He nods.
"Yeah. It’s a rough crowd tonight. If you need help, just, y’know, nudge me or whatever. I’ll watch your back."
It catches me off guard.
I kinda love how much they’re underestimating me.
Will I get punched if they go all-in and I wipe the table with them? Probably.
Will I do it anyway? Absolutely.
I smile. "Thanks," I say. "I’m good."
I’m more than good. Inside, I’m calm. Because while everyone here is high or loud or posturing… I can read them. And they have no idea what I can do with a quiet hand.
I look across the table, where Gio is, flicking a chip between his fingers. He catches my eye. Smiles. Then winks.
My stomach does something stupid.
I sit down, waiting for the rest of the players to get ready. Some guy across from me points at me with his chin.
"You. Shuffle."
"But I’m not the dealer."
"Shuffle."
Well, if you insist. Not to brag, but I’ve been waiting for this exact moment. I like poker. I like cards. I don’t like gambling. I don’t like gambling at all.
I roasted people for it back in Canada… but poker? Poker is different.
It’s a thinking game. A mind game. It’s like… a quiet art. Especially that first year in Canada… I had to join many poker games just to meet people, figure out who I like, who to avoid.
Somewhere in between pretending I belonged, I realized I actually enjoyed it.
And Noah taught me all the tricks.
Card manipulation, flourishes, riffling methods, the pretty stuff. So I take the deck, and I break it in half. Slide one stack into the other, card by card. My fingers move automatically.
I can fold, fan, weave, flip. God bless Noah. I can feel eyes on me.
Well… one pair in particular. I look up.
Gio is staring with his mouth slightly open. "Do it again," he says.
I laugh. "…Is this what we’re doing here?"
"Yes. Do it again."
God, he’s five years old. I sigh and shuffle again, slower this time, letting the cards arc between my fingers. He watches every movement, carefully.
"Again," he says.
"Say please," I shoot back.
He ignores that completely. "Give me the damn cards."
I hand them over, already knowing where this is going. He tries to replicate what I do.
