Harley, I am so sorry for doing this to you, but there is no other way. Stay safe. Stay smart. I love you. Dad.
That note was the only thing my parents had left me with, before dropping me off at the orphanage when I was three. I was bounced around from one foster home to another after that. It was rarely a pretty picture, and my father’s advice somehow helped me retain my sanity. Even now, as I glided into adulthood, I kept looking at that note for guidance, whenever a part of me wavered. As a foster kid, I always had to “stay safe” and “stay smart,” though the two rarely went hand in hand.
When the turn was dealt, I glanced around the poker table again.
Each of these people had their stories to tell. They had first names and last names, parents and grandparents, uncles and distant cousins, social security numbers and student loans. In my twisted view of the world, they existed, while I was just a visitor of sorts. Always on the outside, looking in.
I had no identity. Just a name on paper. I rented an apartment in Park West and pinpointed cheaters in casinos for a living. Nobody knew anything about me or my… special skills, and I was okay with that.
“I’ll raise you twenty,” the male cool cucumber said, looking at the equally chilled female across the table.
In the eyes of everyone else, they didn’t know each other. They were complete strangers exchanging pleasantries during a game of Texas Hold’em, where tens of thousands of dollars were at stake. But I could feel the physical attraction between them. The guy was head over heels in love with her. She was just as crazy about him. There was a familiarity between them, an intense emotion that they couldn’t hide from me. That was the downside of being an empath; I felt every emotion as if it were my own.
I basically had the hots for both of them, as if we’d been together for years. Ugh…
When the river was dealt, I could almost hear the guy’s heart thumping out of his chest. His excitement filled me to the brim, and, judging by the looks the couple exchanged briefly, unbeknownst to anyone else, they were ready to do some good old-fashioned whipsawing—raising and re-raising each other until they trapped another player in between.
And I knew exactly who their target was for this round. The other female, one of the compulsive gamblers. She was nervous, her eyes darting across the five cards now shown on the table: a seven of clubs, a queen of diamonds, a five of clubs, a jack of clubs and another queen, of hearts.
My hand was weak. All I could offer was a pair of fives. I folded, clicking my teeth.
“Maybe next time.” I smirked, then leaned back in my seat.
As expected, the cucumbers started teasing each other.
“I’m thinking it’s a good night,” the guy said, then tossed a few red chips on the pile gathering in the middle of the table. “Thirty.”
“Your overconfidence could be your weakness,” the girl said, grinning, and raised him another thirty, her tongue passing over her pearly white teeth. The tight, jade-colored dress she wore was meant to arouse, and based on what I was reading from the guy, she was getting the desired results.
I shifted in my chair, slightly uncomfortable with feeling someone else’s arousal, but stayed focused nonetheless. The girl’s outfit looked expensive. They weren’t here to play for pennies.
“I’m in,” the female gambler replied, tossing her own share of chips, worth thirty thousand dollars, while the fourth player folded, shaking his head.
The cucumbers seemed to ignore the woman, and continued taunting each other, while the dealer watched, amusement twinkling in his eyes.
“Raise you another thirty,” cucumber girl said, grinning, as the guy bit the inside of his cheek and added more chips to the pile.
“You’re bluffing,” he replied. “Thirty.”
The female compulsive gambler frowned, but the energy coming from her echoed confidence. She felt like she had a good hand. A really good hand. My guess was that it had something to do with the queens. She raised them another thirty, then narrowed her eyes at her own cards.
“I’m not bluffing,” the girl said. She raised an eyebrow and pushed forty thousand dollars’ worth of chips forward. “Raise.”
The guy scoffed, scratching the back of his neck as he contemplated his choices for a couple of seconds. The female gambler, on the other hand, had quickly sunk into despair. I realized then that maybe her hand wasn’t all that good. If I wanted to confirm collusion between the cucumbers, I needed the lady to fold so I could then watch the guy fold as well, and let the girl win. It seemed like the natural way for it to play out at that point.
“Okay, now I’m pissed,” the guy said, and raised her another twenty.
The female gambler cursed under her breath and folded, nervously counting the chips she had left, while the cucumbers pretended to glower at each other. It was getting a little too dramatic for my taste. Even a non-empath could tell they were slightly over the top.