She's Got Game Page 7

  “Come on, guys, you know what I mean.”

  “We do, but you can’t set yourself up like that,” Dustin said. “Anyway, no, I don’t have wood for sheep.”

  Another snort from me earned a derisive look from Tom. “I know I’m wasting my time with you.”

  “Not so fast,” I said. “I’ll trade.”

  He did a double take, so fast if he’d been drinking from his soda, I’d be wearing it. “You? But you never trade!”

  Michelle leaned forward. “You never trade? How did you make it here?”

  “I trade all the time. Except when I’m playing with specific people who’ve aggravated me.” I pulled a card and offered it to Tom. “But if we trade, you can’t tell Cody.”

  He nodded, taking the card and handing me one of his. “Don’t have to. He’s sitting behind you.”

  I turned to find Cody’s chocolate brown eyes boring into my back from the adjacent table. A sheepish smile crossed my face. Not knowing what to say, I shrugged at him and turned back to my table.

  His laughter followed me. “Don’t worry. We’ll talk about it tonight.”

  Without looking at him, I fired off a response. “Sorry, I made other plans.”

  “Liar. I’ll pick you up at seven.”

  Well, crap. He really could tell when I was lying. A warm sensation started to grow in my chest. How embarrassing that he’d figured out my tells. Or at least that’s what I told myself.

  * * * *

  Ignoring Cody when he sat behind me proved to be even more difficult than when we played together. At least when we sat at the same table, I could see where he focused his attention. I’d know when his eyes slid down to the front of my shirt or when my arm brushed against him. Now, he occupied my thoughts. Was he watching me? What was he thinking? Had the back of my shirt come untucked from my pants? Did I have plumber’s crack? And if so, was he looking? The fact that he distracted me from the game even when not sitting beside me made me like him even less.

  After Cody rescued us from Lucas, I wondered if I’d been wrong about him, that he might be a decent guy, and not just an incurable flirt or trying to get into my pants. Genuine interest wasn’t enough to make me break my rule, but I wanted to respect his feelings. Cocky guys who drifted from one hookup to the next or who relied on their looks to win board games deserved the well-placed barb to take them down a notch or two. But if Cody had real feelings for me, or if he was as nice as he sometimes seemed, I wanted to let him down easy. The problem was, I couldn’t tell. Properly reading social cues was not exactly a gamer’s forte. Gaming cues were an entirely different matter.

  Besides, when I started to question Cody’s motives, he’d disappeared on me. I’d thought maybe he’d reach out after that night in the bar. Not hearing from him threw me for a loop. He and Holly followed each other on Instagram, and he’d been commenting on her posts for weeks. But he didn’t follow me, he didn’t reply to my comments, and of course I would never follow him first. It would’ve taken him close to zero effort to get my contact info, especially since all he had to do was DM Holly. She’d give it up, no question.

  Holly had always made it her personal mission to fix up her friends and family. Apparently, this started when she was about thirteen. The Eternal Pollyanna, not even her bad breakup made a dent in her zest for romance. It was both touching and irritating, because I didn’t want to fall in love and get married and have babies. But I put up with it, because we went way back. Anyway, she’d be delighted if Cody asked her for my number. Since I hadn’t heard from him, he hadn’t asked. His nice guy persona must be as much an act to as the cocky flirt. At least he must see me as a serious threat if he went to such efforts to distract me.

  The worst thing was, it was working. After spotting Cody behind me, I made two big strategical errors, which put me behind. I managed to regain some ground because I was the only player at the table who controlled the resources everyone needed, so I eked out some advantageous trades. But every time I swapped cards, Cody’s eyes bored into my guilty back. Probably my imagination; he was after all playing his own game back there. Damn Tom for drawing my attention to Cody. He lacked the social awareness for me to think he did it on purpose, but still, if he won, I’d be pissed.

  Luckily for Tom, or not I supposed, Michelle got to ten points first. She flipped her face down cards, revealing three hidden victory points. Dustin groaned, but I smiled at her. If I couldn’t win this one, I was happy to see the other girl pull a victory. “Nice job!”

  “Thanks!”

  Like with the local tournament, players got ranked on placement, first to fourth, at the end of the round. I’d already taken my turn, which meant I didn’t get to go again. Eight points. Crap. That’s what I got for letting some guy distract me, especially one not even sitting at the table. Hadn’t I learned my lesson the day I crashed Dad’s car into the shop?

  Tom wound up with nine points, but Dustin got completely hosed by a couple of bad dice rolls, leaving him in fourth. I hated starting the day with a third place loss, but at least strong showings in the rest of the games should get me into tomorrow’s event. Coming in last created a tougher mountain to scale later.

  Thankfully, when everyone moved and the next game started, I couldn’t even see Cody. A sea of tables filled the room between my table and his, meaning he’d have to stand before I caught a glimpse of him. Standing had been banned by the tournament a couple of years ago due to the “player intimidation” factor. If only they’d placed a similar limitation on flirting with the competition, I’d be sitting much prettier right now.

  With a shake of my braids, I forced those thoughts out of my head. My current table held the type of serious players who grunted hello and discouraged small talk, before and during the game. Exactly what I needed to refocus on the reason I’d come here: To win ten thousand dollars.

  Starting in third position gave me a decent opening placement. Two of my opponents were vying to get extra points for attacking the other players, and the third couldn’t get a single dice roll to go his way. Poor guy. I traded with him when I could, because unless the dice changed their nature, he’d wind up a very distant fourth. Otherwise, I kept my head down and plodded toward victory. Testosterone filled the table, nearly choking me, but as long as the alpha males focused on each other and not me, I didn’t mind.

  Had they ganged up on me rather than attacking each other, I probably would’ve been out of the competition right then and there. Apparently neither considered “the girl” a threat, because they ignored me. Fools.

  Barely half an hour into the game, I upgraded a building and expanded my growing network of roads, netting me four points at once. “That’s ten.”

  Two alpha male jaws dropped. The third player smiled at me. “Nice job.”

  “Thanks!”

  The victory felt doubly sweet after my earlier loss. Take that, Cody. You may be a four-time champion, but I’m going to win this year.

  Chapter 7

  The rest of the day passed uneventfully, in a blur of dice-rolling, card-passing, and piece placement. The only interesting part was when Cody stopped me at the beginning of the lunch break to make plans for later. Holly and I had to pick up our stuff and go check into our room, with not much time to get back, so I told him I’d meet him at the hotel bar. He agreed, but slipped me his number in case I thought of somewhere else to go. I wanted to tell him I’d happily go anywhere without him, but Holly waited for me.

  When all was said and done, we both scored high enough to make it to the next round in the morning. Unfortunately, so had Cody. Holly invited me for a drink to celebrate our mutual victory, but I passed, telling her I already made plans.

  She raised an eyebrow at me. “Oh, really? What’s more important than going out with your best friend to celebrate getting into the next round of the most important contest we’ve ever been in? Of being one step clo
ser to the ultimate grand prize? You don’t want to talk about the amazing vacation you’ll take with Daddy McHotcakes if you win?”

  “I’d love to, but, um…I sort of let myself get roped into having drinks with Cody.” Warmth flooded my face at the words. For some reason, I didn’t want to tell her the way he helped out when we confronted Lucas, so I offered a half-truth. “Just as friends. It’s no big deal.”

  “Oh, really? You’re breaking your ‘No Gamers’ rule for the first time since I met you, and it’s no big deal?”

  “I’m not breaking any rule. It’s not a date, we’re not going to hook up,” I said. “It’s one drink. You could come, too.”

  “Uh-huh,” she said. “I’ll pass. You better leave early.”

  “Why?”

  “So you have time to buy condoms before meeting him.”

  I swatted playfully at her, but my cheeks grew even hotter.

  Her eyes widened. “Oh, man, I was kidding, but you like him, don’t you?”

  “Of course not,” I snapped at her. “He’s my arch-nemesis. And yours, too. You know, the guy we both have to beat to win? He’s only flirting with me to throw me off my game. I might as well take advantage and pick his brain a bit. Strategy tips and stuff.”

  “Right.” She nodded a bit too vigorously. “Because you need lots of strategy tips to win a game you’ve been playing since you were eleven.”

  Thankfully, I was saved from further discussion when John arrived. As a member of the national board, he attended all the competitions to help out. He said he enjoyed it more than playing, although once in a while, I caught him gazing wistfully at the tables. Then again, he’d won the competition in 2001, 2002, 2003, 2004, and 2005, so when the old chair retired, he decided to give someone else a chance. No one else in history had accumulated so many consecutive wins, although Cody was almost there. Unless I stopped him.

  “Hey,” John said. “A group of us are going next door for dinner and drinks. You ladies in?”

  I thanked him and declined without saying why, but Holly left with a grin and wave that left me rolling my eyes at her. A quick professional drink, that was it. Then I realized how many people we knew who would be at the bar. I texted Cody and asked if I could meet him at a nearby pub in about half an hour. He agreed, so I started walking, preferring the bustle of the city and the sun on my shoulders over taking a car or getting on the subway.

  About three blocks into my walk, I remembered how disgustingly humid the city could be in the summer. Good thing I didn’t want to impress Cody, because sweat poured down my face. When I paused at a corner and glanced into the window of the nearest store, a tomato looked back at me. A sweaty tomato with nasty hair.

  Since I had plenty of time to get to the bar, I ducked into the nearest drug store. A massive bottle of water and travel-sized antiperspirant would make me feel significantly better. It only took a moment to pay for my purchases, so before heading back into the blistering heat I waited, soaking in the air conditioning while I gulped down half the water at once. Heavenly.

  A bell jingled, reminding me that I’d rudely stopped in front of the doors, one of my biggest pet peeves about tourists. Despite traveling most of the time, I never felt like a tourist. There was a definite difference between the business traveler and the pleasure traveler. Except in this moment, when I stood in the way.

  “Sorry,” I said automatically, stepping aside while wiping water off my mouth with one hand.

  The woman entering the store didn’t reply, simply stepped toward me with a sniff. She somehow looked fresh as a spring day, despite the outside temps. Not a single red hair out of place, her perfectly-applied make-up not streaking down her face in sweat rivulets. Then again, her crisp linen suit and five-inch heels suggested she hadn’t walked here. A woman like this probably took taxis everywhere, or a private car service. Must be nice.

  Then our eyes met, and I nearly spit out a mouthful of water. It was like looking into the future. The woman wore my exact face, fifteen years later. Same brown eyes, same freckles. Same color hair, which almost made me want to ask if she dyed it to cover gray. Except I couldn’t speak. My mouth turned to a desert.

  She recognized me in the same instant with a jolt. One hand went to her throat.

  A million thoughts flew through my head. I hadn’t seen my mother in more than fifteen years, and suddenly, through a twist of fate, she stood in front of me. What if I’d decided to take a ride share to the bar, or if I’d gone to the bar with Holly and John instead of meeting Cody? This was my moment, my chance to rekindle our relationship.

  “Mom?”

  She flinched. I’d love to pretend that’s not what it was, but she definitely flinched at the sound of my voice. Or perhaps hearing herself referred to as a mom. Lying to myself wouldn’t take the sting out of her reaction. My heart plummeted.

  “Beverly? Is everything okay?” The voice came from behind her. Until he spoke, I hadn’t even realized she entered with someone else. The man was about fifteen years older than my father, with crow’s feet marking his eyes and gray hairs streaking his temples. He towered over my mother and me, making it surprising that I hadn’t seen him. Or maybe not, under the circumstances.

  I pasted a smile on my face and reached out a hand to introduce myself. I moved too slowly. Before I got the first word out, she spun on the toe of her shoe. A flash of red soles told me those shoes cost more than she ever spent on child support for her only daughter.

  “On second thought, we don’t have time to stop. We need to get to the Harrisons’ before it gets much later.” Even her voice sounded like mine. Had there been any doubt in my mind who this woman was, hearing her talk would have removed it. She’d managed to lose the Boston accent, but it was still her.

  When the meaning of her words hit me, I shook my head, backing away. My vision blurred. “No. No no no.”

  “Miss? Is something wrong?”

  “She’s fine, dear,” my mother said, putting one hand on his arm. “You know how kids are these days. Probably high on laundry detergent or something. I told you this was a bad neighborhood to stop in. Let’s go.”

  He held the door open while she waltzed past him, then looked questioningly at me. Dimly, I realized that my mouth hung open, but closing it required impossible effort. I stared right past the stranger at my mother’s retreating form. Was it possible he didn’t notice the resemblance? Even dusty, overheated, and sweaty, I still looked like me. Like her.

  When I didn’t move, he shrugged and let the door fall shut, separating me further from them. Still, my throat refused to make a sound, my limbs wouldn’t work enough to follow them.

  This couldn’t be happening. My mother couldn’t be rejecting me to my face, not when I hadn’t seen her in years. Not when she hadn’t so much as sent a birthday card. Not when I wrote her a letter for every single accomplishment of my life, and she hadn’t replied to one. She’d ignored me a thousand times, a thousand different ways, but I never considered that she might look at me and pretend she didn’t know me.

  My knees crumpled, and I staggered backwards, leaning against the wall. Another customer looked at me, but moved out of the way without saying anything.

  I don’t know what I expected when I eventually saw my mother again, but it wasn’t this. Sure, for years, I dreamed of her showing up at my eighth grade graduation, of telling me she was proud of me, of sharing a heart-to-heart talk the night before my wedding. In my dreams she never denied me so callously. She never pretended not to recognize me.

  And pretending, she definitely was. My mother was in her early forties. It’s not as if she might have forgotten what she looked like at twenty-six. She’d barely aged; we didn’t even look very different now. She could have been my identical older sister.

  Besides, the look on her face sent a knife slicing through my heart. She was terrified to see me, worried I might ruin he
r perfect world. There was no love in those eyes. As badly as I wanted to lie to myself, to say she didn’t know who I was, that wasn’t true. She didn’t want to know me.

  She hadn’t left me and Dad by mistake. He hadn’t asked her to leave. She didn’t feel bad about abandoning us. She was doing fine, and had zero interest in reconnecting.

  Unable to move, I watched her and the man—her husband?? —walk away, leaving me behind. They hailed a taxi, and tears poured down my face. By the time I managed to regain control of myself, they were gone.

  Chapter 8

  For at least ten minutes, I sat there, clutching my now-empty water bottle in one hand, staring at the spot my mother had long since vacated. My chest hurt. I wanted to curl into a ball and lie there forever. But eventually, a store clerk who probably was still in high school told me I was blocking the make-up displays.

  With a mumbled apology, I staggered to my feet and out onto the sidewalk. My phone beeped with a text saying Cody had arrived at the bar. Uh-oh. I’d completely forgotten about meeting him. And now I would be showing up late. Not to mention traumatized.

  The last thing I wanted after being ignored by my mother was to go have drinks with Cody. My soul had been run over by a garbage truck and dragged for blocks. I never should’ve agreed to go with him in the first place. I should’ve gone out for post-gaming drinks with Holly. This very second, I’d be sipping my beer and making up fake names and histories for the other bar patrons. I wouldn’t have stopped at the drugstore, because we’d have gone to the hotel bar. I wouldn’t have seen my mother. I wouldn’t feel like someone stabbed me in the chest. And I wouldn’t be seriously considering standing Cody up.

  A glance at the selfie camera on my phone made me feel even worse. While my face was no longer tomato-red, tears streaked my cheeks. I looked more miserable than I felt. With zero interest in cleaning up. Drinks with Cody had been a mistake when I agreed to it, and showing up the way I felt would be an even bigger one.