how to play the game?” Zero asked, bending down and looking at the girl eye to eye.
She nodded before placing her money down on the table.
“Well, it appears that we have another contender!” Zero shouted, standing up high and gathering as much attention as he could for the child. He wanted her to experience the laughter and joy of winning a game that was rigged from the beginning.
The young girl smiled, giving a jump as she waited for the game to begin.
Zero placed the ball under the center cup, then began moving the cups at a much slower speed than the games prior. Hey, she was a little girl, and he wanted to make sure that she won the game.
All around them, people cheered on the little girl. He tried not to involve children whenever possible, but tonight, there was no escaping the little girl’s request.
Slowing to a stop, Zero took a step back and motioned his hands over the cup.
“Now, brave child, can you tell me which of these cups is hiding the ball?”
Without hesitation, the girl pointed at the cup to the left. Zero smiled.
Slowly, he raised the cup and gasped in surprise.
“You won!” he cheered, glancing up at her mother with a bright smile. “I can’t believe you beat me at my own game!” He pulled forty dollars from his stack of twenties and gave the little girl her winnings.
The look on her face was worth the twenty-dollar loss. At least the money would go to good use. Even with the last-minute loss, he still made quite a bit of cash these past few hours.
Twenty minutes later, he was all packed up and on his way home when he decided to make a stop at a pub and grab a quick pint.
Halfway through his beer, a man stopped at his booth and stared.
“That was a pretty good show you put on earlier this evening.”
Zero glanced up at the man and nodded his thanks.
“Too bad I kept losing. At this rate, I’ll be broke by next week.” Zero looked away and took another sip of his beer.
“Yes, you suck at winning that game, but winning is not really the point, is it?”
Zero turned to face the man once again, watching him with suspicion. “How am I supposed to make any money if losing costs me twenty bucks each time? Seems pretty stupid to me.”
Nodding his head, the man slipped into the booth across from him and leaned forward to whisper.
“But you and I both know that you didn’t lose any money at all this evening, except perhaps to that kid. What was so special about that little kid?”
Zero leaned back, getting a little uncomfortable with the stranger’s line of questioning.
“I don’t know what you mean.” He studied the man carefully. He was around five foot eight, brown eyes with chestnut hair. There was an oddness about him, like he was calculating moves as they spoke. Was he a cop? But he didn’t carry himself like an officer.
Still, there was something about the man that he couldn’t quite put his finger on.
“The game with the cups is just for show. The real con happens with the dealing out of winnings,” the stranger said, eyes locked with his.
Zero remained silent. He wasn’t about to give anything away. If this guy really was a cop, he would have to prove that he ripped those guys off on his own. If he was just another jerk-off looking to shake him down, he had a knife to the gut coming for him.
“For every person who won, you gave them their winnings from the top of your pile of cash. When the little girl won, you pulled her winnings from the bottom.”
“So? What does that have to do with anything?” Zero asked, challenging the man to get to his point.
“While everyone was so busy looking at the cups and trying to figure out how they were going to beat you, they failed to notice that each time someone gave you their cash, you placed it at the bottom of your pile. My guess is that all the cash at the top of the pile were counterfeit bills. Therefore, no matter whether you won or lost, you always kept their cash.”
The little bastard.
Zero gave a smirk. “That’s an interesting theory, my friend."
"Please, call me Marc. So once again, I ask you, what was so special about that little girl that you actually paid her real cash as her winnings?”
Zero took another swig of his beer.
“I just don’t like ripping off innocent little kids.” That was all this stranger needed to know.
The man who introduced himself as Marc, leaned back in the booth and gave him a partial smile.
Leaning forward, Zero crossed his arms along the table, being sure to flex his bulging biceps for added intimidation.
“Now, how about you tell me what you really want?”