Across the Hall

First Down

One night Maeve arrived in the middle of a poker game. That was tough for two reasons. One, trying to decipher the boys' expressions amidst the cigar smoke, she felt just as foggy on the rules and combinations she was supposed to want, and two, because she'd really just come to head to Patrick's room. They were switching the order of things.

Jack pulled out the empty chair next to him and she took it, trying to look at ease until she really was. Dan got a beer from the fridge and put it in front of her, and Harry took the bottle opener in front of him and cracked it open. Patrick nodded. Perhaps he smiled. Then he went back to his cards.

"So," Dan said, turning to Maeve with a puff, "will you be a secret ringer?"

The air smelled fruity and she realized the cigars must be flavored. She sniffed. Grape.

"A hustler?" Harry asked her, smiling. They were both smiling and it made her smile too. If it felt at times that Jack held a shovel, she imagined them with their arms wide open, drawing people in, a net underneath should anyone lose their footing. She admired them.

"I won't hustle you, but I do hope to be good," she said.

"That's just what a ringer would say," Dan said.

Jack was dealing. "Do you need a refresher on the rules?" he asked.

She peeked at him. "Maybe a little one. I know the hardest part is remembering when to play and when to fold."

"You could be like Patrick," Harry said, "overplay every hand and end with one chip left after five rounds."

"I'm very brave," Patrick said.

"You're mispronouncing stubborn," Dan said.

"Don't take advice from Jack," Patrick said, "you'll end up never playing a full game and losing money each round, death by a thousand cuts."

"Better than a throat slit. I thought that last game almost had you and again," Harry said, "it's only been five rounds. You're bleeding out."

"So you feel caught up?"

Maeve turned and Jack was smiling at her, with nearly all his teeth showing. She blinked. All that toothy whiteness. He was teasing.

"Definitely," she said. "There's five suits, right?"

"You are a ringer," he said, smiling still, and put his phone on the table. "I could use a refresher myself."

The screen showed all the poker combinations that were worth anything.

"That's cheating," Patrick protested.

Maeve smiled at Jack's phone. She didn't want to risk seeing all his teeth again. "Thank you."

~

The boys were all ruthless in their own way, too sure, too direct, too good at bluffing. Maeve's heart was racing but she also couldn't stop giggling. The boys argued as often as they bet, poking at each other, like the verbal equivalent of the Three Stooges. Jack was the quietest of the bunch. She didn't think he'd count as a stooge. The hardest part was raising. It felt mean sometimes or too confident, like she'd jinx herself if she thought she had a good hand.

When she raised, Dan always folded. "You're too honest," he told her.

"Plus, you have a bad habit of checking the phone for the combos," Harry said. "Be sneakier, will you?"

Patrick usually raised more, grinning at her. Jack would squint at her for a long while, trying to read her face. His suspicion of her never seemed to lesson.