RISEN
Yep. Cold fucking, ice-cold showers. That’s what’s in my future. Lots of them.
Walking back in here a little over an hour ago, we were right to come back. Strip poker it was, and my daft friend was thoroughly screwed.
“Go fish,” Harlow yells out happily.
“It’s not go fish, you bubblehead. It’s poker. Now, are you in or out?” Hallette, the resident card shark, is mystified by her friend’s unwillingness to understand the game that we’re playing.
Confusion runs across Harlow’s features as she counts her cards. Touching one by one, her bottom lip hangs low enough to just nick her chin. “But I thought I had to tell you I need more cards? Isn’t that what you say when you need them?”
“Idiocy. I’m surrounded by untrained monkeys.”
Sure, she’s missing her shirt, her capris, and sits comfortably in a blush bra and thin lace panties, but Hallette is playing her friends and Trevor like a pro. Tucking her cards tight to her body, she holds them lovingly. “Catty, it’s your turn. Call or raise.”
Trevor is in his low-slung jeans, no shirt, but a grin wide enough to see all his molars. He may act the hillbilly, but I’ve played cards with the shyster. Prick has squeezed at least five hundred bucks off me this year alone. Right now, he’s squeezing these girls for their apparel and loving every second of it.
“I raise you a shirt and one shot.” Beaming, Cathryne flicks her cards together, hides them against her body, then sucks back on her almost empty glass.
“Fine, fine. I accept your raise. Call.” Flipping his cards over one at a time, Trevor reveals a full house, aces high. Hallette frowns, turns hers over and giggles loudly. Her hand is full of threes; four of them to be exact.
Harlow, though, doesn’t look as pleased with her results. “This game sucks,” she huffs before rising to grab another glassful of brown liquid.
“You have to show your cards, Har. Don’t skip out on me now,” Cathryne pleads.
“Fine. Here’s mine.” Tossing them onto the table, she revels in the straight jack high, all spades.
“How do you have such luck when you have no idea what you’re doing?”
“There is no luck.”
“Then you must be the smartest stupid person in poker.”
No matter what, both Hallette and Trevor have lost, so each of them start to pour their shots and strip off another piece of clothing.
“Where are your cards in this whole menagerie, Cathryne?”
“I don’t think I did well.” Flipping them one by one, she reveals a royal flush.
“Fuck me!” Trevor yells.
“Okay,” Harlow chirps as she pulls off her sundress. Standing in a strapless purple bra, with nothing more than dental floss for underwear, she sits on the couch, crossing her legs as she awaits the show.
“I’m surrounded by sharks.” Trevor licks the remaining moisture from his shot glass, then pulls the belt free of his jeans, sending them reeling to the floor in a puddle. “I don’t know how you’re doing it, but somehow, you three are cheating.”
Laughing loudly, Harlow, Cathryne, and Hallette clink their glasses, sloshing the alcohol everywhere. Doll and I have been watching from the sidelines, as this dangerous game commenced.
Sauntering over, I join in on the laughter and liquid. “Losing to ladies, are we, Trev?”
“Fucking sharks. Every single one of these so-called ladies. I’m tellin’ ya. Next time, I’m hittin’ Vegas. They’re my ace in the hole.” He pats me on the shoulder and I do my best to avoid his nakedness. “How about you stop trying to lose so miserably and win remarkably. I don’t need to see your junk.”
“Not the first time, anaconda.” Trevor pours a thick glass of whiskey, plunking in a few cubes before handing it over to me.
“Who’s the anaconda and why?” Hallette chips in gleefully as a tiny burp escapes her mouth. Covering, she apologizes as the full attention of the room is now settled on me.
“Yeah, why do I call you that, Risen? Mind if I explain.”
Hell no. “I’d rather you not.”
“Then play with us. Win your explanation, or lose it and a few pieces of clothing.”
“I have no intention of playing. Someone has to be sober enough to help you all to bed.” Sipping the glass, savoring the sweet, yet crisp, cool bourbon, it rests on my tongue while I try to worm my way out of the game of poker.
“Nice try. We have Cassidy and Ciccero for that job. You’re off duty, Officer. You need to play. I want another peek at that ink,” Harlow chirps, cocking her head sideways with an evil grin.
“What ink?” China asks quizzically. I see I won’t get out of this game without at least winning a few hands, so I need to stay sober, and they need to be really drunk so I can escape unscathed.
Smacking Trevor on the back of the head, his chest-deep guffaw tells me I just stepped into his trap. “Fine, asshole. I’ll play, but don’t think I’ll let you win.”
“Risen, I won’t go lightly on you, so bring your A game.”
This is going to suck. I have to win. I have to win.
If I don’t, there’ll be a ton of explaining to China that I’d rather not get into yet.