Texas Hold 'Em

by George R. R. Martin

  “But I can’t see from there. This has a much better view.”

  A barrage of catcalls was suddenly aimed their way, led by Betty Virginia.

  “There’s one of those joker freaks!” “Hey, butterfly girl, look over here!” “Bubbles! Bubbles! Can you give me an autograph?” “You’re a heifer, Bubbles. No wonder you can only screw other women.”

  “Adesina! Seriously!” Michelle exclaimed. Then she glared at the hecklers. If you’re going to try and insult me, at least make it something new. And lay off my daughter. “You come down this instant.”

  “Mom!”

  A cry went up from God’s Weenies’ side of the street and they strained against the stretchy orange barricade webbing.

  One of the officers held up a bullhorn and said, “Step away from the barricade!”

  God’s Weenies started chanting: “God hates jokers! God hates jokers! Keep us pure!”

  The joker protesters began a chant of their own: “God loves everyone! Down with hate! Down with hate!”

  The barricade webbing on all four corners was stretching now. Michelle was shoved against it. The cop with the bullhorn said, “Settle down! Y’all just settle down. Right. Now.”

  “Adesina, dammit, go back inside!” Michelle tried jumping up to grab her ankle, but Adesina just fluttered up a little higher. “The police have this handled. Stop making me repeat myself.”

  “Mom, we can get to the Tobin Center if we can just get those people to move.” She pointed at the looky-loos to the north.

  The barrels keeping the barricade webbing in place on the joker side of the street gave a loud thunk as they tipped over. For a moment, the jokers looked surprised, as if they weren’t expecting to be sprung. Then a couple of jokers—one whose misshapen crimson body was covered in black eyes; the other who had a praying mantis body topped by a tiny woman’s head—glanced at each other and, with a yell, dashed across the intersection toward God’s Weenies. Another joker—whose head looked like a 1950s Jell-O mold with his features and brain floating inside—followed them.

  God’s Weenies shrieked. In fear or anger, Michelle couldn’t tell.

  Dammit, Michelle thought. I’m going to have to do something. And I’m going to catch hell for it no matter how things turn out. So, fun.

  A giant bubble flew across the street and stopped abruptly in front of the jokers. The Jell-O joker stopped, his eyes widened, and then his gelatinous face collapsed onto his navy-blue suit, sliding down his chest and belly as if his head were melting. His brain ended up on his shoulders, and his eyes, ears, and mouth were now residing on his torso. Apparently, this was some kind of survival reflex.

  Ew, Michelle thought.

  She let the bubble break into twenty smaller bubbles. The wall of them shimmered iridescent in the sunlight. Then she turned them rubbery and dropped them. They began to bounce around and off Jell-O joker and the rest of the joker protesters.

  “Ah, c’mon,” said the Oz tree joker as he swatted a bubble away. It came back to pester him like a mosquito. “That’s just not fair!”

  Michelle ignored him.

  Now she had to turn her attention to God’s Weenies, who were planted on the opposite side of the street. And after sorting them out, she was going to deal with the media. And then there were the idiots on the sidelines who thought they should be involved in this situation by watching the scene unfold, all the while filming everything on their phones. This was not how she’d planned her afternoon.

  “It’s incredible how many morons can be in one place at the same time,” she said. There was a lifetime of annoyance in her voice. Five baseball-sized bubbles rose from her hands.

  “You guys do remember me, right? Or did you become really confused over the last four days and decide I wasn’t the Amazing Bubbles anymore? Seriously, I’m kinda hurt, here. As my daughter would say, ‘I’m totes sad-like.’” Now the bubbles were careening around the intersection. It was the best human pinball machine ever.

  “There’s a frosty margarita and some spicy Tex-Mex in my future,” she continued. Now people on each side of the intersection were smacking bubbles away. “Also, you’re keeping all the kids inside the Gunter from their final performance and I’ll be damned if you’re going to stop me from hearing my daughter’s recital. You’re all that’s between me and a fine time. And that makes me very uncheerful.”

  To her surprise and exasperation, God’s Weenies ignored her and were still pushing against their barricade. Then, suddenly, it came down with a loud bang!

  Great, she thought. My daughter is refusing to stop flying around. There’s a ridiculous protest conflict going on. I’m trying not to end this little get-together in a bubbly explosion because, apparently, that’s not a happening thing right now. Of course, because that’s the way things are going today, the sun will go supernova. How on earth did a simple band trip turn into this?

  “Mom!”

  Michelle looked up. Her daughter had a stricken look on her face. “Mom! Seriously, you’re embarrassing me here.”

  Michelle’s bubbles quivered for a moment, as if they were about to pop. “Are you kidding me?! I’m embarrassing you? Are you paying attention to what’s happening here?”

  Adesina rolled her eyes. “God, Mom, of course, but you don’t have to make such a big deal about it. You know things kind of … escalate when you’re around.”

  Out of the corner of her eye, Michelle could see the jokers and God’s Weenies were in a standoff, but most of the intersection was clear now. More bubbles flew off her hands to join the ones she’d already made. Both groups turned and glared at her. She wished she had more fat.

  “You’re being adorable,” Michelle said to both groups. A headache was starting behind her right eye. She hadn’t had headaches until Adesina turned into a teenager. “But I’m bored with this nonsense now. I’ve decided we’re playing a variation of Mother May I? And I haven’t said you may.” Her bubbles stopped bouncing around and formed a large circle in the middle of the intersection, forcing God’s Weenies and the jokers to back away from each other. “Now everybody freeze,” Michelle said.

  Both groups froze.

  Michelle smiled. This was the most fun she’d had in the last few days. “Now in this variation, I tell you what you’re supposed to do and you ask me if you can do it. And then you better do it. Take a step back,” she said. The Jell-O-faced joker and the many-eyed joker stepped back. Everyone else said, “Mother May I?”

  “You may,” she replied. “You two. You go sit on the curb.”

  “I don’t have to do anything you say,” Jell-O head said sullenly. His lips were near his belly button. Slowly, his head was starting to form again, his features sliding up his chest.

  Michelle planted her hands on her hips. “You seem confused again. My game, my rules. Now the two of you, scoot.”

  They glared at her—it was disconcerting having all those black eyes staring furiously at her—but then they went to the curb and sat down while the joker protesters and God’s Weenies stepped back.

  “Mom!”

  “What?!”

  “You can’t play Mother May I? in the middle of a standoff,” Adesina said. “Mom, you can’t!”

  “Hmmmm,” Michelle replied, trying to keep the glee out of her voice. “I might be mistaken, but I’m pretty sure I can. Check this: Take a jump to the left!”

  A chorus of “Mother May I?” rang out. Michelle nodded and both groups did so.

  “Now take a step to the right!”

  “Mom!”

  Michelle giggled. She couldn’t help it.

  “Mother May I?” came the reply.

  “Put your hands on your hips and bring your knees in tight!”

  “Mom!”

  “Mother May I?” both groups said. One of the twins from God’s Weenies forgot to say, “Mother May I?”

  Michelle shook a finger at him. Her bubbles swung back and forth in time as she wanted them to. “You’re out, Tweedledee. Go sit do
wn.”

  “You disgusting freak lover! You can’t make me.”

  Michelle gave him a long-suffering look. “Oh, kitten,” she said. “Yes. Yes, I can.” One of her bubbles zoomed and stopped, then hung in front of his face. “You have a really simple choice here. Mind Mother, or, well, you get the idea.”

  “Whore.”

  Michelle was having a good time. Beautiful weather, she was getting to bubble—which was always a plus—and she’d managed not to kill anyone. Win-win.

  Tweedledee turned and walked to God’s Weenies’ side of the street, then sat down on the curb. Michelle could hear him muttering about her various Christian shortcomings.

  Good thing I’m Jewish, she thought.

  “Now where was I?”

  “Mrs. Bubbles,” Officer Reyes said, “this is beneath you. And don’t for the love of God have them do the pelvic thrust. That’s something I don’t need in my brain.”

  Michelle sighed. “Fine,” she said sullenly. “Okay, just stay where you are for now.”

  Her fat was waning, which was to be expected given how little she started out with. Meanwhile, the press and most of the looky-loos continued recording everything. Well, she thought. I’m nothing if not good at putting on a show.

  “Hey, Officer Reyes, could you stop calling me Mrs. Bubbles? Ms. Bubbles if you must. Or just Bubbles now that we know each other. I’d even be good with Michelle.”

  He smiled. The impish expression surprised her. There were many things Michelle could see Officer Reyes doing, but grinning mischievously wasn’t one of them.

  “Oh, I know you don’t like being called Mrs. Bubbles,” he replied. His smile grew bigger. “It just bugged you so much when I used the Mrs.”

  “Aren’t you cute?”

  “Michelle!” She turned and saw Creighton pushing his way through the crowd. Or more like staggering his way. Apparently, he was still feeling the effects of the number of martinis he’d consumed that morning. “Hey, Michelle,” he said. It came out as Heh, Meeshill. “You need to get these morons out of the way so the kids can get to the concert.” He pointed at the looky-loos and then swayed a little. But he managed to look pretty dapper all things considered. Probably because he was still in his Nick Charles form.

  “Thanks, Nick,” she replied. “I’m pretty sure I know that already. Hence the bubble action.”

  He blinked his eyes and gave the scene before him a quick once-over. “It does appear as if you have the situation under control.” It dosh appear ash if ew have the sishuashun under control.

  “Mr. Charles, maybe you should go to your room and get some sleep,” Adesina called down, with concern in her voice. She dropped a little lower. “You look pretty drunk.”

  Creighton gave her an indignant stare. “This isn’t drunk, my dear. This is merely a normal day in the life of Nick and Nora Charles.”

  “Mom says you had like four or five of those martinis.”

  “I’m not sure what you’re getting at, my dear, but my only concern is for you.”

  “Thanks, Mr. Charles, but—”

  A shot rang out and Adesina shrieked.

  Grabbing the outside of her right thigh, she gave another yelp of pain, then fell from the sky, landing hard on the pavement. Michelle wanted to scream herself when she saw her daughter put her hand on her thigh. When Adesina looked at the blood on her hand she gave a hysterical laugh.

  “Oh, God!” Michelle ran to her daughter. “Adesina, honey, are you all right?”

  “Jinkies, Mom, I just got shot.” She swayed as she got to her feet, favoring the right leg. Her face turned ashy. “I’ve been totes better. Being shot, I confess, not my favorite thing.”

  “You’re awfully quippy for being shot,” Michelle said as she grabbed her daughter by the waist. She was shaking all over as if she were in the grip of a high fever, which was how she felt. Adesina trembled, too. “Someone get a doctor. Or an ambulance. Jesus, don’t just stand there, you morons—do something!”

  Adesina took her hand away from the wound. Michelle saw a pencil-thick wound seared across the outside of her thigh. It was bleeding a little, but nothing as serious as Michelle thought it would be. It was the most minor in nature she’d seen. A couple of inches to the side and … well, Michelle didn’t want to think about it.

  “Mom, it doesn’t really hurt so much as it burns. Like when I put my hand on the stove that time.”

  “It’s a graze, thank God,” Michelle said with relief. “And it’ll hurt until it heals—and maybe some after. But luckily it just got the fleshy part of your thigh.” She was trying to keep Adesina calm, but she was babbling like a maniac.

  Her daughter, who had stopped shaking by now, was remarkably cool. “It helps that my skin is so tough now.” Adesina looked down at herself. “And these are my favorite pair of pants!”

  “You should lie down,” Michelle said. The immediate fear was wearing off, and it was being replaced by rage. Some asshole had shot her daughter.

  “Sonofabitch!” Creighton yelled. “Whoever did this is going to pay!” He swayed a little, reeling, then staggered into the crowd of looky-loos. Nonplussed by his actions, Michelle looked away from Adesina for a moment.

  She turned back to her daughter and started stroking Adesina’s copper-colored hair. “Honey, an ambulance is going to be here soon. Try not to bleed too much in the meantime. And lie down.”

  “First,” Adesina said as she tentatively put weight on her right leg, “it’s just a flesh wound. It’s not even a flesh wound, it’s a graze. You said so yourself. I’m not dead yet. Secondly, I’m not missing the performance. Third, you really want me to lie down in this street? It’s filthy. I’m okay.”

  “You are not okay!” Michelle replied vehemently. “There’s only one person in this family who is impervious to harm, and that’s me, young lady. You are going to the hospital.”

  “Mom!”

  Just then, there was a scuffle in the group of looky-loos and a ginger-haired woman dressed in tight jeans and an elaborately embroidered Roper western wear shirt was dragged into the open part of the intersection.

  “I didn’t mean to do anything!” she cried as she struggled against the people holding her. “I was getting some lip balm out of my purse and it just went off! I have a conceal-carry license! I know my rights. You can’t—”

  There was a loud pop! and the lights for the block flickered out.

  “No one better move,” Michelle said as she spun on her heel, a bubble forming in her hand. “What the hell is wrong with you, lady? There are kids here. Do you know how to use that weapon? Did you even bother to put the safety on?” She’d tried not to be all let’s-just-bubble-the-fuck-out-of-this-crazy-bitch, but she was pretty sure she could get away with it.

  “I’m just taking care of myself! A woman can’t be too careful these days. And besides, it’s my Second Amendment right. We can’t all be like you.”

  There was a hush as Michelle’s other bubbles abruptly stopped moving. Officer Reyes stepped in close and said quietly, “I know you’re angry and upset, but let us do our job. You don’t need to go all Bubbles on her.”

  Michelle’s green eyes narrowed and she said, “I’m pretty sure this is exactly the time for me to go ‘all Bubbles.’”

  “Hey,” Reyes said loudly, putting his hands on his hips as he turned and addressed the crowd. “Now that we know who shot this young lady, y’all can disperse quietly. Go on home now.”

  One of the police officers came over and took the red-haired woman by the arm. One of the looky-loos held her purse out for him. He took her to one of the cruisers and put her in the back seat. Then he put the bag in the front seat and locked the car. He sighed and went back to his original position.

  “I wouldn’t say I’m a lady,” Adesina interjected. “That implies a certain type of behavior that conforms to societal expectations.” She gave Officer Reyes a bright smile.

  “I’m pretty sure that’s not the most important conversation
we could be having right now,” Michelle said. Adesina changed the conversation so fast sometimes it was like having a conversation with Chico Marx. “Also, where did you read about that?”

  “Jezebel,” Adesina replied with a shrug. She put more of her weight on her right foot. She didn’t wince this time. “I think the bleeding has stopped.” She wiped her hand off on her black pants and then put it over her wound again, giving a sharp hiss as she did so. She lifted her palm up to show no blood on it. “See, no big dealio. Also, leathery skin. Very helpful in these gunshot situations.”

  Sirens wailed and horns honked like geese on steroids as the ambulance and fire truck arrived, further blocking looky-loos on the north side of the intersection. The crowd barely moved as the EMTs and firefighters jumped from their vehicles and tried to get through to Michelle and Adesina.

  “Move aside, people! Let them through!” Officer Reyes shouted. “What’s your problem? I said move!”

  Tweedledee replied, “She,” he said, pointing at Michelle, “didn’t say we could.”

  “Seriously?!” Michelle exclaimed. “Really? Are you all that stupid? Move!”

  The jokers and God’s Weenies glared at each other, then turned and hustled back to their respective sides. The crowd of looky-loos began to part to let the EMS responders through.

  And that’s when the giant ape showed up.

  “Jesus Christ!” a joker yelled. The arms of his cloth-thin body were wrapped, like a cloak, around the back of a fellow joker. The other joker—his head looked like a bishop from a Staunton chess set, but with eyes and a mouth—gave a squeal, turned, and began pushing his way through the gaggle of other jokers. For a moment, the rest of the crowd, the EMTs, and the police stopped what they were doing and stared at the massive ape.

  The ape staggered toward the crowd from the west side of East Houston Street. He shoved the police cruisers blocking the intersection aside. Then climbed on top of one and roared.