“All in,” I say, shoving my blue and red chips into into the middle of the table.

We’re playing poker in the back lounge of Midnight Ride, and everyone is out of the game already, other than Axel and I. The other guys sit and stand around sipping beers and watching the two of us finish our game of Texas Hold ‘em.

Axel is up on me, and probably has about fifty percent more chips than I do.

“So now the question you gotta ask yourself,” Axel lowers his voice. “Is are you feeling lucky?”

I shake my head. “Dude, I’m twenty-nine, not twenty-one. My days of betting you the keys to my jag for two weeks are over.”

“Awww, come on. I want to get out on the lounge floor soon. My date tonight keeps texting me.” Holding his cards tight to his chest, he glances at them first, then drifts to the river cards in the middle of the table.

“Let’s make a deal.”

“I don’t think so. I know how your mind works.”

Axel and I have a history of finding creative ways for us to go all in on pots like this. There was the time he lost to me and had to sprint around the house naked in the dead of winter. Or the time I had to chug a bottle of cholula. So this is just part and parcel of how we play poker.

"Come on," Ax smirks. "I got a hell of an idea to start tonight off with a bang. I don't want to keep playing poker all night, I want to flirt with my date who's just about arrived. Do you agree?"

I lean back in my chair and cross my arms. I'm not the kind of guy who goes down without a fight. On the other hand, Ax is right. If we don't end the game now, we could go all night. Hell, we've spent many a night up until six a.m., slow playing and each refusing to back down. Get a couple of competitive guys with big egos together, and this is what you get.

Ax won't let me cover the chips with money out of my own pocket, because this was a thousand dollar buy-in, and it wouldn't be fair to flood the game with more chips. But he won’t let me get off without something big. And from the looks of his devious grin, he’s got a sneaky idea in mind right now.

Looking at my two cards—the King of Clubs and the Ace of Spades, I feel pretty good. Especially with a King and an Ace already on the flop.

“Fine,” I say. “What are you thinking?”

He leans forward and cocks his head. “How are your moves these days?”

“Moves?” I arch an eyebrow. The other guys standing around us tune in, curious.

“Yes. You know what I’m talking about. Dazzling Damien.”

The guys chuckle, and I throw my head back in realization. When I got back from the Marine Corps at twenty-three years old, I needed a way to make some extra cash. Turns out when you are ripped as hell with a ton of tattoos, you make a lot of tips as a male stripper.

Okay, yeah, I admit it. I did for a year—and the money was good. Really fucking good.

But it’s not a past that I necessarily want to revisit. Especially on a night when all I planned on doing was wing-manning for my best buddy.

“Dude, the days of Dazzling Damien are long gone,” I protest.

“Of course they are,” Ax winks. “But we’re playing let’s make a deal, remember?”

I sigh. “Let’s hear it.”

“You win the hand, it’s game over, obviously. I have about five grand of chips here,” he stacks his chips as he sets them in the middle. “You’ve got maybe two grand. If you win, you take all of mine. However, if I win, I get your chips, and you have to go out on the stage and do one dance to a song of my choosing.”

The other guys, who have been watching us, whistle and hoot.

I think about my cards again, and wonder what cards Axel has that have him feeling so confident. So far we’ve got a King, Ace, and a four on the flop. No way he’s beating my hand unless he has pocket aces, which is unlikely.

“Fuck it,” I say. “Count me in.”

“Hell, yeah,” Axel says, pushing all of his chips to the middle. It’s not about the money for either of us.

It’s about the adrenaline surge and the bragging rights.

“Cards face up,” the dealer says.

Since we’re all in, it doesn’t matter who sees our cards.

Axel crosses his arms at my Ace and King.

He’s got a queen and a Jack.

I rub my hands together. “Come on baby show me the money!”

The dealer looks at me like I’m a little insane as he deals the turn. It’s a two of hearts, and I smile. It’s no help to either of us, which means I am still in the position to win.

“Hey no worries Ax,” I grin. “When I take your money, I’ll be nice enough to buy the first round of drinks.”

“Fuck that,” he mutters. “I’m gonna make you pay for that tattoo today.”

The river card comes, and my jaw drops.

A ten.

“That’s an Ace-Ten Straight for Axel,” the dealer says. “Congratulations, Sir.”

I bite my lip, and Axel shoots me the same shit-eating grin that I had one minute ago. “Better get those hips ready,” he says, doing a little back-and-forth in his chair.

“I hate you,” I grin, shaking my head.

“Hey Frankie,” Axel calls to the lounge bouncer, standing up. “Can you tell T-Bone we’ll have a special guest dancer on the stage tonight?” Axel points at me.

“Damien? Damien’s gonna get on stage?”

Axel nods. “He lost a bet. Queue up this song for me, will yah?”

He slips Frankie a piece of paper.

I stand up, and I want to protest—but I’m a man of my word. If I take a bet, I go through with it, no matter how frivolous and immature it may seem. I sigh though, and I think how I’m getting a little too old for this shit. For some reason, my mind wanders to the previous night. I think about how satisfied I felt, my warm, naked body pressed up against Krista while we slept all tangled up on her couch.

That’s what I want. I want to be getting to know her tonight. I lower my eyes, and slide my hand into my pocket to look at my phone. Why hasn’t she texted me back? She said her work was canceled tonight. I hope she’s not talking to that Nick fucker anymore.

“Damien. DAMIEN,” Axel calls.

“What?” I snap out of my daydream. “You okay? They’ve got an opening on the stage right now. Knock ‘em dead, Dazzling Damien.”

I take a pull of my beer to finish off the drink. “Let’s rock,” I say in a gravelly voice. A pang of adrenaline hits me, and I have flashbacks to when I was twenty-three.

As I head out on the stage, I hear them hooting and hollering as the music begins.

“Here,” Axel says. “Put this on.”

He hands me a giant dragon mask. “You know, so your mom doesn’t recognize you on stage.”

“I always knew you were into some weird shit,” I jab as I put the thing over my face.

Not like many people in the audience would recognize me. Hell, I barely even get out anymore. But when I hear the song, I’m already plotting ways to get revenge on Axel.

I put the dragon mask on.

On the plus side, I can’t see shit with this thing on, so I don’t have to worry about looking out at the crowd, my least favorite part of the show.