I don’t have three kings. The mini genius is a card shark. Bailey and Kam are professional-level poker players, and they taught Harper how to play. The little hustler conned us out of hundreds of dollars just a few weeks ago at Tanner’s bachelor party.
Harper and Bailey shared bemused looks. Layton narrows his eyes at Harper. “Does he really have three kings?”
She shrugs. “I’ll guess you’ll have to throw more money in the pot to find out, Uncle Layton.”
Harper looks up at me and winks. Little fucking devil. I love this kid.
After I win the hand, thanks to the ringer in my lap, I feel my phone buzz. Pulling it out, I see that it’s Kennedy.
Wifey: Can we reschedule tomorrow?
Why am I hit with a pang of disappointment? I look forward to our twice-weekly practice sessions.
Me: Sure thing. Everything okay, wife?
Wifey: I better not still be listed as wifey in your contacts. You’re listed as dickless in mine.
Me: The way you were limping in Vegas suggests otherwise.
Wifey: Can you feel my eyes rolling?
Me: I can! Know that you’re just a black flag emoji in my contacts. Black like your soul.
Wifey: You flatter me. You’re not really dickless in mine. You’re a red flag emoji.
Me: Your husband would like to know why you’re canceling our date.
Wifey: I’m going to a nine-year-old’s softball game.
I glance down at the little nine-year-old softball player in my lap. She smiles up at me. “Who’s wifey?”
“You’re a nosy little thing. I’ll give you a carton of Skittles if you promise not to tell anyone at this table about the name wifey.”
“Make it two cartons,” she immediately negotiates.
I narrow my eyes at her. “You’re a con artist. One carton, and I’ll come to your game tomorrow night.”
Her eyes light up. “Really?”
I nod. “Yes.”
“Deal.”
We do our little, semi-complicated handshake that we’ve perfected throughout the years.
Me: I happen to have a very cute nine-year-old softball stud helping me win at poker right now. Am I correct to assume it’s Harper’s game?
Wifey: Yes. Coolest. Kid. Ever.
Me: True. I was thinking of coming to that game too.
Okay, I thought of it ten seconds ago when I found out Kennedy was going.
Wifey: See you there. That can count as one of our forced dates.
Ouch.
Me: What are you up to tonight?
