Американские боги

           Therewereothermen,youngermenofaboutHarryBluejay’sage,waitingfortheirturnatthepooltable.Itwasafull-sizedpooltable,andaripinthegreenbaizeononesidehadbeenrepairedwithsilver-grayducttape."Igotamessagefromyouruncle,"saidChapman,unfazed."Hesaysyou’retogivethesetwoyourcar."

           Theremusthavebeenthirty,maybeevenfortypeopleinthathall,andnowtheywereeveryoneofthemlookingintentlyattheirplayingcards,ortheirfeet,ortheirfingernails,andpretendingashardastheycouldnottobelistening.

           "He’snotmyuncle."

           Acigarette-smokefughungoverthehalllikeacirruscloud.Chapmansmiledwidely,displayingtheworstsetofteeththatShadowhadseeninahumanmouth."Youwanttotellyourunclethat?Hesaysyou’retheonlyreasonhestaysamongtheLakota."

           "WhiskeyJacksaysalotofthings,"saidHarryBluejay,petulantly.ButhedidnotsayWhiskeyJackeither.Itsoundedalmostthesame,toShadow’sear,butnotquite:Wisakedjak,hethought.That’swhatthey’resaying.NotWhiskeyJackatall.

           Shadowsaid,"Yeah.Andoneofthethingshesaidwasthatwe’retradingourWinnebagoforyourBuick."

           "Idon’tseeaWinnebago."

           "He’llbringyoutheWinnebago,"saidJohnChapman."Youknowhewill."

           HarryBluejayattemptedatrickshotandmissed.Hishandwasnotsteadyenough.