Luck, Love & Lemon Pie

by Amy E. Reichert

  “Your mentee?”

  “You didn’t think I’d let you play without a coach, did you?”

  MJ was surprised at this change in Doyle’s approach to her. Gone were the over-the-top flirtations and borderline inappropriate comments. Instead, a soft-spoken respect blossomed in his eyes.

  “Thank you. It’s beautiful. And very thoughtful.” With him so close, she wanted to give him a quick hug or kiss on the cheek, but there were witnesses. People stood only a few feet away, snapping pictures of Doyle and her. Instead, she clutched the beautiful card protector to her chest.

  “Doesn’t that get annoying?” MJ used her eyes to gesture toward the nearby fans.

  “You get used to it. I don’t even notice it much anymore. Though sometimes it makes it difficult to get anywhere on time.”

  MJ looked around the poker room. The back four tables had been cordoned off. Currently people lined the velvet rope separating the participants from the audience. Though Doyle wasn’t playing, no one was about to tell the reigning champion he couldn’t stand on the player side. This was the event her trip to Vegas was molded around. If she won this small, forty-person tournament, she would get entered in the Global Poker Finals. The entry alone was worth twenty thousand dollars! The GPF was the big poker event—the World Cup of the poker world. MJ tried not to focus on this, that tonight was like baseball’s wild-card play-off game. Each seat had chips stacked and ready for the tournament to begin, ten spots at four tables. The other tournament players hovered around the edges, sending quick glances in her direction, waiting, like she was, to be told where to sit. She took a deep breath and ran her fingers over the pineapple’s leaves, the hard enamel smooth and flawless. Doyle bumped her shoulder.

  “I’m glad you like it.”

  “It’s the perfect surprise—especially since this won’t kill me.” She bumped his shoulder back.

  “Perhaps you’d like to reward me properly later.” He tapped his thumb against his lips.

  So maybe the flirtation wasn’t retired completely.

  “If my thanks isn’t enough, then I’ll have to return it.” MJ sighed dramatically. “Which is too bad, because I really do love it, and every time I use it, it will make me think of you.”

  She turned her attention back to the fidgeting players, starting to compile a list of their quirks. For the best players, the game had already begun. Sweat trickled down the back of her knees, a sure sign her nerves had entered Code Red. The crowd noise quieted as the announcer started pulling names and seat assignments from a bag, interrupting her assessments. When MJ’s name was called, she gave Doyle’s arm a quick squeeze.

  “Any last words, Coach?”

  “Patience. You’re an unknown and they’re going to wonder about your connection to me. Use that,” he said. “And don’t hesitate to come talk to me between hands, even if it’s just for a stretch. That’s what I’m here for. Good luck, MJ.”

  She nodded and took her seat. Within minutes, it was shuffle up and deal. The dealer sent the cards around and MJ set her new trinket on her hand with pleasure, enjoying the weight of it and the ridiculous memory. The nerves she fought to control a few minutes ago faded away. After months of using the poker table as an escape, the snapping of cards and clinking of chips relaxed her. She assumed her position of stillness, clasping her hands in front of her even when she wasn’t in the hand, using the pineapple as a focal point.

  She folded her first hand and gave Doyle a quick look over her shoulder. He smiled, but looked more nervous than she felt. In his right hand, he flipped and popped a poker chip, never bothering to look at it but catching it each time. A stunning brunette wearing a body-skimming black sequined dress and five-inch heels approached him from the other side of the rope. MJ couldn’t hear, but Doyle said a few words, then moved to stand along the wall between the poker room and TFL, where a few of the VIPs were peeking out the glass. She gave Jerry’s laughing eyes a little wave.

  She studied the players at her table, making assessments she knew she’d adjust as the game went on. She’d learned a few things about poker in the last few months that the Gents couldn’t have known in their friendly game. Poker was lonely. Sure, players often chattered, but in games at casinos or especially at a tournament, any conversation was just as calculated as the calls and raises. Every twitch, every bet, every fold was a clue into a player’s mind. A few of her tablemates started out aggressive, going in big and scaring off the others. MJ kept folding, playing the part of “insecure woman.” In these early rounds, she only forfeited a small amount of money when she was in the big- or small-blind position. She could see Doyle pacing, annoyed with her play. Lisa had appeared next to him and flashed her a small wave when she noticed MJ looking in their direction. One player curled his lip as he watched her fold the latest hand—she dubbed him Sneer. Let them make their assumptions.

  A few hands later, the small blind was to MJ. She had a nine and a ten of hearts. Not an awful hand, but not great for what she was planning: to go in big and catch the table off guard. Only two other players had called the blinds: Sneer and another man she named Nose, for obvious reasons, were hoping for a cheap look at the flop. That wasn’t going to work this time.

  “I raise.” MJ quadrupled the big blind. The player to her left folded, leaving it up to Sneer and Nose to call, fold, or raise. Sneer folded. He obviously didn’t have a good hand. Nose stared at her. MJ sat with her hands folded around her pineapple, her thumb grazing over her tattoo. She saw Doyle freeze and his head turn quickly to the last remaining player. What had he noticed? She stopped moving altogether, focusing on her breath. In. Out. In. Out. All her play for the rest of the night would be based on how she behaved right now. In. Out. In. Out.

  The lights above the table reflected in the green enamel leaves of the pineapple. She could count the lightbulbs. There were four. Nose’s stare burned the side of her face; the blood in her neck throbbed. She counted to ten in between blinks. She recited the lyrics to “Walk Like an Egyptian.” At last, the player tossed his cards onto the table faceup. He had folded two queens.

  “Could you beat that?” he said.

  MJ ignored him. She didn’t have to show him. He had folded to her, so she won regardless. She slid her cards to the dealer and scooped in her chips. It wasn’t a huge win chip-wise, but the players at the table thought they knew something about her. Now the fun could begin.

  She rolled her new trinket between her hands, the cold stones pressing against her palms. Such a sweet gesture—Doyle had gone out of his way simply to make her day a little better.

  The last time Chris gave her a surprise was on their anniversary, and it was to apologize for ditching her. If he’d been concerned about making her day better, he would have been on time. She knew her husband didn’t care she had left, or that Doyle behaved as if he had an intimate agenda. She knew her husband was keeping secrets from her.

  She knew Doyle made her feel special the way her husband used to.

  She knew she missed that feeling.

  The day after tomorrow, she’d leave to go back home. Doyle stood opposite her, his arms crossed over his chest, his right thumb resting on his lips. Their eyes met and he winked. MJ recalled seeing him for the first time on TV after he won the GPF. That night, she had been full of hope that her marriage was on the mend, and now she questioned whether she wanted to fight for a man who so clearly didn’t appreciate or even want her.

  People call New York the city that never sleeps, but that title should really belong to Las Vegas. Where else could you buy Chanel at three in the morning? MJ and Lisa stopped in front of the Chanel jewelry store in Bonn Oir’s mall. She hadn’t won the tournament, but she wasn’t upset—the allure of poker was waning for her. Plus, she’d won a few grand, and she wanted to do something frivolous with it. Drawn by the sparkling displays, MJ pulled Lisa across the threshold into a whole new world. She wanted a memento of her victory here—something just for her, something sparkly.

&nb
sp; A young woman, way too perky for the time of night, walked up to MJ and Lisa. Her black suit looked tailored to her trim figure, with simple, elegant jewelry adding a subtle touch. A more-than-ample hint of cleavage spilled out from the fitted shirt under her jacket, so clearly she wasn’t stupid.

  “Can I help you find something?”

  “We’re just looking for fun,” Lisa said. “Celebrating.”

  “Would you like to try on some things?”

  “Really, we’re just looking,” MJ said. “We don’t want to waste your time.”

  “Speak for yourself,” Lisa said under her breath.

  The saleswoman smiled and motioned around the store. “There’s no one else here. Please, let’s play dress-up with extravagantly priced jewelry. I can only polish the cases so many times before the fumes start to mess with my brain.”

  MJ looked around her. They were the only ones in the store, aside from the security guard stationed at the entrance. She looked at Lisa, who looked more awake than she had during the hours-long tournament.

  “I’m not going to say no to that. Where do we start?”

  “Well, if you were going to buy something, what would it be?”

  MJ twirled the teal octopus ring she wore for good luck. It covered three fingers and had cost twenty dollars at a street fair.

  “Rings. Big ones. And sparkly.”

  The saleswoman grinned and held out her hand.

  “I like your style. My name is Clare.”

  She pointed to herself and Lisa, who had already wandered to the earrings. “MJ and Lisa.”

  “I’ll be over here falling in love,” Lisa called.

  “The best rings are over here.” Clare stepped behind the counter and pointed to where MJ should meet her. She unlocked the case and pulled out a black velvet tray full of gorgeous.

  “Wow,” said MJ. “I’m getting shivers just looking. You’re really going to let me try them on?”

  “That’s what I do. Here, put this one on—it’s our most expensive one in this case.”

  The ring dwarfed her octopus. A lion’s head made entirely of diamonds threatened to blind her. She slid it onto her finger, weighing it down.

  “How much?”

  “This one is about two hundred thousand dollars, but we do have a safe in the back where there are a few rings in the seven figures.”

  Her eyes nearly doubled in size and she pulled the ring off.

  “It makes me nervous just to wear it. Can I try that one next?”

  MJ pointed to a flower-shaped ring, Chanel’s latest incarnation of the classic camellia. White gold and tiny diamonds formed three tiers of petals, with a gigantic diamond at the center. Off to one side, a leaf added asymmetry to the otherwise balanced flower. If MJ could have any ring in the entire store, this would be it. She slid the bauble onto her right ring finger, tilting it to catch the light from above. Little rainbows jumped off the facets.

  “So pretty,” MJ mumbled. “How much?”

  “Fifteen grand.”

  MJ winced.

  “But you get the cute Chanel shopping bag to go with it,” Clare added.

  With a smile, MJ wiggled her fingers, making the sparkles dance.

  “You’ve given me something to dream about, Clare.”

  “Don’t tell me you’re planning to buy your own diamonds,” a deep, kind voice said from behind her.

  “Jerry!” MJ said, delighted to see him one more time. Lisa’s and her flight left in twenty-six hours, so she had no plans to return to the poker room. “It’s good to see you.”

  Clare took this as a cue to pull out the earrings before Lisa decided to climb into the case and get them herself.

  “You played really well tonight. I see Mr. Kane’s quite taken with you.”

  MJ rolled her eyes.

  “He’s quite taken with anything in a skirt.” MJ waved to the store. “Are you shopping?”

  Jerry’s smile dimmed a bit.

  “Not today. I like to come in and look. It reminds me of my wife.”

  MJ wanted to know more but didn’t want to prod into anything too personal. Her patience paid off.

  His voice more gritty than before, Jerry continued, “Sylvia passed a little over a year ago. I used to buy her baubles, usually when I did something stupid. Sometimes just to see her dimples when I handed her the box.”

  Jerry’s eyes shone as he picked up MJ’s right hand and tapped the camellia ring.

  “These were her favorite.”

  MJ squeezed his hand.

  “She obviously had excellent taste, in jewelry and men.” He clearly still loved her deeply. “How long were you married?”

  Jerry’s eyes grew distant. “Forty-seven beautiful, challenging, and perfect years.”

  “Challenging and perfect?”

  He smiled the smile of someone who knew, who had been there, who had seen it and planned to share.

  “There were times we couldn’t stand each other. Once we spent six months not speaking—no baubles could help that time. A day didn’t go by that I didn’t think of cutting my losses and moving on. I found out later she felt the same way.”

  “What happened?”

  Jerry tapped his chin with a thick, well-groomed finger.

  “It was never just one thing. I didn’t replace the toilet paper, she didn’t cook my steak right, I snored, she talked during football games. A million stupid things that added up to silence.”

  “How did you stay together? It sounds like you were both miserable.”

  “That’s the secret, isn’t it? When the love is real, even when you can’t find it under mountains of hurt feelings and shuttered emotions, it’s not really gone. All it takes is finding one new reason to fall in love. Just one, and all the other reasons become clear again.”

  “What was the reason that time?” MJ asked.

  “I came home early from work.” Jerry told the tale without a pause, as if it were a memory he visited often. The story unfolded evenly and slowly in his deep, rumbling voice, giving MJ time to absorb every word. “I remember pulling into the garage, irritated I would need to mow the lawn. I sat in my car with the windows open and could smell the tuna noodle casserole she had made for dinner. And I hated tuna noodle casserole. I put the car in reverse, to hit the club for scotch and cigars with the boys, when I heard the most beautiful voice coming from the backyard. I got out of the car, not even shutting the door, and snuck around the house.

  “Sylvia had her back to me, hanging sheets on the clothesline. The sheets snapped in the breeze. I could smell the bleach she used to keep them white. Her hair was piled on top of her head with an apron tied around the faded blue dress she always wore to clean. I hated that ratty old dress, but on that day it was the most beautiful thing she owned. Everything about her was more beautiful than ever before. I had never heard her sing, which was why I hadn’t recognized that it was her right away.

  “At the time, we’d been married for ten years, we had two energetic boys, and I didn’t even know she could sing. In that instant, I fell in love with her all over again.”

  “What did you do next?” MJ had to know how it ended.

  “I helped her finish hanging the laundry, of course. She sang to me every day after that.”

  MJ swiped at the corners of her eyes.

  “Thank you for sharing that with me.”

  “Thank you for giving me a reason to.” Jerry yawned. “I guess it’s time for the old man to get to bed. It was lovely seeing you again, Miss MJ. Good luck to you.” He nodded and left the store, grazing his hand over the Chanel logo near the entrance, clearly wanting to be alone with his memories.

  MJ wanted to find hope for her and Chris in Jerry’s story—that she’d return home and they would both swoon all over again. In another thirty years, she wanted to share her story about that time her marriage almost ended with some forlorn fool, but she couldn’t envision finding some new talent or personality quirk to fall in love with. What could possibly be
left to discover after twenty years together?

  Chapter Twenty-One

  MJ walked. The sun was still low in the early-morning sky, but she couldn’t sleep, so she had left Lisa to have the king bed to herself while she burned off her demons. At barely seven o’clock, the sidewalks were mostly empty. The handful of people out were either employees going to and from work or reluctant vacationers who had to get a run in before a day of gluttony. The eight lanes of road were mostly empty, too. She stopped in front of the Mirage, where a man-made lagoon featured lush palms and a large stone outcropping. During the day, water tumbled over the rocks in playful waterfalls as birds cawed in the background, but at night it would transform into a showy volcano. The rising sun had still not moved high enough to be seen above the rock waterfall. Watching those early rays, she tried to divine what her husband was doing over the many miles. Back home it would be shortly after nine. It was Saturday, so Tommy would be tossing a ball against the roof and catching it when it rolled off, and Kate would be curled up with a book or texting with her friends. MJ would normally be at home folding laundry or loading up on groceries. She missed their faces, their awkward teen bodies, all elbows and knees. Had Kate gotten any acceptance letters while she was in Vegas? Had Tommy eaten all the pizza rolls and Pop-Tarts?

  She pulled out her phone and fired off some texts to Tommy and Kate, eager for their responses.

  Now what about Chris? Everything was so familiar. She pictured his ruffled brown hair and clear blue eyes. The way he used to kiss her like she was the only thing in the world and he would die if she didn’t kiss him back. He hadn’t kissed her like that in months, maybe even years. Did he kiss Tammie like that? Did it matter? More than anything, she wanted to feel that yearning for him again. Doyle’s attentions reminded her of the first thrills of young love, the anticipation when you didn’t know your lover’s every move before they did it. He surprised her constantly. It was exciting. So why did her mind keep returning to a face that hadn’t surprised her in years?