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Voices echo from my past, telling me that I’ll die alone or end up in jail because I don’t know how to care about anybody except for myself. Perhaps that’s true. But who else was going to watch out for me? I survived by the skin of my teeth. There is safety in watching out for numero uno. Though sometimes, once in a blue moon, I meet someone without anybody in their corner and it tugs at my nonexistent heartstrings. Like Debra.

We go a few more rounds in silence.

“What kind of scar?”

I hook my foot around the leg of the table, leveraging the resistance to keep my knee from bouncing. “Old, healed wrong.” Not an accident. “You know me, I enjoy a challenging canvas.”

Logan flips a card. “What’s the piece going to be?”

“Moth.”

“Good coverage, lots of markings.” He nods, apparently approving of my choice. “Have you completed the design?”

“Yeah, I finished it a couple weeks ago.”

They both stare at me.

“Problem?”

Thor cuts his gaze to Logan before directing it back at me. “Since when do you draw commissions that far in advance?”

I shrug. “It’s a big piece. Like I said, it’s a challenge. It’s not like I’m just going over some fucking surgical scar. It took me longer.”

They seem satisfied with that answer, at least enough to stop bringing it up. After we’ve blown through our hands, we count our cards. Logan ends up with the most.

Thor smiles. “Pay up.”

Logan furrows his brow. “You didn’t win, asshole. I did.”

“I didn’t bet to win, I bet that Casper wouldn’t. You were too busy talking to bet anything. You both owe me two hundred bucks.”

I stare blankly at my four remaining cards. “You play like a convict.”

“Ex-convict,” he corrects, unwrapping his own burger.

“What happened to caring about favors over cash?” Logan asks, raising a brow.

“Inflation. Besides, you already owe me a favor from that shit with Kelly. I’m diversifying.”

“Uh-huh.” Logan shrugs. “You’re more likely to burn it for warmth than actually exchange it for goods.”

I hold up a finger. “Hey, Farmer’s Almanac says this winter is going to be a real bitch.”

“I exchange it for services.” Thor winks.

“Enjoy your lay,” Logan adds, tossing him his chips. “I’ll hit the ATM tomorrow.”

“I’ll tell her you say hi.”

“This is nice.” I fold my hands behind my head, beaming as I delight in their bickering, two hundred dollars poorer. My phone buzzes and I glance down at the screen. I push the cards over to Logan to shuffle.

Anna

Hi, this is Anna Kucera.

Oh, hello.

Not ringing a bell.