High Stakes (2 page)

“How was it?”

“All right. I’m just glad it’s over.” I make a bone-cracking yawn as I descend the steps to Columbia’s main campus. I eye my dormitory building and think about my bed with its soft comforter.

“Are you ready to get wasted?”

“Aaah—”

“Come on! I’ll meet you in front of the library.”

“I don’t really have any money to spend.” Especially since I just agreed to give Mom my entire food budget for this month.

“
My treat! Don’t worry about it!”

“But—”

“
You can let me pay for something once in a while, God! I’ll meet you there.”

The phone is dead and I shove my phone back inside my H&M purse. My fingers stroke the soft, brown leather. It’s one of my most prized possessions, plucked from the bottom of a bargain bin at Ross.

My cheeks burn at the thought of having Maria pay for our drinks. I know it’s a small thing, but it still grates my nerves. I don’t like owing people anything, and I usually have the money to afford my own drinks. The last thing I want to do is take a leaf from my mother’s book.

I’m doused in fire as I think about the money. I’m furious with my mother. She’s a pox, the fucking cancer in my life, always dragging me down when I’m trying to carve out a life for myself. I can’t cut her out of my life.

She’s all I have.

Then I hate myself for all these horrible thoughts, because who thinks such horrible thoughts about their own mother?

It’s a vicious circle.

There’s no time to dwell on it. I have nothing to wear to go out—nothing really nice. Everything I own was bought or stolen from Ross, the unwanted clothes that filtered down fashion designer stores into their vast collection of mostly subpar crap.

That’s probably why guys always skip over me when we go out. It’s as if I don’t exist. Their eyes move over me like I’m a piece of furniture, inevitably settling on my more attractive and better dressed friend, Maria.

What’s wrong with me? Am I just completely unattractive?

I’m a bottle of pent-up fury as I walk towards the massive, dome like library and sit on the steps halfway up. Students mill everywhere, enjoying the sunshine to read their textbooks and jot down a last minute scrap of homework. I want to slap the textbooks out of their hands. I want to strangle the hordes of rich kids happily discussing their summer break. The beige steps gleam in the sun and I squint my eyes, wishing I could afford better sunglasses.

I’m an angry, bitter bitch. Don’t judge me.

Cheer up
, a voice inside me says.
Stop being so mopey.

But I can’t help but feel resentful as hell, and my eyes won’t stop staring at the pair of unguarded sunglasses, sitting on top of a pile of textbooks, just begging to be stolen. My hand darts out and grabs them, stuffing them in my purse before anyone can blink. Heart pounding, I sit on the steps, my leg muscles tense.

Stealing is wrong. I know it is. It’s pathetic. It’s low. The men who killed my father robbed my house. So why do I keep doing it? What the fuck is wrong with me?

Finally, Maria stops in front of me in tiny, white shorts. Her bronzed legs sparkle in the sun and she stoops down to wave in front of my face. Giant sunglasses obscure half her face and I smile at how ridiculous she looks. Normally, I would hate someone like Maria. She’s rich, entitled, and has the perfect family life I always wanted. Unlike most rich, entitled people, she’s shared everything with me. Even her family. Somehow, she broke through to my black little heart and earned its trust.

“Are you ready, hooker?”

I stand up wearily. “I’m not getting wasted.”

“You are. I’m getting us shots of Patron as soon as we get there!”

“Where?”

“Stone Rose Lounge.”

I groan as she mentions the super upscale bar with its uptight patrons. The only thing I would be able to afford there was perhaps an olive.

“It has great views of the park!”

“Lets just go to a dive bar around campus.”

I hoard my money on my MetroCard and I don’t want to spend what little I have going to a bar. Maria’s disappointed frown makes me swell with guilt.

“I know that I’m a lame friend,” I say in a low voice. “I’m sorry. I just can’t hang out as much as you want to. I wish I could.”

She grabs my arm, stopping us as she tips her head to look at me above her sunglasses. “Ade, don’t worry about it. It’s no problem. Let’s just find a bar around campus.”

Her little pink smile almost makes me tear up. God, what’s wrong with me today? I nod and walk forward, blinking rather fast. We walk down a couple blocks to 1020, the go-to dive bar for Columbia students. There’s no sign, just white printed letters on an unassuming, green tarp: 1020. It’s already packed with students celebrating the end of finals week. We squeeze ourselves in, Maria holding her fake ID, and cram against the backs of people trying to order at the bar. A projector plays
Goodfellas
against the back wall and the sound of people talking and the music is deafening.

It’s happy hour, and a big sign written in white chalk advertises two-dollar beers. Maria bellies up to the counter, somehow attracting the bartender’s attention immediately in a way that I could have never done. He’s a scruffy looking guy with tattoos all over his arms. His gaze flicks down Maria’s low-cut shirt before meeting her beaming gaze.

“Two beers!”

In seconds, Maria hands me a dripping mug of golden beer. We clink our glasses together and drink. She tugs my elbow and we squeeze deeper into the bar, somehow finding a table scattered with peanut shells and wet rings. I ease into the wooden chair with a sigh. Damn, it feels good. It’s cheap beer, but it fills my belly with warmth.

One drink, I tell myself. You’ll have one drink tonight.

It’s so easy to find comfort in alcohol. One’s hardly enough. Three or four? Now, you’re talking. But I’m trying to ease up on the drinking. It’s so hard to give up. It instantly quiets the noise in my head, and I feel more peaceful. Safe, even.

“After this we’re doing shots.” Maria’s innocent looking face smirks as I make a face, and then her hand dives into her Prada bag to search for her buzzing, jeweled phone. “It’s Jackie. He’s gonna join us.”

Jackie is her cousin, who I’ve known just as long as Maria. The two of them always got along pretty well. He is always at every birthday party and family function. He’s there at every Sunday dinner, which Maria would bring me along occasionally. They are more like siblings, really. I try not to seethe with jealousy whenever I see them together.
I
want that. I want a brother, a sister, and a slew of cousins. How could anyone ever feel lonely with such a big family? All I ever had was Mom, who never made me feel loved.

I swallow a huge gulp of beer and hide behind my glass, as if the people in the bar can read my ugly thoughts. It would make Mom cry.

I’m a terrible daughter. I’ve resigned myself to that fact for years.

A pair of jocks tap Maria’s shoulder and she looks over her shoulder, sunglasses still on, to judge them with a single swipe of her eyes. A smile flits on her face, neither inviting nor rejecting them.

The taller one with a Yankees baseball cap shouts something, but we can’t hear it in the din. He leans closer to her ear. Maria straightens and nods at them. She points towards the pool tables in the back and mimes aiming a cue. I shake my head. I’ll stay here, I mouth to her.

Just like that, she’s disappears with the two jocks. We weren’t even here fifteen minutes.

For ten minutes, I sit there by myself in the darkness like an asshole, not even attempting to socialize. All alone, sipping my beer like it’s a lifeline. Unable to take it anymore, I fish a deck of cards out of my purse and lay them on the table, playing a quick game of solitaire.

Occasionally, I scan the bar filled with college students. I find a handsome face and I wonder what it’d be like to have him as a boyfriend. His eyes dart towards me, as if he can feel me staring at him, and I quickly look back down to my game.

Coward
.

This just isn’t my realm. In the classroom, I’m comfortable. I destroy every exam I come across. My intelligence isn’t a gift; I’ve worked hard my whole life to get good grades. Something about getting those exams back makes me feel good about myself. Nobody could take that away from me. Lately, though, the satisfaction isn’t the same.

Or maybe I’ve finally realized how goddamn empty my life is.

“You!”

A male voice cuts through the din and I look up to see a red-faced, bearded guy looking down on me. My senses immediately go on high alert. Bristling, I fix the guy with a glare.

“What?”

“I want to buy me—I mean, you, a drink.”

How fucking perfect. Nothing annoys me more than being hit on by drunken idiots. I can’t trust men in bars. They just want something from you, and there’s no way to figure out what until you go home with them. Who knows? He could be a rapist. A jolt of fear makes me scan the bar. Any one of them could be, really.

“No thanks.”

“I mean it! I want to buy you a drink.”

“Go away.”

The heat in my voice makes him blink. He stumbles away with a slightly hurt look on his face, and I turn back to my drink, forgetting him almost instantly.

“Hey!”

I jump a bit in my seat as Jackie sits down in front of me. He’s not a big guy. Probably around my height with short black hair and an olive skinned face. Jackie has a boyish, trusting face. It’s one that I’ve seen countless times, so I can’t help but feel comforted when he smiles at me.

“Where’s Maria?”

I smirk and nod my head towards the back. She’s already wearing the jock’s baseball cap and I can almost hear her giggling all the way over here. “She’s doing her thing.”

Maria leans over the pool table as she takes a shot, her tits nearly falling out.

“
Maddon
.” He shakes his head at his cousin and averts his gaze to the cards on the table. “Wanna play Blackjack or something?”

He knows me too well. “Sure. Get yourself a drink.”

Jackie sits back down with a beer and we take turns dealing and playing. My eyes scan over the cards flipped down, keeping a mental tally of the ratio of high value cards to low.

If I only I had the guts to try this at a casino, I would be rich.

“How do you do that?”

I shrug. “It’s all probability. Counting card values.”

Suddenly, Maria returns with her jocks, all of them a little more tipsy than they were an hour ago.

“Jackie-boy!”

She bends down to affectionately give her cousin a kiss. Her cheeks glowing, she introduces us to the meat-heads who stand on either side of her like boulders. I forget their names immediately. Jackie rises from his seat to gather more chairs. The whole bar is in full swing, but somehow the jocks’ massive bodies block the sound from reaching our inner circle.

“So, we’re playing Blackjack?”

I sink into a happy, warm stupor as the cards fly out of Maria’s hands. She doesn’t know all the rules so I have to constantly remind her what to do. I know the ratio of high cards to low. The higher the ratio of high value cards in the shoe, the more I would bet. Since we aren’t betting, all I have to concern myself with are the odds.

I imagine the chips piling up in little heaps. If this were a casino, I would be rich.

Too bad card counting will get you kicked out.

The one with the Yankees baseball cap frowns at me, his bushy eyebrows furrowed in confusion. I can almost hear his thoughts:
How is this chick winning?

“She counts cards,” Jackie pipes up, sounding a bit drunk.

I elbow his side and he grunts.

“Well that’s not fair,” one of them protests.

My eyes wander over the table, unintentionally adding a one or subtracting. I can’t help myself. Even if I wanted to, I can’t play a game without the ratios burning in my head.

They seem determined to beat me, and Maria looks at me with a grudging smile.

“I’m bored!” She stands up with her purse and yawns.

“Wait—” One of them wakes up, finally notices that the hot girl is leaving and that he better make a move.

To my amazement, his gaze is pulled back towards the game. He gives me an irritated look and stands up after her. “Can I get your number?”

I roll my eyes as I watch Maria’s crossed arms.

“Nah. I don’t date guys who can’t beat my friend at cards.”

Wow. That’s bitchy, even for her. Jackie laughs behind his hands and I kick his foot.

He leans over to me as they argue. “Hey, want to go to a real card game this weekend?”

The hushed tone in his voice piques my interest. “What do you mean?”

“High-stakes. It’s five thousand just to sit in. You should come and watch.”

His round eyes are big with excitement.

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Chapter 2

 Maria hogs the full-length mirror in our apartment, posing in her pink dress, her long, black hair shining down her back. I admire the way the dress hugs her curves and wince at my own reflection partially hidden behind her. All I have are jeans and t-shirts with varying degrees of shabbiness. I haven’t bought so much as a sock in several years.

She bites her pink lip as her dark lashes wink towards me. “You’re going to wear
that
?” she says delicately.

My face burns, confronted with my own inadequacy. “I know. I don’t really have anything.”

Maria revolves around me and I see myself standing in the mirror with my tired jeans and faded black shirt. I look awful. There’s no way I can go to this fancy card game.

“Fuck it. I’ll just stay here.”

“Don’t be stupid. Just pick something from my closet.”

Before I can speak, she marches to her closet and slides open the door, carefully studying her collection, which is sorted by color. Her thin arm rifles through its contents, picking out a black body-conscious dress with lace in the front and back. She grins. “Try this.”