by Dana Cameron
“You’re an archaeologist; of course you live in the past.”
“Not me. It’s over, I don’t worry about it now.”
Carla snorted with disgust.
I got the bidding started and watched Jay get more and more excited. His bet—and potential raise—would tell me whether I could get away with what I planned. I mentally crossed my fingers.
Carla said, “So did everyone see Emma’s new car? Quite the sporty little number. Jetta.”
“How do you like it, Em?” Chris asked.
“I like it a lot, so far. Peppy,” I said, feigning concentration.
“Yeah, and it’s just the car for her too,” Carla said. “Heaps plenty of abuse on her, just the way Emma likes it. Little Miss Control Freak.”
“Oh?” I said. This was a well-worn path we were traveling.
“Yeah. You’re so uptight that when the ABS light comes on, you think it’s time to go to the gym and work on your gut.”
“Very funny, Carla,” I said, feeling unreasonably nettled.
Lissa was caught drinking, and ended up gargling some of her beer, not quite a nostril purge. “Yeah, and when she sees the airbag logo, she thinks the car is telling her she’s talking too much!” She almost choked again, laughing at her own joke.
“You’re all a riot,” I said, shuffling my cards around one more time. I couldn’t understand why these retread jokes, as much a tradition as the game itself, should bother me so. “Don’t we ever talk about archaeology anymore?”
“Jeez, Em, all we do here is talk about archaeology. This is for fun, this is us hanging out. Talking about your uptightitude, Jay’s familiarity with every croupier in every casino on the planet, Lissa’s sex life—”
“Well, if we’re not talking shop, let’s go back to discussing Lissa’s sex life. And leave me and my foibles out of it.”
“Fine with me,” she said, wiping the last of the beer off her chin. “Did I tell you—?”
We heard a strangled noise come from across the table. “Emma! Play the frigging game!”
We all turned to Jay, who had turned bright red. His heel was no longer wagging, but he was spastically tapping his cards on the table. His OvenStuffer timer had popped and he was done to a turn, I thought, as I admired my handiwork. If he’d been a turkey instead of a pigeon, that is.
“Gotta pay to find out, I guess, huh, Jay? So what are you so excited about?”
Jay shrugged. “You’ll see.”
I threw in a couple more bills to call, then dramatically raised Jay’s raise. Everyone looked at me in surprise. “I don’t know,” I said, “I guess I’ve had too much beer.”
“Ha!” Lissa announced. “That’ll be the day. Too rich for me.”
“Me, too,” said Carla, throwing in her cards.
“Horseshit!” Jay frowned. “You’re bluffing.”
I smiled and batted my eyes. “Pay up and find out.”
He saw me and raised again. “Take that.” By the way he was wagging his heel under his chair, he had a whopper of a hand. Moby Dick, Jaws, Behemoth.
“Okay, then you take that.” I saw him. The pot was very plump now, thanks to our table rules on betting.
“You can’t scare me, Fielding.”
“Then let’s see ’em, Whitaker.”
“I’m sorry, Em,” he said, grinning hugely as he put his cards down. “Flush.”
“Wow,” I responded. “Oh, man, Jay, you kill me! How often do you see a hand like that? Just look at that, a flush. Damn.”
“Yankees just can’t play cards,” he said smugly. He reached over to high-five Lissa, who ignored his hand and gave him a stony look.
“Who are you calling a Yankee?” she said caustically. Lissa’s family had got to North Carolina just after Virginia Dare. “Like Maryland is the South, anyway.”
Jay took the rebuff in good stride. “It’s all relative, babe; maybe it’s just chicks who can’t play cards, then. You guys are fun, but I usually hang out with serious players.” He stuck out his tongue at Lissa, who seemed to study it for possibilities, and then he rubbed his hands together and reached over to scoop the kitty toward his pile.
“Hang on there a second, friend.” I put down a queen-high straight flush. “Sorry Jay. Just call me the queen of spades.”
A phone rang, and while everyone else checked their cell phones, I took the opportunity to scoop all the cash over to my side of the table. It was my phone that kept ringing. Even after a couple of years, I’m still surprised when it happens. I left the table, where Jay was still staring at the cards dumbly, jaw dropped to his chest. Carla reached over to feel his pulse and got her hand slapped away for her trouble.
I cleared my throat. “Hey, Brian!”
Everyone around the table dutifully called out “Hello, Brian.” I stuck my finger in my free ear.
“How’d the presentation go?” he said.
“Good. I’m glad it’s done.”
“I just wanted to make sure that you got in from the site before the storm caught you.”
“It’s not here yet, and yes, we’re all fine.”
“I’m about to head to Kam’s. Marty’s off to her parents’ with the baby and I told him I’d keep him company.” Kamil Shah was Brian’s friend and his boss at United Pharmaceuticals, and Marty—Mariam—had been my undergraduate roommate, and a spectacularly perceptive bit of matchmaking on my part had got them married. Their daughter Sophia is my goddaughter, and I feel particularly responsible for her, as she is perfect.
“You be careful out there. And don’t forget to check the furnace, okay?”
“I will. And already done.”
“And did you put down the cat feeder and extra water?”
“Just did that.”
“And did you get a chance to—?”
“Come on, Emma. In the first place, I’m a reasonably intelligent guy and I don’t want to come home to a couple of frozen and starved cats or a burned-out shell of a house any more than you would.”
I looked out the window at the flying snow and wished I was home. “Aren’t you the one who was following me around, asking me if I packed clean socks and my toothbrush and my paper and slides? I know, I know you’ve got a handle on the small things.”
“Exactly. I was just being helpful. And speaking of which, I also had to deal with that sink full of ladylike unmentionables you left for me.”
“What ladylike unmentionables?” I could practically feel heads swiveling behind me. “What are you talking about?”
“You know. Your moon pies, your jockstrap.”
“It’s not a jockstrap,” I said. “It’s a female groin protector. There’s a big difference. And you should just call them breast shields. Sorry about that—and thanks. I meant to get to it, but I just didn’t get a chance.” By the curious glances of my colleagues, it was more than time to change subjects. “What are you two up to while Marty’s in New York?”
“Movies. Lots of explosions, gunplay, and semi-naked women. Meat, cheese, beer. We’ve been planning for two weeks now. Kam’s desperate for male company, someone over the age of two. He’s had enough of play dates for Sophia, this one’s for him.”
“Well, you can help there. Okay, have fun. Careful out driving.”
“Yep, you too. Good luck with your paper. And did you have a chance to take care of you-know-who yet?”
I turned away from the table. “Yep. Just did.”
“Good. Wouldn’t want to ruin a tradition.”
We said our I-love-yous and goodbyes and I returned to the table.
“Trouble in paradise?” said Brad.
I looked at him, surprised. “No. Why?”
“Little spat over domestic duties.” He smirked.
I shrugged, annoyed with him. “Please. That was a discussion. Brian and I are both lead dog–types, and sometimes, without anyone else around, we start both trying to lead at the same time. We know what’s up.”
“I’m surprised with your enlightened v
iew of the world, you’d be so unsympathetic,” Carla said to Brad.
“Not at all,” he replied. “It’s just that we schedule everything out so there is no distraction from what’s important in life.”
“Well, if you all aren’t going to ask her, I am,” Lissa said to the table at large. “What the heck are you doing, wearing a jockstrap?”
“Like I said, it’s a female groin protector.”
“Groin protection. Breast shields.” Lissa chewed that over. “What are you and Brian up to? I’ll give you credit, you’re into some advanced stuff. Most of us just muddle along with nubbly condoms and vibrators.”
“Ha. Ha.” I looked over my cards. “It’s for my Krav Maga, to keep from getting kicked or punched somewhere fragile.”
“Krav Maga like Kama Sutra?”
“Do you always have to take the low road, Liss?” Carla asked. “It’s E’s fancy self-defense class, Israeli martial arts.”
Brad shuddered. “You’re going to ruin your joints with all that violent stuff. You should try yoga. More yin, less yang.”
“Right.” I made a face. “In my abundant spare time.”
Brad was insistent. “It would help with your stress. And by the way, you were late tonight, Emma. It’s not like you to keep us waiting.”
I wasn’t about to tell him what I’d actually been up to; Carla and I had a thing about playing practical jokes on each other. “I ran into a student of mine,” I said as casually as I could; it was true anyway. I just made a detour after that. “She wanted to ask me something before her paper. Besides, Jay was here only a minute before me and Sue’s later than both of us.”
Carla was eyeing me hard, and I worried she smelled a rat. She made a rude noise. “And Jay? Where were you?”
“Oh, I was talking with our illustrious guest of honor,” he said, stacking his chips. “Garrison had some questions for me. More like demands.”
“Ha!” Carla snorted. “I hear that.”
Jay continued. “But where’s Sue anyway? She trying to save money by not showing up to let me take it?”
A knock at the door answered her before we could, and I got up to find it was the woman herself. Her eyes were red, her fair skin was blotchy under the freckles, and while nothing could shift her fan of strawberry-blond hair—shellacked into looking permanently windblown—her clothes were rumpled.
“Where’ve you been?” I said. “You ducked out of there pretty quick.” When she didn’t say anything, I tried to joke. “And you missed me trouncing Jay. It was beautiful.”
Jay glared at me. “Evening’s young yet. Not even near over.”
“After I got done in the ladies’ room, I got caught in the bar,” Sue explained. “Took me a while to get free. Lots of sympathy to deal with.”
“I’m sorry.” I handed her a beer. “Everyone knew that Garrison was talking about your project.”
“And he’s two seconds away from permanently retiring!” Her words came in a rush. “It all comes down to a difference of opinion, and he’s got to screw five years worth of work. Bastard.”
“You had to know it was coming,” Chris said.
“Yeah, well, as far as I knew, it was a go until he got tapped for the advisory board. They all suck up to him. Then…phhht.”
The news I’d heard about the project didn’t give me exactly the same vibe, and I thought that Sue was working toward an extreme long shot, but I wouldn’t have said so for the world.
She sat down, put her head down between her knees.
“You okay, hon?” Lissa asked, patting her on the back.
“Yeah,” came the muffled reply. A long shuddering sigh followed. “Just give me a minute, okay?”
We exchanged looks; there was nothing more we could do. I opened my mouth to say we didn’t need to play cards tonight, this was too important, but with a determined shake, Sue sat up and immediately changed the subject.
“Gimme some damned cards. Did you know this place is haunted?”
“Get out of here,” Chris said, dealing.
“Yes,” said the rest of us. We all looked at him. He stopped dealing.
“Well, clearly I didn’t get the chance to study up on the hotel, like the rest of you. I didn’t schedule, clearly, Brad, and I spend my free time enjoying my family life. Besides, it’s in New Hampshire and it’s after eighteen fifty, so why should I care?” Chris had his own priorities, running a small historical district visitors center in western Massachusetts. He resumed dealing the cards.
“Anyway,” Sue said, after a moment, “it’s this whole thing about a bride on her wedding night. Found out her groom was unfaithful, beat him to death with a poker.”
“Cool,” Carla said.
“So let me guess, he wanders the halls trying to make it up to her?” Jay asked. He was chewing on his bottom lip this time, and I figured once he straightened up that his hand wasn’t all that great.
“No, she wanders the halls with the fireplace poker, looking for him in case he comes back. I guess she died a month later. She had the room so she stayed there. Died of a broken heart.”
“So why wasn’t she hauled off to prison?”
“I think it was rumored that she killed him; the plaque says that he probably fell down the stairs and broke his neck.”
“See, ghost stories never make any sense,” Scott said. “Waste of time.”
“I think they’re great,” Lissa said. “Really fascinating.”
“You would. All spooky and romantic and all that horseshit.” He threw his cards down in disgust. “I’m out.”
“No, it’s because these stories tell you what people wanted to believe,” she replied hotly. “Give me another card.”
Betting followed; Lissa, Carla, Scott, and I were out and it was left to Brad, Jay, and Sue. The stakes got pretty high, well, high for us, and there might have been forty dollars in the pot at point.
The remaining players sized each other up. Brad glared at the other two, breathing in through his nose and out through his mouth like he was invoking his yogic calm and it wasn’t coming. Jay and Sue stared at each other, small smiles playing around their lips. Finally, in the last round, Jay and Brad folded, and Sue scooped the pot over to her pile.
“Come to mama. Well, at least one good thing came out of this evil night.”
Brad was picking up the cards that Sue had discarded. “Hey! You were bluffing. You had two threes, that’s all!”
“You jackass, since when do you get to look after the fact?” Carla slapped at Brad, but he’d already backed out of range.
“Look, she was bluffing,” he said, showing the cards to Jay, who scowled.
“You have to pay to find out, Brad. That’s the rules. No snooping around after the fact,” Sue said.
“Don’t be such a pussy,” Jay said. “Suck it up, man.”
“But she was bluffing! And you bought it too!”
“Yeah, man, you always bet too much at the wrong times,” Chris said to Jay.
He shrugged. “You gotta have faith in the cards.”
“No, I have faith in beer. I always know exactly what beer will do for me in any given situation,” Chris said. “Cards are too unpredictable, or have you forgotten the strip poker game that gave you your nickname, Jay-Bird?”
“As in nekkid-as-a?” Carla said. “Huh. I always thought it was because he was noisy and pooped all over the place.”
“Well, that too,” Chris assured her. “This particular event was sometime during that extended holiday Jay took after high school. Undergrad shouldn’t take six years, dude.”
Jay shrugged. “You go with your strengths, Chris. I was good at spring break.”
“Speaking of strengths,” I said, “if you can’t tell when Sue’s bluffing, then you shouldn’t be betting, Brad.”
Brad made a face. “But I had a good hand!”
“So you should have stuck with it.”
“Whatever.”
The game shut down soon after that an
d Brad, perhaps still miffed by his loss, bullied me into meeting him in the gym the next morning.
“But my session’s first thing,” Carla complained. “Aren’t you guys coming?”
We seldom made it to each other’s panels.
“I don’t want to get up that early,” I said to both of them. “Why do you want to work out anyway?”
“Didn’t you bring your stuff?”
“Yes, but I didn’t expect—”
“Meet me down there at seven, no better make it six-thirty. We can catch up.” Brad raised his eyebrows in what I suppose was meant to be a meaningful fashion, and I reluctantly agreed. He usually didn’t bother with subterfuge, and I was curious.
“Fine, but you’re going to get what you deserve,” I muttered, throwing my cards away. My luck had run out for the night. “And since I’ll be getting up at the crack of dawn, Carla, I’ll be sure to catch your paper.”
Scott said he had to wash out his underwear or go commando the rest of the weekend. Brad, of course, had his schedule to keep and wanted to make sure he got enough sleep to counteract his present sleep deficit. Jay was going to another room to catch the basketball game, on which he claimed to have a sure bet. Lissa announced she was going back downstairs, and hit the bar. I had figured to go back to my room, but said I’d go with her, because Sue was going too and looked like she could use some friendly faces at the moment.
Carla yawned, fit to swallow a pig. “Well, I’m going to sleep, if my room’s warmed up any. It was as cold as hell when I left for the plenary, and they said they were going to work on it.”
“Funny,” I said. “Mine was as hot as hell. Must be Château Dante we’re staying in here.”
We walked down to the bar, and it was packed: The conference bar is like the watering hole on the veldt, with everyone stalking everyone else. I noticed Duncan over in one corner, holding court with the same effortless magnetism I remembered from years ago. He caught my eye, but didn’t do anything else, so I just followed Lissa and Sue to where they were going and hoped that the service would be a little better than it was this evening after the plenary. Sure enough, there were three waitresses pushing their way through the crowd. I hoped they were getting well tipped; the bar was nearly as hot as my room was.