Page 158 of The Faking Game
The next evening is our last one. It’s what the entire Lost Weekend has built to, and it hangs in the humid air, the scent of jasmine and anticipation. A poker table has been set up on the terrace outside the villa.
I have played poker before, but it was a good while ago, so I read up on the rules earlier today by the pool. The chips I’ve won during the days here are in my bag. A jangle of black and red plastic, and I slot them through my fingers.
Alex is already sitting at the poker table. One leg bent over the other, his hands braced against his shin. He still plays a lot of sports, and you can tell in the muscles bunched beneath his shirt. He’s the heir to a whiskey empire that practically runs itself. Too much money and too little sense.
He grins when he sees me. “You made it.”
“Of course.” I hold up my stack of chips. “Please tell me you guys will trash talk. I’ve been practicing insults in my room for the past half hour.”
He laughs. “That’s the spirit, lass. Come. Sit next to me. Calloway will be here soon. Our dear duke just went to get some more liquor. Your brother, I don’t know. Probably working on that deal he’s trying to close.”
“He does love to work,” I say.
“They all do. It’s their one failing.”
I sit next to Alex. “I’ve heard you guys can get pretty intense during these games.”
He nods to the pool behind us. “Someone’s going to get tossed in there tonight.”
“Really?”
“Yes.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I’ll be the one doing the tossing,” he says.
I roll my eyes. “God, I walked into that one.”
“You did, and I thank you for it.” He looks past me, and his grin widens. “Look at that. He finally tore himself away from ruling his empire.”
Rafe joins us. He’s holding a drink in one hand, and in the other, he’s got a small box. He sits to my right. “You sure you remember how to play?”
“Yes. You’re the one who taught me, so if I’m bad, you know whose fault it is.”
Rafe lifts an eyebrow. “I like the attitude.” He nods at Alex. “We’ve got over a decade of seeing through each other’s bluffs. No one knows yours. Use that to your advantage.”
“If you coach me too well, I might win,” I tell him. “Do you really want me in charge of where your next lost weekends will be?”
Rafe runs a hand through his dark hair. “You can try. And don’t go head-to-head with Alex in recklessness. He’ll win every time.”
“I’m sitting right here,” Alex says. “And thank you.”
“That wasn’t a compliment.”
“Sure it was.”
“Are you giving your sister tips on how to win?” West asks. He’s appeared opposite me, hand gripping the back of a chair. The gravity shifts beneath my feet, and I straighten up in my seat.
He slept in this morning. He cursed when we woke up, kissed my forehead, and slipped out my door as quietly as possible.
“Or he’s ensuring I lose,” I say lightly. “I can’t be sure yet.”
“I’d never. Family over everything,” Rafe says, but he’s wearing a crooked grin that tells me he’s full of it.
“Where’s James?”
“He’s tending his dukedom,” Rafe says.
