Wildcard (Stacked Deck Book 1)

by Emilia Finn

  “Winner gets a point,” Mac repeats. “Person with the most points gets to decide our next thing.”

  “Next thing?” Nora asks. She’s as timid as a mouse, but trying really hard not to be.

  “Right,” Mac shuffles the cards and meets her eyes from beneath the brim of his ever-present hat. “So if we’re going out to dinner, winner gets to choose the restaurant. If we’re going to hike or swim or whatever, winner chooses where we go. If we’re going to the gym, winner chooses the circuit. And if we’re gonna watch a movie, winner gets to choose the flick.”

  “Princess Bride.” The three of us say at the same time, which helps dissolve some of the tension I brought home right alongside the scared girl.

  I turn to Nora and smile. “Evie always picks Princess Bride.”

  “We know every fucking word,” Mac grumbles. “Every line. Every annoying sound. Every everything, which is why none of us care who wins, so long as it isn’t Smalls.”

  “You and Evie?” Nora’s cheeks flame when she realizes everyone swivels to stare at the side of her face. “You’re still together?”

  “Well, we weren’t together back in high school. But yeah, we are now. Busted my ass to land that fish.”

  Bean rolls her eyes and accepts the cards Mac begins to toss out. “You guys were together like an hour ago, right?” She tilts her head. “Like, literally.”

  “Right.” I grin at the troublemaker and vow to kick her ass next time we’re sparring.

  She’s making Nora uncomfortable, and call me a gentleman, but I feel like hurting this scared girl is kind of a dick thing to do.

  “I love my girlfriend very much, Lucy. You can relax.”

  “Where is she now?” Nora asks. She looks around, as though Evie is going to jump out of the bushes.

  “She’s flying back to college,” I answer in a lower tone. Nora or not, Bean making trouble or not, today is day one of the six-month separation I’ve been dreading. “She’s getting a business degree, studying away from home, which means she’s gotta fly back for classes. She left today.”

  “We’re all pretty bummed about it,” Bean finally answers with genuine emotion. “So we play cards, and wait for her to land and call us.”

  “Poker,” Mac says when he deals five cards to each of us. “Jokers are wild. Make your best hand and lay down your bets.”

  I lift my cards and almost audibly scoff at my shitty hand. A nine. Two twos. A king. And a joker. Shitty hand if I ever saw one, but the joker makes me smile.

  Evie is my wildcard. She’s crazy and impulsive. She’s aggressive, and the only girl in the world that has to talk her boyfriend into touching her, even going so far as to provide the condom, because he was terrified of the search her daddy might perform at the door.

  If there’s no condom, there’s no temptation.

  Wrong. And I should have expected her move. It’s what she does. Being the pointy tip of any spear is her very soul. It’s why I love her, and why I get frustrated more often than not, because keeping her alive these past few years has been a full-time job in itself.

  And now that she’s gone, I’m left floating.

  When everyone has had time to study their cards and decide how to proceed, I sit back and fold my arms like I think I have a hand of aces. Mac flicks his wrist, as though tossing down chips. “I’m gonna bet five points.”

  It’s a bastardized way to play an old game, but it works for us, it settles arguments later about movie or dinner choices, and it keeps us all out of debt, since points are only points, and not dollars.

  When my phone vibrates at half past three, I toss my cards down and eagerly snatch the device from my pocket. Evie’s flashing name is like a shot of adrenaline, a gust of air that I had no clue I was desperate for.

  I hit accept and slam the cell to my ear much too fast and make myself look like an idiot in front of my friends. “You’ve landed.”

  “I landed,” her voice slides through my ear and into my heart. “And I miss you so much already.” She’s still at the airport; it’s noisy, and the announcements coming over the speakers rattle into my brain. “This place sucks so bad.”

  “I miss you already,” I try to keep my voice down when my friends make no effort to mind their own business. “Are you allowed to have visitors in your room?”

  It’s like I can hear her shrug. “Clair doesn’t seem to care about visitation rules, so whatever. Are you gonna visit me?” Her voice comes louder, more excited. “Really?”

  “I might. I’ll have to work it out with the guys, since you know I’m not flying over there for an hour and making it back before the gym opens.”

  “Dibs on you asking Biggie for time off,” she laughs. “Let me know how that conversation goes.”

  “It’ll hurt,” I murmur, but my smile comes when her laughter is a tinkling balm on my sore heart.

  “What are you doing right now?”

  “I’m at the house playing cards with the guys.”

  “Which guys?” she asks. “Our guys?”

  “Uh huh. Hold on a sec. I’ll video you back.” I hang up without waiting for her reply, then I switch to the camera and hit dial. Her smiling face takes my breath away. Her hair takes up the entire screen, so I see none of her surroundings. “Jesus, Evie.”

  I hold my chest, but her hand comes up to her face. “What? I got a booger?”

  “No.” I hungrily study her every line and angle of her cheeks. Her eyes. Her brows. And her bow lips. “It’s only been hours.”

  “I know,” she whines. She stops walking beside a luggage carousel, and when I get a flash of it – empty – I smile and settle in for a second. She literally just landed, and called me straight away. “Alright,” she says. “I have a few minutes to sit.”

  “Okay, hold on. I’ll turn the camera.” I press a thumb to my screen, and laugh when the camera spins to reveal Bean first. The girls squeal, as though they’ve been separated for a decade, and not a mere few hours.

  “Hey!” Evie’s voice is almost a sob. A cry of desperation that makes my heart ache. “I miss your face so much.”

  “I miss you too.” Bean reaches out, as though to hold Evie’s hand. “Jesus, this college shit is for losers. You need to come home and tell Biggie and Aunt Tina to eat a dick.”

  “Why don’t you start without me,” Evie laughs. “You prime that conversation, and let me know when I’m supposed to jump in and drop the bomb.”

  “I miss you.” Bean turns serious. “It makes me sick now that you’re gone.”

  “I know.” Evie’s brows almost touch as she frowns. “I miss you too.”

  I turn the phone a little and reveal Mac. He’s not feeling great today, but he still flashes his most lady-killer grin and winks like he thinks he stands a chance. “Hey there, Smalls. Your hair got bigger.”

  “Shut the hell up. Also, Bean has a full house.”

  “Evelyn!” Bean tosses her cards down with a huff. “Jerk.”

  I turn the phone to show off my baby sister, but the tension grows the longer this goes on. Nora shakes beside me. Her body actually shivers in a way that I can feel in the air, so when I turn the camera for the final time, she almost looks like she’s going to be sick.

  “And you remember Nora, right?”

  “Nora?”

  I turn the camera back to me to find Evie’s wide eyes.

  “What the… what? Nora? You’re back in town?”

  “Um… yeah.” She clears her throat and leans a little to the left to get into the frame. “I didn’t actually leave. I just stuck close to home for a while.”

  “How are you doing?”

  Evie’s compassionate voice makes my heart throb. She didn’t particularly like Nora back when we were in school. It was purely a jealousy thing, since Evie and I had been bouncing off each other for years already. Flirting, fighting, sparring, verbally smacking each other down. It was a game we enjoyed, but then I became friends with another girl, and suddenly Evie started mak
ing her claim; loudly.

  She didn’t want me – or at least, she didn’t say she wanted me – but she wouldn’t share either.

  “I’m okay,” Nora murmurs. “Life goes on, right?” She shrugs and sits back. “I don’t know how to play poker, though. Turns out I suck at this.”

  Evie laughs. It’s forced and fake, but she’s trying, and she never goes fake for anyone. That means she understands Nora’s fragility. “You learn fast when you realize these guys choose shitty movies. You learn how to win every damn time, otherwise you end up watching Rambo or some such bullshit.”

  “I… uh…” Nora licks her bottom lip. “It’s good to see you. Sorta. Ya know?”

  Evie laughs. “I get it. It’s good to see you, too.”

  Evie

  Fake It Till You Make It

  The buzzer sounds that announces our bags are coming down onto the luggage carousel. Ten minutes ago, I was begging for the bag guys to take a full hour, just to give me time with Ben, but now, a relieved sigh almost escapes my throat and calls me out for the liar that I am.

  “Anyway. I have to go for now.” I stare into Ben’s eyes and smile as big as my mood can manage. “Call me tonight?”

  He leaves the table he sits at with our friends, skips down the steps, and moves onto crackling grass. “I love you, Evie. I wish we didn’t have to do this.”

  “Me too.” I sigh. “To both. I love you too, and I wish I wasn’t in this shitty place.”

  I jump forward when my case comes into sight. A middle-aged dude makes a move to grab it for me, since it’s massive and I look kinda small, but I snatch it up with one hand and a grunt, set it on its wheels, and flash the peace sign as I walk toward the taxis outside.

  Whenever we fly to fights, we tend to ride in limos, if only because the bigwigs like to impress the Kincaids and send someone for us. But in this city, I’m not a Kincaid. I’m Evie, the chick who refuses to talk to anyone, and the chick who lifts her own case into the trunk of the cab and slides into the backseat with nothing more than a grunt in acknowledgment.

  Some might say I’ve perfected the art of the resting bitch face, just like Ben teased, but mostly it’s an ache in my heart. I don’t want to make friends here, because mine are all back home. I don’t want to join in any clubs or sports, because mine is back at home.

  I have two years to pass as painlessly as possible, and then at least Bean can join me. It won’t be the same as being at home with everyone else, but it’ll be better than the hell I live while here alone.

  “Hey, Evie?”

  Ben’s using his real talk voice, so I sit back in the cab and meet his eyes. “Yeah?”

  “Nora being here…” He clears his throat and inadvertently shows off his strong jaw as the muscles clench and release. “That’s okay, right? It’s not something you need to worry about.”

  “I know.” I wave him off and pray he can’t see the way my heart pounds. “The thing that happened to her sister; it gives us perspective, right? This isn’t high school, and that kind of drama is dumb.”

  “Right.” He blows out a relieved sigh and grins. “Exactly. I knew you’d understand.”

  “I really have to go, okay? But we’ll talk tonight?”

  “Definitely.” He runs a hand through his hair and groans. Saying goodbye is as painful for him as it is for me. The difference is, when the line goes dead, he has family right there. “I love you. I’m counting down until July.”

  “Me too…” I close my eyes and will myself to relax. “Hey, Ben?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Can we video call tonight and watch Princess Bride?”

  He chuckles. “As you wish, Princess Buttercup.”

  I walk into Econ101 at nine the next morning with a little less dread swirling in my stomach. Being away from home sucks, but after the initial shock, it tends to get a tiny bit easier. Not a lot, but it’s never as bad as the minutes when I’m walking along the tunnel toward my flight.

  Our classes are held in an auditorium of sorts, with chairs and desks stretching back in levels so we can all see our professor. I always search for the seat closest to the aisle, away from other people, and within easy escape should the zombie apocalypse come… or should I decide that the college life and my daddy’s approval just aren’t that important to me.

  One is about as likely as the other, but that doesn’t stop me from finding the same seat every class, dropping my shit with a loud boom, and slumping down into the chair like I weigh four hundred pounds and my legs can’t support me any longer.

  I keep my headphones in my ears almost around the clock when I’m here, volume up between classes, and volume down when the lecturers take their place and try to call their students to attention.

  I don’t understand what they’re saying. Ever. It’s almost a waste of time for me to go to class, because it’s always too much for my brain, and my main learning happens when I’m speaking with Ben on the phone. He has this ability to break down the material and explain it in such a way that my brain can understand.

  Instead of discussing supply and demand in terms of cars or computers, we talk gym hours, or boxing gloves. He knows me better than anyone else, so he brings it to my level, and never makes me feel stupid for my inability to grasp what is only a level one, first year subject.

  “Curls.” A pencil smacks my shoulder, not with a light tap, but like its handler is swinging a baseball bat. “Curls. You in there? Take your plugs out.”

  With narrowed eyes and a healthy dose of adrenaline zinging through my blood, I pull the headphones from my ears and turn to find that same dude from last semester holding a pencil twelve inches from my face. He starts out with a smirk, but it lessens when he catches sight of my furious gaze. “What?”

  “Women do not need to answer to you simply because you tap their shoulder. We especially don’t have to answer when you’re using misogynistic nicknames like you think you’re funny.”

  He sits back in the chair over my right shoulder and lifts his hands. They’re callused, rough, and a little red where the calluses are fresh. “I would use your real name if you had told me what it was, but since you refuse…”

  “Exactly. I didn’t tell you, which means I don’t want to.”

  I turn back to face the empty lecturer’s podium, and sigh.

  He’s late. To his own effing class, he’s late.

  “Ya know, you don’t have to be so mean to me.” Reid – that’s his name. I remember, since so few people have ever knocked me on my ass in my life – grins when I turn to glare over my shoulder. “I’m just a dude, trying to say hey to a chick with big hair.”

  “Annoying nicknames, and an attempt to mention something you think I’m insecure about. Toxic male syndrome, perhaps? Put the girl down, then pick her up and act the hero when she’s in a funk?”

  “You have man troubles?” His lips quirk into a grin. “I don’t know why I’m the recipient, but it’s whatever. I have broad shoulders.”

  I roll my eyes and turn away again. He does have broad shoulders, and it bothers me that he made my eyes flicker to them for the barest second. “You do you, dude. Stay away from me.”

  Finally, Professor Whatever-his-name-is steps through the door in a hurried frenzy, and brings with him an air of we-have-to-do-everything-now. All because he’s late.

  He tosses a briefcase onto his spotless desk, powers up a screen projector, and turns to us, giving us all a view of the cliché elbow patches on his suede coat. “Welcome back, students! I hope you had a nice break, because now it’s time to dig in and get some work done.”

  “Rollin On Gym?” That voice whispers mere inches from my ear. “You’ve been there? That place is the shit.”

  “Nope. Never been.” I sit forward, as though that’ll help block him out.

  “You asked if I was a fighter,” he murmurs. His pencil begins tapping the middle of my back. Once. Twice. Three times, as he runs the risk of losing his arm. “You have a Rollin On Gym hoodie
on, you asked me about fighting last year, but you say you’ve never been.”

  “Nope. Go away please.”

  “I know fighters.” Tap. Tap. Tap. “And call me an optimist, but I think you do too.” He chuckles when I turn my head just a little to the right. “I see your knuckles. You think we don’t recognize that in another fighter?”

  Point one to Reid the fighter, while I sit in my Roller apparel and pretend I don’t know the very people that hold my heart.

  “Girls can’t fight.” I turn away and bite the acid that my statement leaves on my tongue.

  My entire life has been about building women up and convincing them that yes, they can fight. And now my stupid ass is spouting off comebacks that are baseless and dumb.

  “Sure they can,” he murmurs. He completely ignores the lecturer, but then again, there isn’t a student in this auditorium who doesn’t. “I’ve seen girls lay out some of the toughest dudes ever. At my gym, we don’t discriminate.”

  “That’s nice.” His impassioned speech actually softens me toward him, but I can’t, I refuse to make friends in this place. “Please be quiet. Tuition costs a fortune, and you’re wasting my parents’ money right now.”

  “Just give me a minute,” he counters. “One minute to make my case. I’m confident you’ll want to hear what I have to say. And if not,” he shrugs, “I’ll leave this class and go to the one I’m supposed to be in.”

  I spin with wide eyes. “You’re not even supposed to be in this class? Why the hell are you here?”

  “One sentence?” He lifts a finger. “Let me give you my elevator pitch.”

  “Fine! What? What do you need me to know?”

  “Sparta is the name of our gym, and we boast the best athletes in the world.” He sits forward and demands my attention. “The Rollers are like royalty to us, and since there’s no reason for us to settle for second best, I know people who are going to approach them soon. We have a… well…” He flashes a wide grin. He got me to listen, and he’s beyond his one sentence. “A proposition to make, of sorts.”