“No, you didn’t.”
Marcus tapped the table once, like that settled it. By the fifth book, it was already leaning the wrong way. Big Ray took the next one without comment, slid the stack toward himself.
“That’s three.”
Marcus sat forward now, cards tighter in his hand.
“You still got two more?” Kyle asked.
Marcus didn’t answer. We didn’t give them to him.
Big Ray dropped the last book on the stack, squared it with the others. “Set.”
Kyle leaned back, satisfied but not loud about it. “Told you,” he said, reaching for the scorepad.
Marcus exhaled through his nose, looking at the table like the cards had personally disappointed him.
“The method needs time,” he said.
“The method needs honesty,” Kyle replied, writing the score.
Marcus shook his head, already reaching for the deck. “Run it again.”
Big Ray gathered the cards, shuffled, started dealing. Leon came through the screen door with a platter of wings, the smell hitting first, hot and seasoned. He set it down between us, handing out plates without asking who wanted one.
“What happened?” he asked.
Marcus didn’t look up. “Experimental round.”
Leon glanced at the books stacked on Big Ray’s side. “Four?”
Kyle didn’t miss a beat. “He thought he did.”
Leon nodded once like that told him everything he needed to know.
Darius laughed, already halfway through his plate. “Eagles been doing that all season,” he said. “Calling games like they got something they don’t.”
“That’s coaching,” Kyle said.
“That’s ownership,” Darius shot back. “Let’s be clear.”
We played a couple more hands. Marcus hit one clean, leaned back like he had proven something, and Kyle shook his head like he hadn’t.
Leon brought out more food. Somebody turned the music up just enough to notice it. The light shifted across the porch, the air cooling enough that Darius pulled his sleeves down without saying anything about it.
“You cooking this week or you showing up empty-handed?” Darius asked Marcus.
“I show up where I’m invited,” Marcus said.
“That’s not cooking.”
“Not my concern, nor my problem.”
“Go ahead,” Kyle said, glancing at Marcus. “What’s the adjustment now?”
Marcus smirked, picking up his hand. “Adjustment is I’m about to win this one.”
“That’s not an adjustment.”
