Minimalist Gossip Magazine Cover (49).pdf (23) - Flipbook - Page 71
THAT CHEEKY CUNT
by Mathew Gostelow
His mouth ran fast. Yapping. Loud, non-stop to draw a crowd. His hands moved fast
too. But not fast enough to beat me. I play the markets for a living. Nobody gets to
mug me off. Definitely not some lanky cunt with ripped jeans and fuck-ruffle hair. He
never should have set up where he did, on a corner in The City just yards from the
exchange. Us traders were always gonna take him for everything. You can’t bullshit
a bullshitter.
I’m a stock broker. Old school, from before you needed a degree to do this shit. Sell
ice to an eskimo? That’s easy for me, son. I chat patter that would make a turkey pay
for Christmas. Got rich doing that too. So I watched him play a couple of games, this kid.
He was pretty good. The hustle is even more old school than I am. Green baize foldaway
table. A few beaten up playing cards. Three card monte. Find the lady, you’d call it. King
of Spades, King of Clubs, Queen of Hearts. All you have to do is find that red queen and
the cash is yours. He’s putting down a hundred quid against your fifty. One-in-three
chance, that’s what it looks like. But anyone who’s clever knows you don’t play the odds,
you play the man. And I know this fucking kid's game. It’s all about controlling my
attention. He wants to shift my focus. Make me lose track. Bamboozle and distract with
words and moves. But I'm wise to him.
So I pull one of the fifties out of my wallet, put it down, and he goes into it. The whole
routine. He’s showing the cards face up, flipping them, showing me how he’s gonna mix
them up, showing me the shuffles and shifts. It’s me against him now. My focus versus
his distraction. And all the time I’m watching the back of that red queen.
He’s talking to the crowd, lifting cards, putting them down again. Pointing, always
pointing. That’s the oldest trick in the book. You watch a magician with cards and coins
and that prick is always pointing. See, your eye is gonna want to follow their finger. The
trick is to never look where they point. Stay intent. Stay focused.
I never took my eyes off that red queen. Not once. He’s pointing and asking me
questions. That’s another weapon they use - questions. They ask a bloke a question,
and nine times out of ten he’s gonna meet their eye. It’s human nature. And that’s
when they make the switch. But my eyes never left that table. Not for half a second.
Through every mix of the cards. Through all that kid’s patter and questions. Through all
the whooping and noise of the crowd that’s gathering around us. I burnt that queen with
Superman lasers the whole fucking time.
So he gets to the end of his routine and says,
“Which card, old man?” Cheeky cunt. I go to touch the card in the middle and he grabs
my wrist and says,
“Wait a second, old man. I’ll give you one chance to change your mind.” Change my
mind? This fucking kid. Another hustle. But I'm not taking my eyes off those cards. And
now I know for sure I’ve got him scared. So I go ahead and turn it.
Boom! I found the red queen. I hustled the hustler. And the kid’s grin melts and the
crowd is cheering for me. And I’m picking up the cash and putting three crisp fifties
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