Black Number Four (8 page)

Fuck, I need to focus.

Poker. Poker. Poker.

That’s why I’m here.

“Okay, you go in first. I’ll follow in a few minutes,” she says, tucking the tube of gloss back into the tiny purse she has around her wrist.

“No fucking way,” I say immediately. “You’re not standing out here by yourself.”

“Oh shut up, I can handle myself,” she says, pushing me toward the door.

I turn away from her hands and cross my arms over my chest. “Not happening, Skyler. You go first, I’ll wait and come in after. I’m not budging on this. I’ll play along inside but there’s no way in hell I’m leaving you out here.”

She lets out a large breath and her eyes shoot up to the sky. “Why did I let you come?” She huffs once more, runs her fingers through her hair, and purses her lips before addressing me again. “Fine, I’ll go in first. But you can’t act like you know me when we get in there. I’m serious.”

I smile again. “I kind of like it when you’re bossy. It’s hot. ”

Skyler shakes her head and turns toward the building, but her smile is betraying her again. I can’t figure out why she’s trying to hide it, why she’s all of a sudden acting like she doesn’t want me around, but if I had to guess – my money would be on Erin Xander.

Erin and I met the summer before my junior year of high school. She was a senior, older, way hotter than me – especially at the time – and I’ll admit she captivated me. She was a Florida girl, and she stood out in her grandparents’ wheat fields like a bright green John Deere tractor. I was working summer harvest with Mr. and Mrs. Xander due to my father deciding on a whim that he wanted to teach me “responsibility” and “the value of a dollar”. She showed up about a week into the season, carrying out two pitchers of lemonade in the shortest jean shorts I’d ever seen.

We spent pretty much every minute of the summer together, but toward the end she went a little crazy. She was constantly checking my phone, which back then was nothing more than a flip phone with a snake game and maybe four phone numbers. She accused me of cheating on her, even though we weren’t even officially together. The closer it got to her leaving, the worse she acted – always crying, picking fights with me – anything she could to push me away.

At first I thought it was her fear of losing me, so I comforted her and constantly reassured her that I wanted to try to make things work, that I really liked her. But after a while, her attempt to push me away started working, and she left the first day of August with tears in her eyes. I never saw her again.

Until tonight.

Standing on stage as the president of Skyler’s sorority.

Seriously? My luck really fucking sucks.

I wait about fifteen minutes and then head into the pawn shop, following Skyler’s directions. Once the guard lets me pass, there’s another, smaller door at the end of a long hallway. I push through it and am immediately engulfed in a cloud of smoke. There’s no music, no lights or people dancing – just a small bar off to the left and a large poker table in the middle of the room and a few slot machines lining the back. The walls are crowded with piles of old electronics, books, and various other objects stacked against them. Anyone not at the table is at the bar and there are no seats near the players, probably to keep those who aren’t playing from giving away cards.

Everyone seated at the bar is staring at me, waiting for me to make a move. Shit, I’m already drawing attention. I adjust my shirt and stand a little straighter, striding confidently over to a bar stool. I slide on and call the bartender with a small wave, smiling at the older man seated next to me. He doesn’t smile back.

The bartender strolls over slowly, tossing a dirty rag over her shoulder. She’s an older woman, a little heavy set with stringy blonde hair and tattoos covering her arms and chest. By the way she’s looking at me, I’d say she doesn’t think I belong, either.

“Scotch, please.”

“We don’t have scotch,” she says roughly. “It’s whiskey or beer.”

Shit, so much for blending. I nod and smile, trying to save my ass. “Beer it is.”

She doesn’t return my smile, her face matching the older man next to me, but she reaches under the bar and grabs a glass, filling it with whatever they have on tap. She drops the glass hard on the bar, the froth spilling over a little, before walking back toward the other end where she was before.

I lift the beer to my lips as I swivel around to face the table, gulping it down to check out the players. I spot Skyler immediately, her pink dress a stark contrast to the dark clothed men around her. Although, no two men are the same at the table – one looks like he could be tattoo bartender’s husband, one is balding and wearing the glasses of a 1970s molester, one looks like a frat daddy and the other four look like dads. I don’t know how else to describe them – middle-aged, khaki pants or jeans, polos or old band t-shirts, stout but not exactly fit – dads.

A new hand is being dealt and the room is silent except for a few of the guys at the table. Everyone at the bar is watching the game, no one making conversation. This isn’t a bar or a place to hang out. It’s a game – and it’s serious.

“You just going to bet the blinds all night and let us slowly take those chips away, Barbie?” the frat daddy asks, peeking at his cards under his hand. He smiles and winks at her and I see it, a small twitch of Skyler’s left pinkie. She wants to punch him, I know it.

But she refrains.

Instead, she smiles back at him, a smile so devastatingly beautiful I’m not sure how his jaw didn’t fall open. “Those are some big words from such a little man,” she sings, her voice even smoother than usual. Her smile turns a little shy and her cheeks flush as she looks down at her cards. Then, her eyes flicker back up to his, then back down again.

Holy shit, she’s flirting with him.

And not in a traditional way, but in a way to make him think she’s trying to be mean to him but failing miserably – like he’s having an effect on her and she can’t help it.

And he takes the bait. Hook, line, and sinker.

“Aw, don’t blush, sweetheart,” he says, leaning back and propping his elbow on the top of his chair. “Maybe I’ll take you out after I win this tournament.”

Skyler giggles, but doesn’t respond.

A few hands go by quietly. Skyler wins one of them on a three of a kind, but holds off on the others. The hand she did win was a large one, so her chips are stacked pretty evenly, but balding guy and one of the dads are leading.

None of the guys can keep their eyes off Skyler, but frat daddy is definitely the most intrigued. He keeps throwing sideways comments at her. She always responds, but not how I know she wants to. She’s playing them – all of them – to think she’s a shy, innocent, sweet little girl. When she won her hand, she smiled and clapped like a three-year-old, making frat daddy smile and the other guys shake their heads. They are all either annoyed or completely enamored by her.

Both work in her favor.

They don’t see her as competition, which either means they don’t watch professional poker or they don’t recognize her. Either way, I have a feeling they’re all in for a big surprise tonight.

Skyler pushes a large bet to the middle, raising the previous player.

“Woah, that might be the biggest bet you’ve made all night, Barbie,” frat daddy says.

“She’s bluffing, trying to save her ass,” the tattoo guy says. He calls her bet, as do a few others, including frat daddy.

The dealer lays down the flop and I realize then that I haven’t been watching Skyler, I haven’t been trying to read her face. I’ve been too damn distracted by how sexy she is when she’s schooling these tools. I can’t tell if the fact that a poker game is turning me on is ridiculous or just sick, but it’s happening either way.

I want to take her home. I want strip poker. In my room.

In my bed.

Now.

Focus, Kip.

I train my eyes on hers, watching as she evaluates the three cards on the table before taking another peek at hers. She’s not wearing sunglasses, though most of the other guys are, so her eyes are open for reading – but she doesn’t show a sign of emotion in them. They’re bare – stripped, even. Her lips don’t twitch, she doesn’t take a deep breath or let her eyes flicker around the table. Instead, she remains completely cool – unmoved, unaffected, relaxed.

She bets high again, causing two players to drop. It’s just her, tattoo guy, and frat daddy now.

Tattoo guy shakes his head. “I can read straight through you, princess. Your bluffs don’t scare me. Call.” He pushes his chips toward the middle, leaving only a small pile behind.

Skyler turns her eyes to frat daddy, who seems to be appraising her. He smiles, shakes his head, and lays his cards face down. “I’m out. I think she’s got something.” Skyler smiles back at him and bites her lower lip a little, which makes my dick harden and my fists clench at the same time. I don’t like the way frat daddy is looking at her, even if it is her intention.

The turn is dealt and then the river, Skyler sticking to her high bets. It’s on tattoo guy to call, but if he does, he’s going all in. He chews his cheek and studies Skyler, looking for some sign of a bluff or otherwise. I want to tell him to let me in on the secret if he finds it because I don’t see her giving a single thing away. She’s absolute stone.

“All in.” He pushes the chips forward and leans back, crossing his arms over his chest. “Let’s see those cards, girl.”

Skyler doesn’t smile, doesn’t talk shit – she just lays her cards down flat.

Flush.

Tattoo guy slams his fists on the table and stands at the same time, flicking his cards toward the dealer. He had a pair, definitely nothing to go all in on, which means he was betting on her bluff.

And bluff she did not.

“Bullshit!” he yells, his shoulders tensing. I grip my glass a little tighter, ready to fight if I have to.

Frat daddy laughs. “I knew it, I knew she had something. Good hand, Barbie.”

“Thanks.” She smiles. “Beginner’s luck, I guess.”

Tattoo guy takes a seat a few bar stools down from me and I relax, watching Skyler again. A few more rounds go by and two of the dads are out. Balding guy and Skyler are the only ones left in a hand when she starts betting like she did in the hand that got tattoo guy out. Molester folds and she takes a big pot.

“How much do you want to show those cards, Barbie?” Frat daddy asks.

Skyler shrugs, stacking her chips up. “How much you willing to pay?” Her eyes flick up to his, flirtatious and challenging at the same time. He smiles, tosses a fifty dollar chip toward her and nods to the cards. She shakes her head. “Sorry, wrong number. Try again.”

He smiles, taking back the fifty in exchange for a one-hundred dollar chip.

“Getting warmer,” she says, still eying him.

He laughs and pulls the chip back. “That’s as high as I go to see dead cards, but I’ll take that as a sign of a bluff.”

She shrugs. “I guess you’ll never know.”

An hour passes before they finally get down to the final two – and, against my inner cursing and wishing – it’s Skyler and frat daddy. I don’t feel good about the night ending this way, and something in my gut tells me I need to be ready to get out of here – fast. I step out into the bathroom quickly and call a cab before returning to the bar and leaning against it rather than sitting down again, just in case.

I’m trying to study Skyler, but every time I try to focus on what her eyes and lips are doing, my body starts studying a completely different subject. I know my dad is going to expect a report, and I have to give him something. I don’t want to play this game, I don’t want to hurt Skyler or use her to get me to UCLA, but I don’t have a choice. This is my dream.

It’s the high stakes table, and I can’t fold now.

A few hands go by with not much action. Skyler wins, frat daddy wins, Skyler wins, frat daddy wins. They trade small hands back and forth before finally, Skyler bets big, reducing her pile of chips by more than half.

“There’s that bluffing bet!” frat daddy yells, calling. He pushes his chips to the middle and the dealer burns one card and turns the next, revealing another card. “I’ve got you figured out now, Barbie.”

Skyler appears to be shaken. She chews the inside of her bottom lip and her knee begins bouncing slightly under the table. Shit. He figured out her bluff.

But how? She looked exactly like she did when she cleaned out tattoo guy, what did he see?

I’m failing at this studying shit.

The final card is dealt and Skyler checks it to frat daddy, backing off her strong bet. He shakes his head. “No way, can’t back down now. All in.”

He pushes his pile forward and Skyler inhales deep as the dealer counts out the chips.

“Four-thousand-four-hundred to call,” he says to Skyler. She looks down at her own pile, counting. That would only leave her with twelve hundred if she lost. Her knee bounces a little, she bites her lip, then, with a heavy breath, she pushes her chips forward.

“Call.”

Frat daddy flips his cards, revealing a straight. A solid hand, but he wasn’t betting on his cards – he was betting on hers.

Suddenly, a smile breaks on Skyler’s face, her knee steadying again. “Oh Ken,” she says, throwing his Barbie comments back in his face. “Barbie never bluffs.” She lays her cards out, her smile widening.