Playing Pretend by Cassie-Ann L. Miller

Thirty-Six

Liam

“Mr. Kline, your blind bet, sir,”the burly, bald dealer says.

My gaze cruises slowly around the table, sizing up my opponents in the dimly-lit room. After careful consideration, I toss forward a single hundred dollar chip.

Cannon throws his head back and chuckles. “Wow—you are such a fucking cheapskate, Liam. What’s a friendly game of poker if you’re not willing to lose a little money?”

I hawk, my eyes narrowed on him. “Friendly?”

Across the table, Xavier furrows his brow at me and grimaces as if I’ve offended his delicate feelings. “What? You don’t consider us ‘friends?”

So damn sensitive, that guy.

“Sure, I’d consider you losers ‘friends’ in the real world.” My nostrils flare. “But in here, you’re all just greedy assholes who want to take my money.”

Xavier shrugs in concession. “Well, I guess you’re right about that.” Knowing laughter rings out around the table.

Tonight, we’re in a private casino back room and I’m looking for the dopamine hit of making some fast cash off this bunch of self-made billionaires. The group of us don’t meet up all too often since our business pursuits keep us busy in different corners of the world but on the rare Saturday night that we’re all in Sin Valley at the same time, poker night is on!

There’s Cannon Kingston, a cocky, man bun-wearing hipster from Crescent Harbor who struck it big in the New York tech world. About two years ago, he ditched the tech scene to go back to small town Illinois, take over Kingston Realty Holdings—his family real estate company—and marry the love of his life. But as far as I’m concerned, the best thing Cannon ever did was introduce me to Frank Lawman. That legal shark was Cannon’s lawyer first before he came aboard to help with cleaning up my own legal messes.

Raphael Silver deals in precious metals and his work brings him all around the world. But home is in Reyfield, Illinois, with his charming wife and their twins. He was one of my first business mentors, one of the only people who’d take my calls before I was a ‘somebody’. I will forever be grateful to him for giving me the time of day when I was just a wannabe businessman.

Reuben Barre is from Reyfield, too. He joins us whenever his hippie-goddess-yoga-teacher wife agrees to let him out of their tantric sex dungeon. I may not share his lifestyle choices but I can admit that he might be onto something. The guy always looks well-rested, freshly-fucked and his aura stays gleaming like pixie dust. Anyway, he’s in the business of rescuing struggling small town companies and turning them into money-making machines.

Then there’s Xavier George Andrew Henry Cambridge of Ridgeland. King Xavier, if ya nasty. The man is straight-up European royalty. For reasons that are too long to get into here, he found himself in Copper Heights, Illinois a few years ago. He fell in love with a local girl and whisked her back to his kingdom across the Atlantic Ocean. But he makes sure to reach out to me whenever his royal duties bring him stateside.

With a buy-in of twenty grand to join our poker tournament, we keep the stakes high and the rookies at arm’s length. As much as I enjoy playing poker with Jace, Wyatt and Declan, sometimes a game with them feels like taking lunch money from kids on the playground. Now and then, I like going head-to-head with guys who can afford to get their asses kicked.

The businessmen chat about the projects they’ve been working on as the action moves around the table. Most of the guys call my bet. Xavier raises, and in the next round, a few fold. I lose nine-fifty on a shit hand and shrug it off, taking a deep swig of my whiskey.

“Look at that—No temper tantrum from Liam after losing some money,” Reuben observes. “That’s a first. Business must be going well.

I huff, amused. “Better and better every day,” I say with an arrogant lilt to my voice.

Raphael claps me heavily on the shoulder. “I hear congratulations are in order regarding the Varner Resorts project?”

He and I have discussed the resorts deal at length over the last few months. He knows how much I’ve wanted to secure the deal. How much I’ve wanted to beat Rocco Romano. Right now, victory is within reach and I’m preparing to dance over the grave of my rival’s fallen empire.

I decide to downplay my excitement, though. “With Varner being the way he is, I don’t want to get ahead of myself and celebrate until we’re hammering the last nail into the new building. But yes, as things stand, the resort project is coming to Sin Valley.” I feel my chest puffing up with pride when I say it.

I give the guys a quick rundown of the pending deal. I conveniently leave out the part where it was all contingent on me marrying a stranger and getting the local community center shut down. I try to brush those details under the rug.

When I’m done laying out my story, Reuben pipes up. “I never liked that guy.” He takes a gulp from his tumbler. “Never liked his vibe. He was always sort of ‘snake-y’ to me.”

With a scoff, I call his bet and raise. “He can be as snake-y as he wants. As long as he gives me his money.” I lift my shoulder and let it fall. Snickers rise up in the room.

Xavier leans back with cautious eyes. “No, but seriously, though. Sometimes, you’ve got to choose quality over quantity when it comes to these deals. You don’t want to get in bed with any old viper who comes around. Some people are just rotten, y’know?” He lays down another chip.

I let that comment slide. I don’t want to think about anything going wrong with this project. I can’t. I’ve poured too much into it.

The dealer moves on to the next round, and the stakes grow higher with each play.

After Reuben’s whiny ass loses three grand, he pushes back from the table. “This shit is rigged. I’m sitting the next one out.”

I laugh and take a sip of my whiskey. “Oh come on. Don’t be a punk. We’re doing you a favor. The sooner I beat your ass and take your money, the sooner you can go home crying to your wife. I’m sure she’ll be happy to stroke your bruised ego.”

“What my wife strokes is none of your business, you bastard. Stay out of my bedroom and stay out of my pockets.” His deeply offended frown has me laughing.

It takes some more coaxing on my part, but eventually, Reuben reluctantly decides to take another shot.

Cannon’s attention focuses on me, and at first, I think he’s trying to assess my hand. Until he says what’s on his mind. “All joking aside, you look…happier, Kline,” he says slowly, like the words freak him out. “Are you going through something, man?”

“He’s right,” Raphael agrees. “You’re less of an asshole tonight.”

“What do you mean?” I ask, acting aloof.

Reuben joins the teasing. “You’re smiling, and you haven’t once tried to fling chips at my face.”

“Yet,” I growl, but it has no bite. It dissolves into a chuckle.

“Holy fuck. It laughs, too?” Xavier questions.

“Keep it up, and I’ll be laughing when I take all your money home,” I say, smirking at my hand. It’s a good one, but the bet is still climbing. There’s no pot limit for our poker games, and at this stage of the night, it’s getting harder to say who’s bluffing and who has decent cards. You fold this late in the night, and you’re a goddamn coward.

“Seriously though,” Xavier says, pausing to flick the corner of his cards. “You’re almost bearable to be around now. New love in your life, I’m assuming?”

I shake my head, stubbornly trying to put Eliza out of my thoughts. “Nah. It’s not like that.” Definitely not love.

Raphael watches me out of the corner of his eye. “For as long as you’ve been single, you might as well just give up now and join a monastery.”

One side of my mouth swings into a smile. “I never said I wasn’t having sex.”

In fact, I recently had the best damn sex of my life, thank you very much. No current plans to do it again but still, it’s got to count for something.

Xavier nods his head slowly. “So…no-strings sex, huh? All along, that was what you were needing to turn that ugly frown of yours upside down?” He reaches out and roughly pinches my cheek. “If I had known that, I would have made you a profile on CheekyChat a long time ago.”

I shudder.

CheekyChat is the hook-up app all the single losers in the tri-state area use to get their dicks wet. Membership on the site should come with a shot of penicillin and a coupon for itch cream.

“Presumptions, presumptions.” I smirk. “I also never said my ‘situation’ was no-strings…” Call me a man of mystery.

Cannon eyeballs me suspiciously from over his cards. “What exactly are you up to, Liam?”

“Let me just say from the outset that if it’s going to involve you needing bail money down the line, I can’t get involved.” Reuben throws up his hands. “My cash is tied up in the market.”

I roll my eyes. He is the cheapskate in this group. “Calm down, boys. It’s nothing illegal.” Normally, I wouldn’t go spilling the beans on this but the only people I’ve confided in since this whole mess with Eliza started has been my brothers and they’ve been absolutely useless in the advice department. Maybe it’s time to turn elsewhere for an opinion or two.

“I’m a married man,” I tell them. “Technically. I found myself in a bit of a sticky situation. I had to marry my way out of it.”

When I say that, Xavier leans forward in his seat, eager for the gossip. “Start talking, bro.”

I get deep into the details, telling the guys about the circumstances that ended with me, asking my secretary for her hand in holy matrimony. When I’m done with the story, I sit back, waiting for their scolding, over-the-top reactions.

I get nada. That’s surprising.

“What’s that look on your face?” Xavier asks, boredly shuffling his cards.

“I expected you guys to start giving me shit,” I confess.

Cannon shrugs. “It’s a marriage of convenience. My marriage started out as a marriage of convenience. Turned out to be the best thing that ever happened to me.”

Raphael nods sagely. “Every relationship has it’s own unique twist. Just because yours starts out a little sketchy doesn’t mean it won’t work in the end.”

“Yup.” Reuben bobs his head. “Mine started up sketchy as fuck. Bless my wife for being the compassionate soul she is. Some other woman would have kicked my ass.”

Xavier laughs. “Sadie was my neighbor at a shitty apartment above a pest-infested fried chicken joint when we met,” he supplies. “She was naked and covered in hair dye and depilatory cream the first time she burst into my apartment. Now, I’ve married the fuck out of her and made her the queen of a small nation. Literally.”

“I omitted some pretty important tidbits about myself from Isla when we met,” Reuben admits with a guilty look.

Raphael scoffs. “You think that’s bad? I married my best friend’s daughter. I won’t even get into details about how that started.”

Cannon leans an elbow on the table. “I’d say keep an open mind. As long as this wife of yours isn’t in it for your money—”

“Eliza isn’t like that,” I bark before he can even finish his sentence. The woman demanded multiple six-figures in order to marry me, yet for some stupid reason, I just know in my fucking soul that she’s a good person.

“Wow! Adamantly defending her virtue?” Raphael nags. “This playboy must be in love.” He smacks me on the shoulder.

Again, I roll my eyes.

Dear god—Eliza’s constant eye-rolling is rubbing off on me.

“It’s just sex, boys. You remember what that is, don’t you?”

Cannon laughs in my face. “You care about this girl. It’s written all over your face.”

I take a second to think about it. A bucket of realization pours over me. Oh, shit.

“Guys, it looks like he’s having a medical situation over there,” Reuben jokes. “Should we call the paramedics?”

“Chill out, dude. What are you so afraid of?” Xavier jabs me in the shoulder.

I shake my head vigorously, like I can somehow shake the feelings off me. “I don’t want a relationship. Relationships are a distraction.” I think about my parents, about the way my dad dumped his dreams like a hot potato when he allowed himself to get distracted by love. I slam back my drink and empty my glass. “I like being my own man. If I want to play poker, I play poker. If I want to stay up all night working, I stay up all night working.”

The guys all look at each other and chuckle knowingly. Reuben jabs a thumb in my direction. “Would you listen to this poor fool?!”

“I like being my own man, too,” Cannon says. “But I like being with my wife more. I’m pretty fucking fantastic on my own, if I do say so myself. But me and Alexia? Together, we’re a fucking powerhouse.”

“Same, bro. Same.” Reuben bobs in agreement. In fact, they all do.

I have a lot to think about as the game continues and the topic shifts. These guys have changed my perspective. Despite their billion dollar net worths, that’s not what I now admire them for. They’re are all married. Happy. With happy homes and huge fortunes. Kids and love and hot sex and success. I always thought you had to compromise one for the other. These men are real life proof that maybe I don’t have to.

There’s some ribbing around the table, and the trash talk only leads to higher bets being thrown into the pot. Even with all this cash on the line, the guys are still taking digs at me.

“Just a heads up, Kline. If you go back to being your shitty self, we might ban you from poker night.” Reuben snorts. “You’d better do everything in your power to keep this girl.”

“Yeah, does she take bribes?” Cannon jokes. “Because I’d gladly pay her to keep your grumpy ass happy.”

I ignore their attempts to get a rise out of me.

I’d never say it out loud but now I’m starting to realize that having Eliza around hasn’t been as terrible as I expected. And keeping her around? Well, the idea is growing on me. When all this started, I was counting down the days until our divorce. But now…I fear that the end is coming too quickly.

My marriage may have started because of Varner’s demands but now, the lines between real and fake are blurring. At least for me. The hot wedding night sex and the hardcore flirting these past few days certainly aren’t for the old hotelier’s benefit.

I have to admit it—every day, my feelings for my wife are intensifying.

“Your action, Mr. Kline,” I hear the dealer announce. I blink back to the game, my gaze swinging slowly around the table and then back at my own cards.

“All in,” I announce, shoving several grand in chips forward on the table.

“Shit,” Reuben grumbles and folds immediately.

The rest call my bet, until everyone’s chips are in the pot.

This is it, boys.

One-by-one, we show our hands.

Xavier has two fours and two kings. He stalks off to the bar without even waiting to see our cards. I realized a while ago that he was bluffing. His tells are always obvious.

Raphael has absolutely nothing.

Cannon eyes me closely. The dude is smart, and I still haven’t figured out if he counts cards. If he does, he’s careful about it, losing almost as much as he wins. But tonight, when he turns over a flush in spades, my lips curve upward.

I slap down my cards, face up. “Full house, bitches!” Aces and tens—my favorite combination. “Sorry, boys. This is what you get for worrying more about my business than minding your own.”

Groans sound as an attendant gathers my chips for me. They’ll have those exchanged for my winnings by the time I step toward the exit.

“Isn’t it ironic that the only unattached guy at the table is the one going home with the jackpot?” I smirk at the assholes.

I think I just proved my point—love only distracts a man from success. I rise from the table, grinning cockily like tonight’s conversation hasn’t shaken me to my roots.

“Have a good night, gentlemen. You can all go home empty-pocketed and cry to your wives.”