A Different Kind of Outsider

Aces High

Tim didn't pay it any mind as he led me straight to the back to a poker table. I wasn't sure where he even heard about these games. I wasn't about to ask either. He'd probably just brush me off, tell me I didn't need to worry about it. Even though, I was the one he was using to make the money.

Tim sat down at the end of the table before pulling me onto his lap without a word. I kept my eyes casted downwards towards the table. That wasn't too much of a problem. That was the easy part of this whole operation. Immediately the other guys at the table noticed me.

"What's with the little girl? Couldn't find a babysitter?" One of the them asked. His voice sounded thick with an accent I couldn't quite place but I could guess southern or appalachian. I didn't look at his face but I saw his knuckles were tattooed. It looked horribly done though.

"Don't worry about it." Tim replied bitterly, donning a meaner voice. I had a feeling he was glaring at the the guy while holding me tighter. I did as I was supposed and started rocking back and forth on his lap and making humming noises as I jerked more than I usually did.

I felt gross playing into everyone's assumptions. Especially acting like this when this wasn't how my autism actually affected me. It felt wrong even though I knew I was doing it for my family. It worked, I could hear the men around us snickering and making comments. One guy made a comment to his friend that made me want to shrink back but I had to pretend like I didn't understand.

"Think the tough guy would let me have my way with the little retard if I paid him?" One of the older guys joked to his friend. It was a whisper so I doubt Tim heard it but I did. If Tim had heard it then this night would've ended in a bloody mess before the poker game even started. Memories flooded my brain and I had force them away as quickly as I could.

The comments started to die down once the game actually started. I watched the cards get passed out and stared at Tim's hand. I couldn't do much mental math as it was the beginning of the game but considering the two aces in our corner, it wasn't looking bad. As I kept my sight on the cards, Tim watched everyone else. Tim could do what I couldn't and that was read people. He was good at watching for tells and seeing who was bluffing and what not.

As we got deeper into the game, that's when our signals started. It mostly consisted of patting Tim's thigh a certain number of times or in a pattern. Basically it was my way of telling him his chances and how much he should bet without really telling him. I was still keeping up the act that I was nothing more than his disabled little sister that couldn't think for herself. A alternate personality that didn't hold much truth to it yet the men around us were eating it up.

I continued to count cards as the guys around use scoffed as Tim won. I patted his leg, telling him he needed to ease up so there was no ounce of suspicion. As the game continued, one of the guys who was no clearly drunk reached out to touch me. I never understood why people where so keen on trying to touch me. Especially when they saw I was disabled. Was that a thing? I remember there used to be a guy in a wheelchair who lived close by. People were always keen on touching him and not a normal amount. What was the thought process? That they could heal us or something?

I had to force myself not to jerk back as his hand drew closer. Thankfully Tim noticed and grabbed his wrist without looking up from his cards.

"Don't. Fucking. Touch. Her." Tim warned as he harshly let go of the guy's wrist. He was probably holding back from jumping across the table and punching the dude. Even so the drunk man seemed to ignore what my brother was saying.

"She's not too bad looking for a 'tard." He slurred his words as he went to touch me again. He stopped short when Tim lifted up his shirt to show the heater tucked into his waistband.