Gettin' Lucky (11 page)

She picked up on the first ring. “What’s the verdict?” she asked breathlessly.

“I’m in,” I said.

Kelly’s response was a shriek so loud that I had to hold the phone at arm’s length. Maxine, who was curled up at the foot of my bed, peered at me curiously and made a whimpering sound.

I crossed my fingers that I wouldn’t regret my decision.

Nine

The game was called for Friday night. I kept my head down in school that afternoon—I had to save up all of my energy if I was going to go up against Alana and Jesse that evening. Walking from class to class, it felt somehow as though everyone I passed was whispering and casting sidelong glances toward me. I told myself I was imagining things, but I wasn’t sure that was the truth.

We were playing at Kelly’s; of the core six of us, her place was best suited for a poker party. According to Kelly, Jesse had lobbied for holding the card game at his parents’ place, but thank god, she held firm. I
definitely
wasn’t ready to return to the scene of the backstabbing. Frankly, I hadn’t
even been able to listen to Kelly Clarkson without gagging ever since walking in on Jesse and Alana. Visiting his house could cause full-on GI failure.

Kelly asked me to come over early; I think she knew I needed the moral support. Either that, or she was afraid I might chicken out. Which, come to think of it, I almost did.

In the end, though, I decided to put faith in my horoscope—after all, it had never let me down before—and do as Kelly said: that is, to see this as an opportunity to regain some dignity. Never mind that Jesse had heard I was improving. I knew that he mainly wanted in on our game because Marcus and Kelly were known pros; Jesse was insanely competitive. Anyway, with any luck, my newly honed prowess would catch him off guard.

I made the guac while Kelly quizzed me on the best poker hands. She needn’t have bothered; that was amateur stuff.

“You’re ready,” she pronounced, setting out an ice bucket and a bunch of bottles of soda.

“I hope so,” I replied. Unfortunately, I wasn’t so sure.

The doorbell rang, and I nearly jumped out of my skin. “Maybe I’m not as ready as I thought,” I said sheepishly.

Kelly patted me on the shoulder as she strode past me to answer the doorbell. “Relax,” she said, smiling. “It’s just Elliot. He promised to meet us before everyone else got here so that we could be your moral support.”

“Aww,” I said. My voice was mock-saccharine, but I was actually touched, bigtime.

“The cavalry’s here!” Kelly sang, leading Elliot into the living room.

He offered me a sheepish wave. “Hey, Cass. Ready for your debut?”

“Oh, sure,” I said, trying to sound at least ten times breezier than I felt. “I’m feeling lucky tonight.”

He frowned. “Cassandra,” he said, “you know—”

“That luck has nothing to do with it, blah, blah, blah,” I said. I winked to show I was teasing. “I know it, I’ve heard it, I own it,” I continued. “And I’m not going to forget everything that you’ve taught me. But somewhere back there, in the farthest corners of my mind, I’m still hoping to get lucky tonight.”

“That’s what I like to hear!” Kelly squealed.

Which was just when the doorbell rang again.

All of the visualization and positive-thinking techniques in the world couldn’t have prepared me for the full-body shock that I experienced when the doorbell rang for the second time. I shivered briefly, as though I were actually, physically ill.

You’re being stupid,
I told myself.
It might not even be Jesse at the door.

It
could
just be Alana.

The doorbell rang again, this time in a succession of short, staccato beats. Whoever it was, was getting impatient.

“Kelly, are you going to—” Elliot wandered out into the hallway. He stopped short when he saw me. “You don’t look so good.”

I bit my lip. “I don’t feel so good.”

“Maybe this was a bad idea,” Elliot said, his brow furrowing in concern.

“You’re telling me this
now?”
I asked, my voice creeping to an alarming octave. He and Kelly had been the ones who were so sure we should embark on this little battle of the network stars.

“Everybody, calm down,” Kelly said, padding into the hall and waving her hands at us in a gesture that I’m sure was intended to be soothing. She turned to me. “You go splash some water on your face. And you”—now she pointed directly at Elliot, who flushed with embarrassment at being called out—”go … refill the ice bucket!”

“It’s full—,” Elliot protested.

But Kelly wasn’t daunted. She dashed off to get the door.

I followed Kelly’s advice and made my way to the front bathroom. Her mother had done the room up in mirrored paneling and lavender, which did nothing to offset my raging nerves. I could see my sheet-white face from almost every angle, made—if it were even possible—pastier by the glow of the tinted wallpaper.

Get a grip,
I told myself, breathing heavily.
Get it together.

I splashed some water across my face and spritzed myself with a little atomizer that I found by the side of the sink. Only after I sprayed it into my hair did I realize it was actually a room deodorizer. Whatever. At least now I was free of the lingering smells of must and pet odor. I was all that much
more prepared to wipe the floor with my exboyfriend now that I smelled like a freshly waxed kitchen floor.

Okay, I was dousing myself in cleaning projects. It was safe to say that I had officially hit rock bottom.

Hiding in the bathroom is doing nothing for your self-image, Cass,
I thought, urging myself out of my hiding place. I took a deep breath, smoothed out my hair, and followed my friends into the living room.

Traitor. Brutus. Backstabbing freak.

I couldn’t believe my eyes. Not only was Alana here, and looking incredibly self-satisfied, but she was wearing a beaded halter top that I had given her for her last birthday.

Oh, low blow.

Was she trying to throw me off my game?

Shake it off Cass. Use your anger.

It was like the force. If I could tap into it, my righteous indignation could make me stronger.

I hated that freaking halter.

“Nice halter,” I managed to choke out, waving a limp hello to my former friend.

She smirked, looking equal parts sheepish and entitled. “Hey, Cass.”

“Hi, Cass.”

It was Jesse.

It was Jesse, and I was Jell-o.

“Hi,” I squeaked. The word caught in my throat and came out like it had several syllables. I could smell the room spray wafting off of me as my body heat soared.

Dennis and Jake stood behind the happy couple, looking mildly disinterested in the
O.C.-
style drama unfolding before them. I waved halfheartedly in their direction.

I forced my lips to turn upward in what I hoped was a fair attempt at a smile. “So, do you guys, uh, wanna play some cards?”

It was going to be a long night.

Dennis was the dealer. Something about how it was a courtesy to let the guest act as house. Whatever, I could barely cough out a sentence without managing to sound severely brain damaged, so it wasn’t like I was in the best position to put up a fight. I sat across the table from Alana and Jesse, flanked on either side by Kelly and Elliot. I’m not gonna lie; it was nice to know that my buds had my back. My stomach had started churning from the moment the front door first rang, and it wasn’t looking like it was going to calm down anytime soon.

I don’t know what I thought I’d feel upon seeing Jesse for real, face-to-face, in a scene I couldn’t flee from. Hurt, sure, with maybe a little bit of embarrassment. And, hey—why not throw a little anger in there, too, while you’re at it? All seemed like perfectly respectable reactions.

But what I hadn’t counted on was feeling them all so acutely, and
all at the same time.
My brain was so fuzzy, I thought it was going to catch fire. I could barely focus on my cards. Which didn’t matter, because they sucked, anyway. On our first hand, I folded after the first round of betting. Jesse and Alana exchanged a glance. I think they thought I didn’t notice them, but I totally did. I’m sure they were wondering why they’d heard so much about my so-called poker skills. I mean, I was even secondguessing myself. My cheeks were buzzing, and my molars were humming. I was completely self-conscious. I was starting to seriously wonder if I was having an out-of-body experience. Except if that was the case, I figured I’d be a lot less itchy.

After my third fold of the night, Kelly dragged me into the kitchen under the pretense of getting everyone some more soda.

“
What
is going on with you out there?” she hissed. “This is worse than the first time you played with us.”

“Thanks,” I sniffed.

“Sorry,” she said, sounding slightly softer. “But it’s true. I thought you’d be so into stomping all over Jesse and Alana. But this is just … painful to watch.”

“It’s kind of painful to
feel,
Kelly!” I reminded her, willing my voice not to crack. I rolled my eyes and jerked my head in the direction of the living room. “Do you not notice how they are, like, totally and completely a couple? They don’t seem even remotely embarrassed at how badly they screwed me over.”

“It’s been a little while, Cass,” Kelly reminded me. “As horrible as it sounds, maybe they’ve moved on.”

I shuddered, then straightened myself back up again. “I mean, at least they don’t have to look so
happy
about taking my money. Please.”

“At least you don’t have to
let
them,” Kelly said, whispering fiercely. “Listen—you are a good poker player. As good as anyone out there.” She wrinkled her nose, disagreeing with herself. “Except for Marcus.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Your point being?”

“You’re letting them spank you.”

“And, thank you for the imagery.” I sighed.

She shoved against me, one part playful, one part concerned. “Wouldn’t you rather it be the other way around?”

Kelly was right. There was no point in going down without a fight. I knew what I had to do. What I needed to do.
Wanted
to do.

I didn’t want to spank Alana and Jesse.

I wanted to kick their asses, big-time.

“We’re back,” Kelly said, settling into her folding chair.

I slammed a two-liter bottle of Coke onto the table with enough force to rattle everyone’s drinks. Elliot glanced up at me, startled. I smiled sweetly at him, then sat down at the table. This time, I was careful to meet every single player’s eyes.

“Deal me in.”

It was time to turn the game around, and I was going to be the one to do it.

I rapped my knuckles lightly against the underside of the table, just to be safe. It was a flimsy IKEA sort of wood, but it was wood, nonetheless. It would have to do.

Dennis cracked his knuckles and shrugged. He slapped two cards down on the table toward me.

I lifted the corners of my cards, just enough so I could see my hand.

Crap.

Dennis fiddled with a cigarette lighter. It was a silver Zippo, very retro. He was using it the way that some players use chips or other lucky markers. They set it on top of their cards between bets, in part to tell the dealer that they’re sticking, but mostly for luck. A not-so-small part of me was itching to bust out a marker of my own, but I knew Elliot, my sensei and dungeon master in all things poker, would not approve. After all, I was supposed to play as if I didn’t consider superstition to be a science unto itself. Which—ugh.

“No smoking,” Kelly said shortly.

Dennis raised an eyebrow. “I wasn’t.”

“Um, are we playing, or what?” Alana looked up from her cards, trying in vain to mask the half-smile that had crept across her face. She was not, shall we say, a master bluffer.

The community cards were no good for me. This was awful. I fidgeted in my seat. I could hear Elliot’s voice in my head, like
that horrible voice-over at the beginning of very sappy romantic comedies or that television show with all the hot doctors.
No luck involved,
voice-Elliot said.
Act as if you know exactly what hand your opponents are holding.

That was the thing. Worst-case scenario, they still had better hands then I did.

I was screwed.

“I fold,” I said, my eyebrows pushing together in frustration. If I kept losing, eventually I was going to look like Sasquatch: nothing but a huge frown and a big old unibrow. Sexy. Not.

Jesse cackled and called. And gleefully scooped up everyone’s chips. Alana’s eyes widened—he had totally invaded her space to grab at her stash—but she didn’t say anything. That half-smile apparently hadn’t been worth as much as she’d thought. She chewed at her lip furiously.

I sighed, squinted, and sat up straighter in my seat. “Another hand?” Jesse looked surprised, but I pressed on. “Come on, people, um, are we playing, or what?”

Or what, as it turned out.

I mean, not that we didn’t play. We played exactly five more hands. And then I
had to call it a night. Not because I didn’t want to keep going, but rather because by that point I was completely tapped out. I had no more cash, and no one was interested in playing for my tortoiseshell hair clip. Short of playing strip poker—which was
so
not happening—I was out of options.

Jesse was the big winner of the night. Which wasn’t a surprise to anyone who’d, like, had eyes in their head during the game. He won almost every hand. I knew he was a decent player, but nothing like this. Even Marcus was stunned.

“Good game,” he said, shaking Jesse’s hand grudgingly at the end of the evening.

Jesse nodded. “You too.” Whatever, he could afford to be magnanimous after he’d walked off with all of our cash. If I was going to keep playing poker, I was going to have to find a new babysitting gig or something, and soon. Maybe Maxine would pay me to walk her?

Yeah, not so much.

I busied myself clearing up. This was officially the second time I’d been humiliated by the joint efforts of Jesse and Alana. That was two times more than the approved humiliation level recommended by doctors
and teen-magazine advice columnists. I was just stuffing some trash into the garbage bag when a voice came out of nowhere, breathing all sorts of hot air on the back of my neck.