Preston
I’m trying to focus on the game, but a pair of round, dark eyes are staring up at me from underneath the table.
I thought the watch Asher got me was the most hideous thing I’ve seen today, but I was wrong. This wrinkly, droopy-faced bulldog with a big ass head and a massive underbite definitely takes the cake.
I try to shoo him elsewhere, but he opens his mouth and huffs. A stream of drool pools on the floor, narrowly missing my shoe.
“Can you take your mutt upstairs?” I grunt to the guy sitting across from me, because being watched like a hawk and slobbered on is seriously fucking-up my concentration.
The owner—whose name is Darius—appears offended. “Nah, man. Killer is my good luck charm. Besides, he loves poker.”
Killer? I want to laugh because he doesn’t look like he could hurt a fly.
Except with his looks.
I bum a cigarette from the guy seated next to me and light it. “Whatever.” I look at the dealer. “Check.”
A moment later he flips over the card for the turn and four guys curse.
Given I have nothing worthwhile in my hand either, I’m right there with them.
“Fold.”
The rest of the men do the same and the pot goes to the guy on the left of me.
I’m down a thousand bucks right now, but I know if I focus, I can make some damn good money tonight.
My mind flits back to the text message Becca sent me earlier.
She wants to enroll Jameson in preschool because she thinks it will be good for him and help with his shyness, but she doesn’t have the money to do it.
Bringing my cigarette to my lips, I check out my new cards. I have a two of spades and a seven of diamonds.
In other words…jack shit.
However, I decide to wait and see what the flop brings before discarding them.
Unfortunately, it’s only a five of hearts, an ace of hearts, and a king of diamonds. I can try to bluff my way through to the end, but I’d rather save that move for later.
“Fold.”
I pick up my glass of whiskey, but think better of it because the ugly bulldog—who’s still staring at me—is ruining my focus enough already.
I finish my cigarette and wait for the round to be over.
New cards are dealt, and after the flop, I’m holding an ace of hearts along with a ten and jack of the same suit. It’s fucking beautiful, but I don’t let myself get too excited because I know not to count my chickens before they hatch.
Across the table, I notice a twinkle in Darius’s eye. I guess his hand shows promise too.
A clench of anticipation tightens my gut when the dealer flips over the turn and it’s a king of hearts.
“Raise,” Darius declares suddenly, moving the bulk of his chips up.
Four guys fold right then, but one of them hesitates briefly before making the wise decision to withdraw as well.
“Man,” the guy next to me begins. “This reminds me of the time when I had an ace and a king, and my opponent had a two and a three. There was an ace on the board, so I thought I was golden.” He brings his cigar to his mouth. “The turn was four…and then guess what happened next?”
“The river was five,” I mutter.
He slaps the table, causing the chips to rattle. “How’d you know?”
Because I’ve heard this bad beat story a thousand times before, and I know he’s only reciting it to throw me off kilter and make me second-guess myself because he’s friends with Darius.
But it won’t work, because if Lady Luck has my back and the river is what I hope it is…there’s no way in hell I’m losing.
Smirking, I push my chips forward. “All In.”
Darius takes a sip of his drink, not looking the least bit nervous. “Care to make this a little more interesting?”
Given this is a poker game in someone’s basement, it isn’t sanctioned. Therefore, the typical rules don’t apply.
“What do you have in mind?”
Grinning, he looks around the table before focusing on me again.
“We each throw an extra five grand into the pot. Winner takes all.”
The guy next to me whistles. “Interesting indeed.”
Adrenaline courses through my veins like a live wire. This is the rush I live for. The thrill I play for.
The moment when the underdog becomes the motherfucking victor.
“Where’s your money?”
He juts his chin at the ceiling. “It’s upstairs in my safe. I’m good for it.”
I shouldn’t do this because if the river fucks me and I lose…I’ll leave with nothing.
But then I think about Jameson and how if I win, I’ll be able to pay for his preschool.
I think about Kit and how she’s been cooking terrible food all day long for the birthday dinner she set up for me.
A weird twist goes through my chest and I make a silent vow that if the river ends up in my favor…I’ll do the smart thing and leave.
“Deal.”
My heart pounds and I find myself holding my breath as the dealer flips over the last remaining card.
Chapter 16
Kit
“Well?” I ask after everyone’s taken a bite. “How is it?”
I spent all day cooking for Preston’s birthday dinner, and I’m hoping it turned out all right. A twinge of sadness goes through my heart. Even though he’s not here.
Breslin’s the first to speak. “It’s good.” She shoves another forkful of lasagna into her mouth, and she must really like it because she closes her eyes and groans. “So good.”
Landon gives me a smile. “It’s interesting how it has this kind of pungent, sharp aftertaste. And the crunchy center really brings it together.” Pushing his food around his plate, he takes a sip of his water. “However, I think it could use a little hot sauce.”
“It could use a little Chinese food,” Asher chimes in, reaching for his sports drink.
“Asher,” Breslin hisses.
Landon gets up from the table and slaps Asher’s back. “I’ll get you some hot sauce, jock.”
“Wait,” Breslin says before she stands up and follows him. “I need hot sauce, too.”
Rolling his eyes, Asher hikes a thumb behind him. “Those two are not getting hot sauce.”
“They’re not?”
An unpleasant feeling fills my stomach, because I don’t want them christening my parents’ kitchen.
Asher points his fork at me. “Have you tasted this lasagna yet, small fry?”
I give my head a shake. I was so focused on what they thought, I haven’t tried it myself.
Shoveling some onto my fork, I bring it to my mouth. The moment it hits my tongue, I start dry heaving.
Reaching for my napkin, I spit it out. “Holy crap. That’s disgusting.”
I’m not sure what went wrong. I followed the recipe to a T.
“Yes,” Asher agrees. “Yes, it is. Which is exactly why they’re both in the bathroom hiding out in order to avoid coming back here and having another bite of that shit.”
Can’t say I blame them.
I look over at Picasso who’s happily munching away on his dog food in the corner. “Lucky.”