Used by Marlee Wray
Chapter 15
Laurel
We return to the game later than planned. I play well, but have a run of bad luck and Trick plays flawlessly. He takes the lead, and I have sixteen hundred in chips to his twenty-four hundred. Then I have some good hands, bringing our chips to almost even. Taking off my sweatshirt is in part because the game room’s warm and in part because I know the tight borrowed tank is a good strategy. He switches seats so he’s not across from me, but trying not to look at me puts him at a disadvantage. C sits down right next to me and puts an arm around the back of my chair, claiming he wants a tutorial since I’m playing so well. It flusters me, just as he intends, but I stumble through because I get decent cards.
Getting a great and unlikely hand excites me, but because I’ve been waiting for it, I think I mask my reaction. Instead I show the fake tell of biting my thumbnail that I’ve been using, hopefully surreptitiously, since last night. In high school I bit that nail when I was nervous, and it took me years to break myself of the habit. It recurred without my realizing during the Boston poker game. The next day I noticed the thumbnail was chewed to the quick.
Since we started this game, I’ve bitten that nail on and off, including during a strategic bluff.
Now I go all in, holding my breath. Have I fooled him by turning a real tell into a fake one?
Trick goes all in, taking the bait. Turning over my cards, they all see I wasn’t bluffing. My straight flush beats his three of a kind.
I win everything.
Trick sits back and stares at the ceiling.
“Fuck. Did not think you had it,” C says, shaking his head, but smiling. “Good work.”
Anvil beams and shakes my hand.
“Thank you so much, Sasha. Really. You helped me stay in the game last night.”
“Let me show you something,” Anvil says.
“Give me just a minute.” I go to Trick’s chair and sit on his lap.
“Tell me you cheated,” he says, still looking at the ceiling.
“Every hand. Relentlessly,” I joke in a whisper.
He chuckles and looks at me. Then he grabs my hand, puts my thumb in his mouth and bites down on it, letting me know that he suspected I might be faking the nail biting. My ploy won’t work next time.
“Hey,” I say, leaning close. “Want a kiss?”
He lets my thumb go. “From you? Always.”
I kiss him soundly.
His hand slides under my tank top, and he fingers the bottom of the thin camisole. “Are these clothes even yours?”
“No.” I put my arms around him, leaning against him and hugging him. “I love you,” I whisper in his ear and then kiss the side of his face.
When I get up, the chips are gone and there’s a stack of hundred dollar bills. Two thousand dollars from C and Anvil. Trick opens his wallet and tosses a stack of bills at the pile.
“How are you gonna spend it?” C asks.
“Well, most of it will go to paying off some debt I accumulated to help a family member. But a part of it is to buy a dress I want to wear on Trick’s birthday.” I steal a glance at him. “May seventh, yes?”
“Yeah. Show me the dress.”
“No, it’s a surprise.”
He smiles. “What color?”
I laugh. “You’ll see.”
“You met in Catholic school,” C says. “You should spend some of your winnings on a plaid skirt, white shirt, and knee socks.”
“God, no,” Trick says. “No schoolgirl costumes.” He looks at me speculatively. “If I had to guess, I’d say the dress is white. Because a wife would be a great birthday present.”
“May twenty-second is my day for wearing a white dress.”
He watches me with a smile playing at the corners of his mouth.
“St. Mary’s had an opening,” I continue. “Zoe checked the house calendar, and no one is scheduled to be out of town. Unless September sounds better? That’s the next opening at St. Mary’s.”
“May. By the way, if this is how you make me feel better after losing, you can cheat during the rematch ‘cuz I’ll be throwing it anyway.”
Smiling, I give him one more quick kiss before rising.
“Here,” Anvil says, coming over with his phone and showing me a spot on the map. “The best game in the state. I’ll cover the buy-in.”
Trick’s smile is replaced by a frown. “Fuck you, ‘Vil. No way.”
“She needs a manager, and you can’t do it.”
“Why not?”
“It’s sleazy. Husband managers are like pimps.”
“You invested in Rachel’s production company.”
“No. That’s Raven’s money. I gave it to her as a wedding present.”
“And she’s terrified she’s going to mismanage it. She’d probably welcome some husband-manager action. I know I would. She sent me twelve emails yesterday about accounting software.”
Anvil turns and looks at him. “Did you answer them?”
“Not all of them. There were twelve.”
Anvil’s thunderous look is intimidating, except to Trick.
“Relax. I set up her books.”
“When did you come over to use her computer?”
“I didn’t. I hacked in. She needs better security. I’ll fix it if you ever invite me over.” Trick stands. “C’mon, card shark, your future husband wants to manage you in a different type of game.”