Texas Hold'em

by Wild Cards Trust

  “Well, not really. I know my dad dealt with a lot of shit, but he died when I was like two. Never really knew him.”

  Dina touched his arm. It was just a quick, light touch of condolence, but it sent a surge of electric energy through him. “Sorry. But you did know him. Other than your mom he’s the first person you knew. Right?”

  She had a point. He’d never quite thought of it that way. “But I don’t remember knowing him.”

  “Yeah, but that’s not the same as never knowing him. You probably know him more than you think. He’s alive in you, you know? All of our ancestors are. Pretty cool to think about that, huh?”

  Though he wanted to—though he felt himself falling into the idea as much as he was falling into her eyes and smile—Bacho didn’t get a chance to contemplate it.

  They both turned at a sound. Bacho’s pulse raced, first out of fear of being discovered. And then out of disappointment. For once, Bacho wished Jax and Darryl just wouldn’t show. But there they were, jogging toward them, looking elated. “Dude,” Jax said, “we came so close to getting busted. Bambi was like roaming the halls.”

  “She’s insane,” Darryl added. “You should’ve seen her.”

  Jax silenced him with a wave of his hand. “We dodged her, though. And guess what? I grabbed some liquid gold to loosen us up.” He turned Darryl halfway around, indicating his backpack.

  “What are you talking about?” Bacho asked.

  “Booze, man. They were breaking down one of the events in the conference rooms. A guy parked a bar cart in the hallway and I was like, What do we have here? I grabbed a bottle.”

  “A bottle of what?” Bacho asked.

  Jax shrugged. “Sherry.”

  “Sherry?”

  “Hey, I only had a second. Don’t complain.”

  Dina did not look amused. “You don’t really need to drink, you know? The Drop is cool enough by itself. You don’t need to get sloshed, especially not on sherry. That’s like … muck.”

  “Muck?” Darryl asked.

  Jax ignored him. “I’ll be the judge of that. Where’s your cousin, anyway?”

  Looking past him, Dina smiled. “She’s here. Hey cuz.”

  The boys all turned as another figure stepped into the shadows and moved down the alley toward them. When she stepped into the light from the streetlamp, Bacho recognized her. Antonia, the joker drummer girl. What was she doing here?

  “You’ve got to be kidding me!” Jax said. “This is a joke, right?”

  “What’s Fish-fingers doing here?” Darryl added.

  Turning back to Dina, Jax said, “No, seriously, what’s this joker doing here? She’s your—”

  “Cousin.” Dina slipped through the boys, embraced Antonia. With her arm around her shoulder, turned back to the boys. Now that Bacho saw them side by side, he noticed a vague family resemblance, in the shape of the jaw and mouth mostly. There was also a marked contrast in their expressions. Dina looked beside herself with amusement; Antonia looked ready to punch someone, with her tentacles squeezed into two bulbous fists. What would it feel like to get punched by one of those? Bacho wondered, but he didn’t want to find out.

  “She’s my cousin,” Dina repeated, “and she’s coming out with us, like I said.”

  Jax seemed to have a hard time finding a response. Lamely, he fell back on his favorite indignation. “But she’s a joker! I hate jokers.”

  Smirking, Antonia flipped one of her tentacled hands over, curled most of the writhing appendages into a knotted ball, with just one long squirming digit standing upright. A recognizable gesture if ever there was one. “What you hate is that I drummed you into the ground today. If the voting had been fair—”

  “That’s bull. You shouldn’t even have been in the competition! None of you jokers—”

  “Would you stop saying jokers!” Antonia snapped.

  “Jokers, jokers, jokers!” was Jax’s response.

  That led to a rapid-fire verbal exchange of insults, which, in Bacho’s estimation, Antonia was winning on points. Dina watched them, that mischievous grin on her face again. Eventually, Antonia turned to her and said, “This wasn’t a good idea. I can’t hang out with these assholes.”

  Dina was as calm as ever. “Sure you can. They’re not necessarily all assholes.” She glanced at Bacho when she said that. “Listen, we don’t have to be best buds. Let’s just go to the Drop, like we planned. It’s not going to kill you guys to be seen with … with my awesome cuz. You already snuck out. The hard part is done. Might as well make the most of it. And you,” she added, squeezing Antonia’s shoulder, “can settle it on the dance floor. How about that?”

  Antonia kept her face hard, but Dina’s smile eventually wore her down. “Fine,” she said. “On the dance floor.”

  Jax scowled. “I’m not dancing with her!”

  “I’m not dancing with you!” Antonia fired back, her face a mask of disdain. “God, I’d rather hurl.”

  On that note, the group moved off. They weren’t exactly the cohesive unit Bacho would’ve hoped for, but he was glad Jax and Darryl didn’t bail. He certainly didn’t want to, and he wasn’t sure how he’d have handled that. Stay with the girls, as he wanted to? Or hang with the boys, as they’d pressure him to? He didn’t, really, have anything against Antonia. She was a damn good drummer, and if she was related to Dina … well, that went in her favor.

  Her hands kept drawing his eyes, though he tried not to show it. They were always in writhing motion, like creatures separate from her, each tentacle moving like it had a mind of its own. Bacho thought they changed color, too. At least, he’d thought they were dark red when she was arguing with Jax. But as she strolled along with Dina chatting to her, they faded to a light hue, pinkish, with occasional dark or light flashes, like different shades of ink tossed into water. Weird. But also kinda cool. He wanted to look at them more closely, to ask her about them, to touch them. Not in a weird sexual way. Just … he was curious. He kept that to himself, though.

  Jax and Darryl stopped a couple times to take swigs from the sherry bottle. Bacho declined, saying he would, later, but not really wanting to. He wasn’t a drinker in any event, but moreover he didn’t want Dina to think he was muck. Whatever that meant, it didn’t sound good. He wondered how strong sherry was. Could the two of them get smashed off one bottle? He hoped not. Who knew what they’d get up to drunk.

  They’d just started through a small, quiet park when Darryl stopped in his tracks. “What the…”

  Something flew through the air, over the trees, and toward them. It was a tumbling stretchy form, like a giant loogie hocked into the night sky. The kids all froze and watched it hurtle toward them, so fast they didn’t have time to react. Just when it was occurring to Bacho that they should dive for cover, the thing changed shape. It suddenly billowed, expanded, became a parachute as it caught the air, checked its speed, and drifted gently to the ground. As it touched down it changed form again. It congealed into a glob that morphed into human form, a tall, lanky man, who squirmed into trousers and a V-neck sweater even as his body took shape. And then it was done. He stood there, stooped over slightly, with a crooked smile on his wide mouth. Bacho recognized him as one of the chaperones from the competition.

  Antonia said, “Mr. Ruttiger?”

  “Antonia,” he responded, half-sternly and half-gently. He nodded at Dina and said, “Dina.”

  Fortunately, the bottle of sherry was zipped away in the pack on Darryl’s back. But if he demanded to check it … Jax clearly had the same thought. He inched away from Darryl, looking, for once, small and meek. Silent.

  “How did you do that?” Antonia asked. “I’d no idea you could—”

  “That’s a topic for another time. What, young lady, are you doing out in the middle of the night? It’s well past curfew, as I’m sure you know.” He looked the group over, his face growing grave as his eyes bored into the boys one after another. “I’m not sure I approve of the company you’re keeping.”
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br />   “Tell me about it,” Antonia said.

  “Are these boys bothering you?”

  “It’s okay, Mr. Ruttiger,” Dina said. “They’re with us. No abuse … or, nothing we can’t handle, at least.”

  The teacher sighed. “You shouldn’t be out here. Come with me. I’m afraid I’ll have to report this to your respective teachers.”

  “Crap,” Jax said.

  “Oh, man,” Darryl added.

  “Wait,” Dina said, for once not looking completely calm and collected. “We can explain.”

  “I’m sure you can, but that won’t—”

  “Please, Mr. Ruttiger, just listen. Um … Could we just talk over here for a second?”

  The teacher began to protest, but Antonia tugged on his arm. Dina motioned for the boys to stay put, and the two girls led the teacher a little ways down the street. As soon as they were far enough away, they launched into a fervent, whispered conversation with him. Both girls gesticulated as they talked, Antonia’s tentacles all taking part.

  At first Mr. Ruttiger just crossed his arms, shook his head, and kept trying to cut in. But the more they talked, the more he leaned toward them, listening. Several times Dina pointed back at the boys, making Mr. Ruttiger turn and look at them.

  “Should we bolt when he’s not looking?” Darryl asked under his breath.

  “Don’t be stupid,” Jax said. “He knows who we are. That’ll just get us in more trouble. Shit. Whose stupid idea was this?”

  “Ah,” Bacho began, “if you recall it was—”

  Jax smacked him in the chest with the back of his hand. “Shhh. What do you think they’re saying?”

  “I don’t know,” Bacho said, “but it better be good or we’re all toast.”

  Darryl began to squirm out of the backpack. “Here, take this.”

  “No way!” Jax backed away from him.

  “It was your idea!”

  “I’m not touching that. Keep it on your back and don’t act like—”

  Bacho said, “They’re coming.”

  Both boys snapped to attention. Darryl grudgingly pulled the backpack into place again. Jax sidestepped away, putting Bacho nearer to him. Jerk, Bacho thought.

  Dina, Antonia, and Mr. Ruttiger strolled back, the teacher walking in that strange, not-quite-right gait of his. “You’d better not make me regret this,” he said, once they reached the boys and he’d looked them over, gravely.

  “We won’t,” Dina and Antonia said in unison.

  “It’s your safety that matters most.”

  “We know,” Dina said. “This is all absolutely safe. And it’s not far away and—”

  “Okay, okay. You explained it all well enough.” He waved them away. “Go on before I change my mind.” To the boys, he added, “I just hope you learn from this.” With that, he started back toward the hotel. A few strides and his body began to stretch and morph. He stayed in human shape, but became a melted, Gumby-like version of himself.

  “That dude is weird,” Darryl said.

  “No,” Dina corrected, “that dude is cool enough not to bust us.”

  “He’s letting us go?” Jax asked. “Holy fuck. I thought we were grilled cheese. What did you all say to him?”

  Dina flashed her mischievous smile again. “Oh, don’t worry about it. Point is, we’re free to go. So … let’s go.”

  She and Antonia began walking across the park.

  Jax held Darryl back. “Hang on a minute.” He looked around, suddenly cagey. The streets weren’t empty, but nobody was particularly near them, and the trees at the edge of the park provided some cover. “Gimme the bottle,” he said. He spun Darryl around and tugged at the pack’s zipper.

  “Oh, now you want it!”

  “Shut up, douche!” Jax got the sherry bottle out. Holding it close to his chest, he scanned the park again. He uncorked the sherry and took a chug. He pulled away suddenly, spilling a little and looking like he was about to hurl. Then he shook that off. Smiling, he said, “Damn!” He handed the bottle to Darryl, who took a somewhat less robust swig.

  Dina and Antonia walked back to them. Dina looked from one to the other for a moment, and then stretched out her hand.

  “I thought you said we didn’t need it.”

  She shrugged, and gestured impatiently with her fingers.

  Jax smiled. “Now we’re talking.” He took the bottle from Darryl and offered it to her. “You can make it a double if you want.”

  Dina held the bottle by the neck. She sidestepped slightly, taking her off the grass and onto the paved path that bisected the park. Smiling at Jax, she held the bottle out. She said, “Oops.” And dropped it.

  The bottle hit the cement with a muted crack. The glass shattered into large, jagged chunks and the sherry gushed across the cement. Jax and Darryl both surged toward it as it dropped, and then jumped back as it broke, and then crouched forward again, hands out as if to undo what had just happened. Or, failing that, as if they could scoop up the sherry before it drained away. Neither worked, so they fell back on swearing and moaning.

  “What’d you do that for?” Jax yelled. His body jerked in a dance of frustration, his cool completely gone.

  Dina checked that none of the liquor had splashed on her sneakers. She calmly said, “Sorry, I’m a clumsy girl.”

  “Bullshit, you did that on purpose!”

  “Did I?” She put on an expression of mock confusion, and then made it evaporate. “I promised Mr. Ruttiger there’d be no drinking. It was one of the conditions of him letting us slide. So, you’re welcome.” She pulled out her phone and checked the time. “Let’s go. DJ Tod will be on soon. We have to get there before he starts.”

  She hooked Antonia’s arm in hers and the two of them walked away. Watching them, Bacho imagined being on Dina’s other side, feeling the soft flesh of her inner elbow brushing against his. Like that was ever going to happen.…

  “This is so lame,” Darryl said.

  “She’s so lame,” Jax corrected.

  “Maybe we could get someone to buy us some beer or something. You think anybody would?”

  “Not unless they’re creeps,” Bacho said. He crouched and began gingerly collecting the shards of glass. “Buying underage kids liquor? Creepy.”

  “Screw this whole thing,” Jax said. “Let’s go back to the hotel.”

  “Yeah, she’s just messing with us.”

  Bacho stood, holding the smaller pieces of glass within the larger ones. He looked at both boys frankly, knowing they were waiting—expecting, requiring, demanding—that he agree. Normally, he would have gone along with them, but he found he didn’t feel like doing that. “You can go back if you want, but I’m going with them.”

  “You’d bail on us?”

  “Well, in a way you’re bailing on us, actually.”

  Jax scowled. “Now you and them are us? Coming out wasn’t even your idea, remember?”

  Of course he did. But that was then. “I just want to go,” he said. “If Dina goes there it must be cool.”

  “‘If Dina goes there it must be cool,’” Darryl whined. “Crush much?”

  Bacho’s face flushed warm and embarrassed. “No, I’m just … you know … saying. It’s gonna be cool, I think. So, I’m going.”

  He turned and, carrying the shards of glass held away from his body, followed the girls. He deposited the broken bottle in a trash bin at the edge of the park. Dina watched him from the other side of the street. He’d just crossed over when he heard Jax’s and Darryl’s feet slapping on the pavement. Bacho sighed, but Dina looked pleased. Before the two boys reached them, she said, “Thanks for that. Picking up the glass, I mean. That was cool of you.” And then, to Bacho’s amazement, she slipped her arm through his and tugged him into motion. “You’re gonna love this,” she said.

  He already did.

  The club didn’t look like much from the outside. With its squat, windowless gray façade, Bacho might’ve taken it for a warehouse and walked right past i
t. A single sign hung on the bland wall: DROP CITY in muted brown letters. They weren’t exactly screaming their presence to the world. Still, a line of people stretched from the door halfway down the block, a diverse crowd: white and black, Latino and Asian, mostly nats, but with a few obvious jokers here and there. They dressed in all manner of clothing, with no rhyme or reason or particular style to it. Bacho was relieved about that. He was no clubber, and he’d worried about looking out of fashion. Clearly there wasn’t any particular way these clubgoers dressed. Everyone seemed happy, which was another relief. Excited, chatting, smiling, laughing, embracing friends as they arrived.

  As they passed into the dim interior, the music that had been a dull thrumming beat from outside became louder, more physical, pulsing and vibrating in the air. Bacho had the feeling he was leaving the normality of the outside world behind and stepping into unknown territory. As they stood waiting to pay the entry charges, Bacho read another, smaller sign: By entering you give your consent to full Drop City Experience. Bacho thought, Okay. Bring it on. He couldn’t have said where that newfound confidence came from, but, despite all the ways he feared he’d make a fool of himself, there was an energy building in him, humming at his center and radiating up into his head and out through his arms. It made him feel tingly, loose. Maybe it was the music, and maybe they were all feeling it. Dina was swaying slightly, her head bobbing to the electronic beat. Antonia was stiffer, but her tentacles … well, they couldn’t be stiff. They moved in rhythmic pulses, those colors shifting.

  They each paid the cover charge and an added “clothes deposit.” Bacho, not wanting to sound stupid, didn’t ask what a clothes deposit was. Jax didn’t have the same reserve.

  The cashier, a skinny girl with a red heart tattooed on her cheek, said, “It goes into a fund. We buy clothes and bank them. If you need any clothes replaced you can take your pick. If you don’t … maybe next time.”

  “Why would we need new clothes?” Darryl asked.

  “You know. If things get ripped, shredded. The usual sort of stuff. Who’s next?”