Page 33 of Hot Tea & Bird Calls
This changed nothing. Celene hadn’t suddenly transformed into a woman welcoming vulnerability. Not to mention, she’d vanish after she sold the house.
“Three of spades.” Skye selected the corresponding image with a now-fluent double tap. She repeated, “Three of spades.”
Skye couldn’t determine what had her knees bouncing the most: Celene being single, her intermittent eye contact with Skye, or the third thing that blew her. For both prizes sitting between Marta and Skye, Celene took long moments to pick among the choices. Then, she’d walk past her seat on her return, placing her prize in front of Luce. Luce would squeal and thank her.
Maybetheywere falling in love, for all Skye knew.
“You don’t gotta fella?” Ms. Sommerville, a retiree with red-violet bouffant, asked as the current winner struggled to pick the perfect travel mug. Her chunky bracelets clicked together as she cleared her board. “Lemmie give you my grandson’s number. He owns his own pet grooming business.”
“Don’t nobody wanna date Heath!” one of Luce’s friends retorted from the back. Everyone laughed except, of course, Heath’s grandmother.
Luce bent forward in her perch, and Celene twisted around, where they shared a short exchange and laughed like buddies the same age. Damn, why did Skye have to be in charge? She pressed her lips to the spot on the mic that didn’t make her sound hollow. “Ten of diamonds.”
Celene flipped back forward, pushing dark hair from her face. And her eyes met with Skye’s for a half second, but a half second longer than nothing before snapping down at her board. Skye wondered if Marta felt the heat coming off of her. She’d never wished for somebody to lose so badly in her life.
Her wishes worked in her favor, as people not-Celene collected the prizes Marta replenished with resolute efficiency. Luce eventually won a twenty-dollar gift card and danced up to Skye’s table to cheers. She’d offered it to Celene, and she accepted with a gracious smile. Skye squeezed her labradorite for strength. When would this evening end?
The final two rounds—Blackouts, where the entire board needed to be filled—would have the pricier prizes. Typically, 40-dollar gift certificates for local eateries or a shrink-wrapped mystery basket. Last month, someone uncovered a hundred-dollar bill rolled in a basket, and everyone lost their damn minds.
Their banter dwindled for the most coveted wins of the night.
Everyone groaned when Ms. Sommerville called Pokeno for the first blackout. She recited the covered spaces, and Skye confirmed her win was valid. With the chicken and waffles certificate she gripped with long, blue nails, maybe she’d take her grandson out herself.
Marta’s obvious relief resounded from the mic. “Clear your boards if you haven’t already. Last game of the night. The final prizes are a gift certificate to Nell’s Rolled Ice Cream or our mystery basket.”
The expected murmurs flowed over the room, interrupted by Luce’s distinct voice offering, “Or a date with my beautiful granddaughter.”
Nowthatgot a strong reaction, mostly laughter. Skye’s face went aflame because this wasnotprearranged. Her grandmother never pimped her out in any way ever.
“I’ll play for my life,” said Mr. Harrison, a receptionist from the Yielding Dental Associates, vigorously wiping his board clean. Chips skidded off his table and clinked onto the floor. Marta sprinted for them like they’d explode.
Luce made sure to speak loudly for all to hear. “Raymond, I wouldn’t let you within ten feet of my baby unless you’re scheduling her next cleaning.” She pointed at others who smiled too broadly. “Most of you old men are married. Get it together!”
“No offspring or offspring of offspring are available,” Skye stated as firmly as her voice permitted. Her microphone volume gave her some rank, right?
“That’s not true,” Celene said, waving a circle towards Skye. “You’re sitting at the prize table. You’re up for grabs.”
Luce couldn’t have been more obvious. “She gets it, Skye. Do you?”
Oh god, her grandma had fallen into the same desperation as Ms. Sommerville, who rolled her eyes behind thick bifocals. Looked like the two of them would leave humbled tonight.
Skye sipped from a paper cup, reaching its final drops. The cringe she held in would fold her like that dented metal chair. Being offered to a rowdy group of elders by Luce, teased by Celene. She could just bolt out the door. Skye stole a glance at Marta and decided against it. That lady would tackle her.
Needing this to peter out as a traumatic public joke, Skye plucked the top card in the shuffler. “First card of the final game: seven of clubs.”
She’d heard the term ‘high stakes’ all her life. Now she lived it in real time. Every card she called, her breath shallow, brought her closer to extreme discomfort, depending on who won. Maybe Luce could win, and all would be fine. Though taking in Luce’s tense brows and a few swears she let slip out, the cards weren’t falling in her favor. Celene, however, played in an impassive, practically blasé manner, placing a chip on her board more frequently.
“Six of diamonds.” That one riled some players up, as they were waiting on a five of the same suit. If only Skye could scout a gnat to report back on Celene’s progress, to tell her it was going to be okay. She’d send a scout to Mr. Harrison, too. Maybe she should change her dental office altogether.
On the following card, Skye’s stomach cramped as she read it. Queen of Hearts. By selecting the host of cards on the app, she already knew the other queens had been called. She swallowed dryly, and Marta, bless her, jumped up to fetch her more water.
But Skye couldn’t hold up the game. She named the card with a bit more tremble than she’d liked and?—
“Pokeno!” Not from the questionable men, but Miss Janetta, one of Luce’s friends, who’d begun celebrating in her chair.
Crisis averted. Skye could?—
Celene’s hand shot up as it had for her other victories. “I have Pokeno, too.”
