Page 85 of Liar
Game on.
Javier, along with three others, fold on the next round. We’re down to six players but the pile of money is quickly approaching one thousand.
A thousand dollars will buy two high-end washing machines. It would have offset university expenses for books and whatnot if I’d won Nacionales. What more? I’m eighteen now, what is it that I really want aside from dancing?
Aside fromhim?
His leg brushes against mine, as if he can read my thoughts.
I smile at him.
He doesn’t react, not overtly anyway. But there’s a slight softening of his lips that has my pulse racing. His tell—telling me he’s not immune to me.
When his turn arrives, he exchanges one card.
“Sure you only need one?” I tease.
“You play well.” His praise feels almost as good as the brief caress of his lips and it has me leaning in for more.
“That remains to be seen,” I reply.
“Did Diego teach you?”
I laugh at that. “Mr. Competitive? No. My parents liked to host Thursday night poker games. Half the pot would always go to charity.” I stop, wondering why I’m always so willing to share things with him when so little remains known about him. How many men at this table believe he’s Spanish? How many have seen his green eyes? Bleach his hair and dress him in casual attire, and he’d be unrecognizable, wouldn’t he? What other secrets does no one even realize exist? “Did your parents teach you to play?” I ask.
“I taught myself.”
I cock my head, waiting for him to elaborate.
“Raise you ten.”
So much for him opening up. I part with two cards but then lady luck shines down on me as not one, but two queens stare back at me. I calmly toss in ten and with a bold look at Hayden, raise the Lobo next to me by twenty.
That begins a domino effect of folds.
Until it’s our turn again.
“I stand pat.” He tosses fifty dollars into the pot.
A challenge.
There’s no sense ridding myself of a card in exchange for another. A deck only has four queens, and I have them all. It’s a winning hand that you have a two percent likelihood of drawing. Only a straight flush and a royal flush can beat it.
And Hayden understands this.
I push in the rest of my money then plucking a hundred-dollar bill from the stash in his pocket, toss that in as well.
“I’ll pay you back with my winnings. Or better yet,” I draw in close, to whisper in his ear, “if you lose, I’ll give you a taste of peaches. Mixed with oranges, cherry, and wine.”
“When I win, and when it’s safe, you return home and move on with your life. You promise to keep a low profile and avoid the Sureños.”
Move on with my life?My hand shakes as I take a sip of Sangria.He means without him, doesn’t he?
I’ve misread this entire exchange, haven’t I?
He lightly, gently, places a kiss on my cheek. “You won’t see it this way, but this is my birthday present to you.”
He. Played. Me.
