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"Fine," Vic said, studying his marc jacobs sale hand.
"When he says 'fine,'" Ragle said, "it means he's got nothing.
"I've noticed that," Junie said. "And when he throws down his cards and walks away from the table, it means he's got four of a kind."
At the moment he felt a little like leaving the table; the lasagne and caf?espresso had been too much for him, and inside him the compound -- that and his dinner -- had begun to act up. "Maybe I have four of a kind now," he said.
"You look pale," Margo said. To Ragle she said, "Maybe he does have jordan shoes."
"More like the Asian flu," Vic said. Pushing his chair back he got to his feet. "I'll be right back. I'm not out. Just getting something to calm my stomach."
"Oh dear," Junie said. "He did eat too much; you were right, Margo. If he dies it's my fault."
"I won't die," Vic said. "What'll I take?" he asked his wife. As mother of the household she was in charge of the medicines.
"There's some Dramamine in the medicine cabinet," she answered, preoccupied, discarding two cards. "In the bathroom."
"You don't take tranquilizers for _indigestion_, do you?" Bill Black demanded, as he left the room and started down the hall. "Boy, that is carrying it too far."
"Dramamine isn't a tranquilizer," Vic answered, half to himself. "It's an anti-motion pill."
"Same thing," Black's voice came to him, along the hall, following after him as he entered the bathroom.
"Same thing hell," Vic said, his indigestion making him surly. He groped above him for the light cord.
Margo called, "Hurry on back, dear. How many cards for you? We want to play; you're holding us up."
"All right," he muttered, still groping for the light cord. "I want three cards," he called. "It's the top three on my hand."
"No," Ragle called. "You come back and pick them. Otherwise you'll claim we got the wrong marc jacobs handbags sale."
He still had not found the light cord that dangled in the darkness of the bathroom. His nausea and irritation grew, and he began thrashing around in the dark, holding up both arms, hands together with thumbs extended and touching; he rotated his hands in a wide circle. His head smacked against the corner of the medicine cabinet and he cursed.
"Are you okay?" Margo called. "What happened?"
"I can't find the light cord," he said, furious now, wanting to get his pill and get back to play his hand. The innate propensity of objects to be evasive... and then suddenly it came to him that there was no light cord. There was a switch on the wall, at shoulder level, by the door. At once he found it, snapped it on, and got his bottle of pills from the marc jacobs sale handbags. A second later he had filled a tumbler with water, taken the pill, and come hurrying out of the bathroom.