Fuck.
Kip’s eyes finally find mine and I realize he’s breathing just as hard as I am, his chest moving and ebbing under his vest. I try to steady my heartrate but it’s useless. If a heart doesn’t show on river, I’m screwed. I’m done. And as much as I don’t want to lose at all, I definitely don’t want to lose to Brendan. I don’t want third place. No one remembers third. If I’m going to go down, I want to lose to only one other person – the best. Brendan is amazing, but he’s not the best. And I don’t want to lose by his hand.
My heart is in my throat as the dealer burns a card and then slowly flips the river. I close my eyes for just a second, listening to the crowd’s mixture of gasps, claps, and groans. I don’t know if it’s safe to look, but I peek anyway.
Nine of hearts.
Thrusting my fist into the air, I join the crowd in celebrating for just a moment. Brendan moves to shake my hand and then just like that, he’s out. The adrenaline is still rushing through me when I take my seat again, the smile on my face absolutely ridiculous as I realize I just practically doubled my stack. But when my eyes find the matching pair of icy blues at the other end of the table, I swallow, my throat suddenly too dry for comfort.
It’s just me and Kip now.
There’s always a short break when it gets down to the final two. They make a show of it, having scantily clad women bring out briefcases stacked with cash and a glass case displaying the ridiculously expensive ring that goes to the champion. Do they ever have any half-naked men for the ladies of the poker world? Of course not. Damn them.
By the time the little show is over, Kip and I are both visibly anxious but trying to play it cool. By the way he’s looking at me, I can’t tell if he’s excited to be here or if this is his worst nightmare. Maybe he didn’t think it would be us two sitting here, maybe he thought he’d be out by now or hell maybe he thought I would be out by now. Truthfully, this isn’t what I expected, either. But here we are. And before I have the chance to truly register it, the first cards are dealt and it’s game time. I reach for my sunglasses but pause, letting my hand hover over the plastic for a moment before pulling back, grabbing my cards and flipping up the small corners just enough to see their value instead. Kip eyes me curiously, but I shrug.
I don’t want to hide my eyes, anymore.
The truth of the matter is that we’re here. This is happening. And as much as I want to be pissed and hurt, I’m stoked. I’m proud of Kip and I’m beyond excited that I’m here. One of us is going to leave here the champion of this tournament and the winner of close to a million dollars. This is something to celebrate. I smile at Kip before placing my first bet. “Sixty-thousand.” I move the chips forward and then lean back in my chair again, crossing my arms. “And a shot of tequila.”
Everyone in the viewing area laughs and I’m sure the announcers are having a hay day with my comment. They probably think I’m being a smart ass, or maybe they don’t understand it at all, but I don’t care because Kip smiles – a true, radiant, full-teeth smile.
“I kind of like tequila now.”
“Is that so?” I quirk my brow.
He shrugs, his smile growing even wider. “Acquired taste, I guess.”
I blush a little and he winks, and suddenly the table doesn’t feel so scary. He’s smiling, and that’s enough for me. We both visibly relax.
And then we play.
My tequila comment must have loosened Kip up, because by our thirtieth hand between each other, we’re cracking jokes back and forth, causing fits of laughter in the viewing area and even getting a smile from our dealer from time to time. We’re pretty much even chip-wise and we’re having way too much fun to be battling for almost a million dollars, but I love every minute of it.
But when we get up around forty hands and we both start pushing harder, we fall quiet, and I watch as Kip’s expression turns solemn. I know he’s thinking about his father, he’s digging to find the last push he needs to win this. I should be looking for the same, but for some reason, I already feel like I’ve won. I feel a sort of peacefulness fall over me as the dealer deals our cards. When he lays out the flop, my breath catches in my throat.
A pair of fours is on the table.
One club, and one spade.
Two black number fours.
My eyes flit to Kip’s just as his find mine. Maybe we should laugh at the irony, or at least smile at the coincidence, but we both just stare. And somewhere in those ocean blue eyes of his, I find what I’ve been searching for.
There are three things you should know about me.
One, I can read any bluff like a neon sign. Two, I have one of the best poker faces in the game. And three, I know when to fold.
But I couldn’t read Kip’s bluffs. He played his game on me and I fell for his every trick, thinking I had a handle on him when I didn’t even come close to touching him at all. And my poker face is gone, destroyed by the notion that maybe it’s okay to be myself and not hide behind it all the time. And maybe it’s those two truths that made me hold so strongly to my third rule – folding. I gave up on Kip, on us, on everything. For once, I walked away from a hand I maybe could have won if I would have stuck around. Kip Jackson has completely turned me on my ass, and now I’m not exactly sure who I am.
But I think I’m on my way to finding out.
When my hands move to my chips and I start slowly pushing them forward, Kip’s eyes flick down before catching mine again, realization settling in. He shakes his head slightly, but it only makes me move the chips forward faster. With a shaky breath, I say the words I’ve known all along.
“All in.”
And I know just as well as Kip does how this will end. Black fours are my death sentence in poker. Call it superstition, but I know it to be true. I won’t win this hand, and I know that, and Kip does, too. His eye are wide with panic and I know he doesn’t understand, but maybe one day I can explain it to him.
I know what this means to him, to his father. Second place will be more than enough to pay off school and set my family up for a while. And truth be told, even if it wasn’t, I would still be making this same move.
Sometimes we have to step back and ask ourselves what matters most. It’s so easy to get caught up in the titles, the money, the dreams and goals that we’re not even sure are our own anymore. But I know without a doubt that what matters most to me right now in this moment is Kip. And what matters most to him is his father. So we’re going to win this thing. Together. For Kip’s dad.
When Kip calls, he still has a small stack of chips, but I’m completely in. If I lose this hand, I’m out and Kip will win. We both stand and even though my eyes are fixed on the cards, I feel Kip’s burning the skin of my neck. One by one, the dealer slowly reveals the turn and the river, neither of which help my case. I had a pair of Kings when I went all in, but with three fours on the table and one in Kip’s hand, he beats me with a four of a kind. Four fours. And even though I knew what I was doing, I can’t help but feel a surge of pain in my chest when I realize I’ve lost.
The room explodes in cheers and I can just hear the announcers going on and on about how a fish won the tournament. I know that back at Palm South, the entire school is probably staring at their screens and wondering what the hell happened.
Game over.
A swarm of reporters crowd us as the half-naked women stand behind Kip with the cash and the dealer slips the ring on his finger. His eyes find mine across the crowd and I smile, shrugging a little, but before he can make his way over, I shake hands with the man handing me information on claiming my prize and then I leave. I turn toward the elevators and I just go. I don’t turn back, I don’t wait to hear him speak to the media or to shake his hand and take pictures. I just slip away, silently, letting the mixture of emotions wreck my soul as they flow through me.