MissDirection

Chapter 2

"Raise." Tom's eyebrow shot up at this grunt of a word. He wanted to smile, but he wouldn't. He had this round sealed.

That's why he loved poker. It was just as much about the cards in his hand as it was the expressions on his face. Whilst he could not control one, he knew very well how to play the other to his advantage.

"You sure about that, Bucky?" He asked, keeping his voice as polite as his question was not.

"My name is. Not. Bucky." His rather large opponent was reaching the end of his patience. True his name wasn't Bucky, but it should have been. Besides his buck teeth, he always shook his head violently every few minutes as if he was shaking off an invisible man trying to ride him.

"Sorry about that Bucky," Tom went on, his overconfidence getting to him. "Here you go, big boy." As he set down his cards, the whole room stilled. The fifteen people watching him, Bucky, the air of the dank car park around them. He moved his fingers from the cards, and it was like someone had unpaused a movie. Everything went back to being noisy again. Cheers resounded to announce Tom's victory, and he took the fat purse Bucky had put on the table as he walked away.

Unfortunately, this was the last straw for Bucky too. As thick as he was large, he grunted after Tom, "Hey, fucker! Stop!" He plodded his way to his opponent.

"Bucky!" He gasped dramatically, looking up to see the giant towering over him. "There is no reason to be so rude!"

The last thing Tom saw was the lunging fist and then pitch black.

~*☆*~

Tom awoke two hours and twenty three minutes later in a hospital bed. He didn't actually come to consciousness at one given moment. All he knew was he was having an uncomfortable sleep. The discomfort turned to pain. Before long, the pain was all he could think about. It was all over him, everywhere.

He slowly opened one swollen eye and saw a guy his age flicking through a sports magazine casually. The thirst hit Tom hard. "Water," he rasped to get the boy's attention.

"Wa-hey, Sleepin' Beauty's up, huh?" The guy's smile was too wide. His cheeriness annoyed Tom.

He rasped again, "Water."

"What's the magic word, now?"

"God, Henry. Give me the damned water," he croaked. Fortunately his words cane out menacingly. Unfortunately, Henry knew him too well to be intimidated. He teased Tom by pouring the water into the plastic cup really slowly, but quickly helped hold it up to his lips.

"How you feelin'?" Henry kept on beaming, his country accent really showing for some reason.

"Oh, I feel like I'm in heaven. What are you smiling so much for?" Tom asked suspiciously.

"I booked my ticket home," he sighed happily. "It's Cassy's wedding! God, I'm so damn excited...I feel like I'm the bride! And I finally get to go home, eat proper food, spend time with her and Robert and Jane... It's gonna be a good summer."

"Don't bother toning it down then," Tom grumbled. "Why hide your joy around a guy who may well be on his deathbed?"

"Seriously?" Henry asked. "Are you actually being that dramatic?"

"There's nothing dramatic about dying, Henry. Especially the long, tortorous type Bucky has put me through.

"God," chuckled Henry. "You're almost worse than Jane, you know that? I thought she was OTT, but you win man."

Tom tried sitting up. Bad move- pain flooded his head worse than ever before. "What's wrong with me anyway? I'm guessing the doctors have seen me."