Heartless People |Book 3|

Chapter 2

"I am, indeed, a king, because I know how to rule myself."

—Pietro Aretino

LISA

DAY 11

My gaze swept over them, their bodies hunched, trying to block my view of their hands. I hated being in situations such as this.

Throwing another packet of ketchup into the center, the three inmates glanced at me.

"You're bluffing," Chris, a small black man with a scar marring his face, said with a frown.

"I don't bluff, even for five million," I replied before returning my gaze to the cards in my hand.

"Fuck, bro, I'm out," Justin, Chris' lover said, as he threw the cards onto the center. They weren't open about their love affair, but I could tell.

"I was out a while ago," the eldest, Matty, muttered before folding his hand.

One by one, they all folded until it was only the blabbermouth and me.

He stared into my eyes, looking for any signs of weakness, with a frown on his lips before he finally folded as well. A Grinch-like grin spread across my face as I showed them my hand.

"You bastard! You fucking played us!" Chris snapped, rising from his seat.

"I think the correct term is bluffing," I said, as I took all the packets of ketchup.

Matty glared, crossing his arms. "What happened to not bluffing, even for five million?"

"Rule eight: Money is money. If you can't make it, then take it," I replied, already shuffling up the deck. "Now, I better have my money by tomorrow."

Chris spat to the side of him. Then he walked to the other side of the cafeteria and spoke with a few of their people, hopefully about getting me my money. Chris was part of a street crew who most likely sold my drugs at a higher price to people in his neighborhood. It was one of the drawbacks of using middlemen. Once they bought the product from us, it was no longer our concern, they could sell it at any price they wanted. I didn't mind that. What pissed me off was when they tried to mix their own shit into it, as if they were bloody scientists. The idiots didn't realize that if a person overdosed, we would lose customers and profit. Anything that took money out of my pockets needed to be dealt with.

"Your money will be wired to you, Manoban," Chris sneered when he came back. He sat back down, but he didn't touch the cards.

Glancing up, I noticed O'Connor waiting at the last table on the left; across from him sat The Spoon.

"Good to know men in jail keep their word."

"What, you think you're better than us?" Matty hissed through his blackened teeth.

"You don't want to know what I think," I said before standing up. "I've pressed my luck enough for the day, thanks for the game."

"How the fuck am I going to win my money back?" Chris yelled.

"You don't," I replied.

As I was about to take my leave, he grabbed onto my arm. Looking down at his fingers, my jaw clenched

"Chris," Justin muttered under his breath.

The entire cafeteria froze. No one dared to breathe. O'Connor, along with The Spoon rose, all of them ready for another violent day.

"If you want to keep your arm, you should let go," I told him simply.

His eyes widened as he did what I asked. "Ms. Manoban, I'm—"