HARDCORE: Storm MC(162)

“Just watch,” she murmured. “She’s won every hand.”



“What?” I had to admit, I was intrigued.



“She bluffs like nobody I’ve ever seen.” She giggled.



I turned my attention to the group around the table. Gigi sat alone on one side, the others on the other sides. She held her cards close to her chest so nobody could see them.



They were playing with pretzel sticks, and damned if she didn’t have a bigger pile than anybody else. They had to be underestimating her—I could’ve told them she was a genius. I had already considered having her tested for it, and was thinking about broaching the subject with Rae.



Gigi threw three sticks into the center of the table to ante up. The rest followed suit. It was her turn again. She peeked at her cards, then threw another three sticks into the pot. The rest of the room murmured. I bit back a laugh.



The man to her left tapped his cards on the table. “I’ll see your three and raise two,” he said. Another murmur.



Gigi looked unimpressed, only turning to the man across from her. He glanced from Gigi to the second player, and folded immediately to a chorus of laughter. Gigi’s eyes shifted to the man to her right.



“I’ll see that five,” he said, adding his sticks to the pot. He was the dealer, so he asked how many cards everybody needed.



Gigi took another peek. “I’m fine,” she said. Another round of murmurs, and some laughter. She was cool as anything, that kid.



The man to her left took two cards. The dealer took three.



It was Gigi’s turn again. “I’ll see your five, and raise you five.” My eyes flew open wide. She had guts. I heard Erica giggle.



The man to Gigi’s left tapped his cards to the table again. “Too rich for my blood,” he decided, folding.



Gigi looked unimpressed, swinging her eyes around to the only other remaining player. He studied her, eyes narrowed. I could tell he was trying hard not to laugh.



“Okay. I’ll see your ten.”



“Are you sure about that?” The room went quiet. Gigi glanced at her cards, still tight against her chest. She looked pointedly at the other player’s sticks, which were dwindling rapidly.



“I’m pretty sure, yeah.” He smiled at her.



“Okay. I don’t want you to lose all your sticks is all. Then you can’t play anymore.” She was so innocent, so wide-eyed. “It’s fun to play with you.”



He smiled again. “Your hand is that good, huh?”



She shrugged. “Maybe.”



I put my hand over my mouth to keep from laughing out loud.



“Hmm. If I fold, I’ll still be able to play. If I don’t, I might lose.”



“That’s right.”



He squinted at her, trying to size her up. “I’ve seen you bluffing all night. How do I know you’re not bluffing right now?”



“Maybe I am. Maybe I’m not.” She shrugged. The room was so quiet, I was sure I could’ve heard a pin drop. I held my breath, as I was pretty sure everybody else was. I watched the other player, and the way he stared at her. Her face was totally blank, except for a tiny little smile.



He nodded decisively, making up his mind. “I don’t believe you.” He put in ten sticks. “Call.”



Gigi spread her cards out before her. I craned my neck to see. Three tens, two fives. A full house.



“Damn it!” The other player laid down two pairs. The room went wild, everybody cheering Gigi, chanting her name. She beamed with delight, pulling the pot of pretzel sticks toward herself.



I wanted to be annoyed, but I couldn’t. It was too funny, watching her wipe the floor with these seasoned players. I did let her know I was watching, though, catching her eye from across the room. She waved.



“You wanna play, Jamie?”



“No, thanks.” Everybody laughed. “Besides, it’s getting late for you, isn’t it? Almost ten o’clock.”



Gigi frowned but got up from her seat. Everybody wished her a good night, and I took her upstairs to get her ready for bed.



“Who taught you to play cards?” I murmured as we climbed the stairs.



“One of mommy’s friends taught me a long time ago,” she said. “And I used to have a poker game, too. Like a battery game.” I remembered her bringing it in for show-and-tell once.



“But you didn’t tell them you knew?”



“Nah.” She looked up at me. “Was that wrong?”



“Not technically, no. That means you’re a card shark.”



“What’s that mean?”