Page 13 of The Alternate Captain
I roll my eyes. “Actually, I think I’ll get an early night after I have a quick play-through.” I move into the apartment and grab my cello, a little too eagerly, but Mike shrugs and tells me he’ll see me later.
Once he’s gone, I set my cello back down and slump onto the sofa, because there’s no way in hell I can concentrate right now. My whole body is tense, so I dig some headphones out of my overnight bag and settle them over my ears, desperate to zone out.
I get through one track before my phone starts ringing, Tom’s name flashing up on the screen, and he knows straight away that something is up when I answer.
“What’s wrong and don’t lie to me,” he says, his tone flat.
“I’m really anxious about tomorrow,” I say. Even though I know, deep down, that if there’s anyone I could confide in, it’s Tom. We’ve shared a music stand since we started at the university last year, but I can’t bear the thought of anyone else knowing how foolish I’d been.
“Well, you don’t need to be. Obviously, I want you to do terribly because I don’t want you to leave me, but—”
“How was the rehearsal?” I cut him off, hoping todistract him.
And it works. I let him ramble on and on, listening intently as he talks. Except, after he wishes me good luck and hangs up, Johnny’s back on my mind and the sadness takes over again.
I’m a liar.
“I swear to God, if you have the three of clubs, I’ll be pissed.” Ryan drums his fingers on the impromptu table he and Danny have set up in their living room. He furrows his brow and studies the flop. The three cards on the table made everyone groan when they were dealt, except for me. I know how to keep a straight face.
“I’ve told you before, Prez. You’ll have to pay to see my cards.”
I flick my eyes down at my hand and then back up at him, letting a smirk form on my face. Watching him squirm under the uncertainty of the cards I’m holding is priceless. I love how irate he gets.
“Fine. Check,” he says, tapping the table.
“Check,” Bettsy says.
“Check,” Danny agrees.
“Oh hell, no,” Ffordey says, reaching for his pile of chips. He plucks two from the top and tosses them towards the centre of the table. “I call.”
“I raise,” I say, adding to the stash.
“Nah, I fold,” Hutch says, sliding his cards away.
“What you going to do, Ryan?” I tease.
Everyone swivels their heads in his direction, waiting for his next move. He peers down at his hand again then back to the flop—as if the cards may spontaneously change if he wills them hard enough.
We’re all still in our post-game suits, shirt sleeves rolled up. Ryan fidgets with the knot of his tie before letting out an exaggerated sigh. He flings his cards towards the ones Hutch abandoned a moment earlier. Then Bettsy and Danny follow.
There’s only me and Ffordey left.
Ffordey continues his deal, burning the top card in the deck before flipping over the turn card. “Shit. It’s the four,” he says.
The room goes silent. Everyone’s eyes are on me. It’s my turn to play and I reach for my chips, stopping halfway as Ffordey pushes his chair back.
“I’m done,” he says.
I scrape the chips towards me and set my cards down on the table.
“So, what did you have?” Ryan asks.
“I told you, Prez. You’ll have to pay to see my cards,” I say, slapping my hand on the table for effect.
I had fuck all. I probably didn’t even have the highest card, but that’s how I play.
“Could you imagine if we were playing for real money?” Bettsy says to Ffordey. “Because I know Cap would have cleaned up.”
