The Ultimate Bet

Jim awoke standing, refreshed, shaved and showered. He was dressed in tan slacks, a comfortable light blue shirt, and his favorite pair of brown loafers.

He scanned the room. It was a replica of where he played in his Friday night game. The custom-made mahogany poker table was in the center of a large walnut-paneled basement with an entertainment center to its right and a well-stocked bar and buffet on its left. In the rear of the basement, flames flickered in a stone fireplace.

From behind him, he heard the devil. “I thought you’d feel more comfortable in familiar surroundings.”

Jim spun around. “Nice of you,” he said to Ignis, who was in a well-fitted, black double-breasted suit, bright white shirt, and a flaming red tie that matched the kerchief in his breast pocket. Jim thought he looked like a funeral director.

The devil smiled. “Not a very complimentary thought.”

“What’s that?”

“You were thinking that I looked like a funeral director.”

Jim frowned. “You said there’d be no—”

The devil held up his hands. “I know. I know. And I meant it. That’s the last bit of mind reading until the game is over.”

He gestured to the table. “Please have a seat. Any-thing to drink or eat?”

Jim shook his head as he sat in a high-backed soft brown leather chair at the table.

“Nothing right now. Maybe later.”

Poker chips were neatly stacked in front of him and directly across the table, where the devil took his seat. Three decks of cards were on the side of the table.