“So what you’re saying is that I’m like Sparky?”
I laugh a little, forgoing playing with my food on my plate and taking a drink instead. “Sparky is fluffier than you. I think I like him more.”
“Hey, I’ve put on a few pounds. I might be fighting Sparky for that fluffy title here pretty soon.”
He doesn’t look like he’s put on even a single ounce. In fact, he looks like he’s lost weight – especially in his face. It’s then that I take a closer look at him – the bags under his eyes, the tired expression behind his smile. Maybe this hasn’t been as easy for him as I thought.
“Skyler, I need to talk to you.”
I close my eyes, setting my drink on the table. “Please don’t do this, Kip. Not before tomorrow.”
“It’s not about us,” he clarifies, but then he bites the inside of his lip a little. “Well, not entirely. I just need you to know something before tomorrow, before we start this tournament. I want you to understand.”
Pulling the glass to my lips, I drain the rest of my whiskey and cross my arms on the table, bracing for impact. I have no idea what he could possibly say to make me understand why he’s here, why he’s doing this to me. But, I remember running to him on our cruise, desperate to make him understand the whole Erin situation when I knew I didn’t even deserve him listening to a word I said.
I owe him the same courtesy.
“Skyler,” he starts, and the way he says my name is almost too much. It’s almost enough for me to get up and walk out. “I did come to Palm South to seek you out. My dad has been watching you play for years and when he found out you were entering this tournament, or well, rumored to be, anyway – he made me a deal. If I came to this school and got close enough to you to learn how to take you down at this tournament, he would pay for me to go to my dream school – UCLA.” He pauses, probably reading the confusion on my face. “Please don’t take it personally. My dad doesn’t have a vendetta against you or anything, it’s just that he thinks you’re the best in the game right now. And you’re also one of the youngest. I don’t know, I guess he felt like if everything he’s taught me about the game could help me beat you or at least keep up and compete, he would be ‘beating the best’, in a way. He even made that crazy fucking file that you found.” He runs his fingers through his hair, but keeps going. “It’s like he’s living through me. And I didn’t understand that before, not for a long time. But I get it now.”
He shakes his head, almost as if he’s jumping to something too quickly – something he’s not ready to say yet. “Anyway, I’ve been going to community college the past couple of years because I couldn’t afford anything else without my dad’s help. And I know there are loans and I could work but to be honest, I just didn’t think it through. I was lazy, I was selfish, and I wanted my father’s help. So when he offered it, I jumped on the chance.”
I inhale a deep breath and lift my glass, trying to suck the remaining whiskey from the ice cubes. Kip pauses for a moment, his attention falling to my mouth as I swirl the cube around inside. A surge runs straight through me when I realize why he’s distracted. And no matter how much I try not to like it, I love the power I still have over him.
So I grab another cube.
But he continues. “When I met you that night at rush, I didn’t know who you were. You have to know that. I found out that night when I went back to my apartment. That first night between us was all us – you didn’t know about Erin, I didn’t know about you – it was just us and the way we felt together. When I did find out it was you my dad had sent me to Palm South for, I almost called it off then. I fell for you that first night, Skyler. The first time my eyes found yours. When you called me a nerd and said I looked like a Matthew.” He laughs a little and I do, too. “You had me. Right then.”
We both sit silent for just a second, just a split second after that laugh before he takes a breath and continues. “But it’s my dad, and this was his deal. For a while, I let that drive me. Then, when I was close to calling everything off because I was starting to fall for you, you ended it at the dance. And then I was more determined than ever to take you down. But then things changed again and fuck.” He runs his hands through his hair again and lets out a puff of air. “Everything was just such a mess, Skyler. My head was fucked up. But I tried calling my dad to tell him the deal was off before the cruise.”
I sit up a little straighter at his words. “You did?”
He nods. “Yes. But, he didn’t answer, and I should have known then that something was wrong.” Kip swallows hard and his eyes grow darker. “But I called him as soon as we got off the boat, Skyler. And my mom answered. And once again, when I thought I was done with his game, shit got more complicated.”
I inhale, waiting for him to continue. Something tells me what he’s about to say is difficult for him, so I give him the time he needs to gather the words.
“My dad is sick, Skyler.” He chokes on the words a little, his façade breaking. “He has lung cancer. And he’s not going to live much longer.”
Tears immediately sting the backs of my eyes, but I hold them back, because this isn’t my time to cry. This is my time to listen and be there for Kip, even if I’m not sure I can be.
His dad is sick.
And now, suddenly, everything between us seems so small.
“Oh my God, Kip.” I shake my head, reaching out to grab his hand in mine. He flinches at first, but then he takes mine in his and squeezes like it’s the last thing in life he has to hold on to. “I’m so sorry. I’m such a bitch. God, I’m sorry.”
He shakes his head. “No, you’re not. I didn’t tell you. I was going to that night at formal, but you weren’t exactly in the best state.” He eyes me for a second and I blush, looking down at the table. I made an ass of myself that night and I know it.
“I know this doesn’t change anything between us. I know I still betrayed you, lied to you, earned your trust when I didn’t deserve it. I know that. But, I wanted you to understand. I needed you to be able to look at me from across the table tomorrow and know that I’m here for my dad, not because I don’t love you. Because I do. I love you, Skyler.”
He pulls me across the table and our lips meet in the middle, his hands moving to either side of my face. I let him kiss me and I kiss him back, but my heart is still torn. I still don’t know what to believe. I don’t know what was real between us and what was an act. I’m still broken.
When he pulls back, he runs the pad of his thumb over my cheek once before dropping his hands. We both stand there for a moment, and I know this very well could be the last time I stand this close to him. We’ll be at the tournament together, but there’s no telling if either of us will even make it far enough to sit at the same table together. And after this, he’ll be gone from Palm South.
From me.
“Is your dad here?”
He hangs his head. “He can’t travel right now. He’s watching from home.”
A pain shoots through my heart and I bite my lips together. “I’m sure he’s proud of you.”
Kip nods, trying to smile but failing. Finally, he looks up at me once more, his diamond blue eyes glimmering in the soft light. “For the record, I hope you win tomorrow.” I cock my brow and he leans in, kissing my forehead. “I want to win for my dad, yes. But, more than anything, I want to see you happy. And if that means you kick my ass tomorrow, then so be it.”
My skin stings from where his lips touched my head, and my fingers move to the spot as he reaches into his pocket, pulling out a long, slender case. He hands it to me and I know what it is without even opening it.
“Good luck, number four.”
He winks before turning and walking away. I watch as he walks across the room until he disappears behind the doors and I lose sight of him. Then I grab what was left of his drink and down it, open the case, and try not to show any emotion.
Inside are the same glasses he got me before, though I know he smashed that pair, so this i
s a new one. On the top left of the left lens, there are four gold dots, just like my freckle tattoo. I swallow hard, closing the case again before sitting back in my chair.
For some reason, I find myself wondering if Kip has a tell. What is the sign that he’s bluffing? I can always spot it. Always. I can read every single person. But not him. Why? Why when he tells me he loves me, why do I think that it’s true? Yet, there’s still something warning me that maybe, just maybe, he’s bluffing.
But what could his tell be?
Is it the way he kisses me? The way he runs his hands through my hair? The way his eyes shift from dark blue to sky blue? The way he smiles when I touch him? What is it that will give me the true answer?
I need another drink.
I head back to my room not too long after that, exhausted from our conversation. My heart and soul aches for him and what he’s going through. I can’t imagine losing either one of my parents, and knowing what a big part his dad played in his life, I know this isn’t easy for him.
As if I’m a glutton for punishment, I pull his oversized black t-shirt from my bag and slip it over my head, taking everything else off. I don’t know why I packed this, why I kept it after all this time, but there’s something about it that brings me comfort.
Wrapping up in the covers of the bed, I pull the shirt to my nose and inhale his scent, closing my eyes as tears start to gather again. I hate crying, and I hate crying over him more than anything else.
I don’t know what to think. I don’t know what to feel. He told me he loved me tonight and I believe him, I just don’t know what that means. I understand why he’s in the tournament still, but how do I know what was real between us and what wasn’t? Does he really love me, or did he just get caught up in his game?
As I drift off to sleep, I think about love. Love is like the wind, someone once told me, because it’s felt and not seen. But I think you actually can see it. You see love just the same way that you see the wind – by the way it moves other things. Love has moved me, it’s changed me, and I can see it more clearly than the sun in the sky. Clearly, love has moved Kip, too.
The question is, will love move us together, or sweep us apart?
If I do one more push-up, I’m not going to be able to hold the cards today, but my dad is going to call any second now and I just need something to get my mind off what to say to him when he does.
It’s the first day of the tournament.
Holy shit.
I never actually thought this day would come. This is the biggest tournament I’ve ever played and to everyone else here, to all the big shots, I’m just a fish. They’re not going to give me a second look and they shouldn’t, but somehow I have to prove them all wrong. I have to follow my gut, my training, and my intuition and I have to make it through today. More than that, I have to make it through tomorrow and then win.
No pressure.
For some reason, I thought telling Skyler about my dad would make me feel better. It turns out that unless me telling her ended with her back in my arms, it doesn’t really make much of a damn difference. I didn’t expect her to just forgive me and go back to normal, I knew it wouldn’t happen like that, but I guess there was still a bigger part of me that wished it would. Sitting across the table from her last night and not touching her made me physically ache – more than these push-ups, more than the stress from my training, more than anything I’ve ever experienced before. I just wanted to pull her into me. I wanted to take her back to my room. Instead, I “slept” alone, if you consider staring at the ceiling all night and tossing in the sheets sleeping, that is.
I drop to the floor after the one-hundredth push-up and just as I land, my phone rings, making my stomach fall even further – like it collapsed through the floor and landed somewhere on the Vegas Strip.
Rolling over onto my back, I reach for my phone and answer, holding it just a few centimeters away from my sweaty ear. “Are push-ups a good pre-tournament ritual?”
My dad laughs a little before coughing, which makes me pissed at myself for making him laugh at all. When the fit is over, he clears his throat. “I used to do crunches. Looks like we both need physical distraction when our mentality is involved in something high stakes.” He pauses for a moment and I smile, thinking of my dad in his youth. He joined the service at eighteen, and I can imagine him just a little younger than me now, doing crunches on the floor of his old house before heading to the underground poker tournaments he used to hit. He used to look just like me, or I guess I look just like him. Either way, we have more in common than I realize, sometimes. “Are you ready for this, Son?”
I let out a shaky breath, standing up and heading toward the bathroom. “As ready as I can be at this point.”
“Well, what matters is that you give it hell. Don’t let anything or anyone run you off a table. Keep your head on straight and evaluate every hand before making a move. Learn the players at your table and learn their moves, figure out their tells. You know how to do it. I know you’ll be fine. Odds are you won’t even be at the same table as Skyler today, but on the off chance you are, you know her best. Show her you came to play.”
Starting the shower, I pull off my shirt and throw it on the floor, putting my phone on speaker and leaning against the bathroom counter. I’m staring at myself, but I don’t see the same man who stared back at me just two short months ago. Everything about me, about my life, has changed. “I want this, Dad,” I say, the steam from the shower starting to gather. “I want to do this for you. I know we don’t talk about this kind of emotional shit but I love you, Dad.” I choke on that last bit, tearing my eyes away from the mirror long enough to get myself under control. “And I know this is important to you. I just want you to know that it’s important to me, too, because you’re important to me. We don’t always see eye to eye on things and maybe I didn’t turn out the way you wanted me to, but –”
“Kip, stop,” he says, his voice surprisingly loud. “Damn it, you would think you’re the piece of shit father in this scenario.” He takes a few moments before continuing. “You never disappointed me, Son. You are everything I could have asked for in a kid and I’m sorry I ever made you feel otherwise. I pushed you, yes, and maybe sometimes too hard, but that’s the only way I knew how to. And I know you made a lot of sacrifices to do this for me. Please don’t think I don’t know that.” My mind immediately flicks to Skyler and I wince. “I love you, Oliver Kip Jackson. And whether you win this tournament or not, that will still be true. And when I’m gone…” He pauses and tears threaten to spill from my eyes, stinging and blurring the already foggy version of my mirror self as a tight pain radiates through my chest. “You are going to tell yourself every day that your dad loved you. And he was so, so damn proud of you.”
I nod even though he can’t see me because I need to move, I need to do something to hold it together. “I’ll call you when things are squared away,” I say, smiling against the fact that I really shouldn’t be right now. But I feel Dad smile on the other end, too.
“Carry on, soldier.”
“I love you, Dad.”
“I love you, Son.”
“Dad?” I say quickly, hoping I catch him.
“Yes, Son?”
I pause, not sure if I’m ready to tell him, but I know I need to. I want him to understand what I’m doing for him, how much he means to me. “I’m in love with Skyler.”
There’s a short pause on his end, but then he clears his throat. “I know, Son. I’ve known for a while.”
Swallowing, I nod again. “Okay.”
“Do you still want to do this?”
That’s a fucking question if I’ve ever heard one.
No.
No I don’t want to do this. But then again, yes, for him – I do. I know how much this meant to him before he became ill, how much it still does now. “Yes. I want to do it for you, Dad.”
He’s quiet for a moment, but finally speaks again. “When this is over, make her understand. I
f she loves you like you do her, she will let you explain.”
“Okay, Dad,” I say, still nodding.
“Okay. Good luck today.”
Ending the call, I throw myself into the shower without even taking off the rest of my clothes and turn the water up as much as I can stand, letting it scald my skin and turn it red with anger because that’s what I feel. I’m sad and I’m hurt and I’m fucking angry. My dad doesn’t deserve to go through this shit and it kills me that he has to. And I already did explain everything to Skyler, but I don’t know if it’s enough. I don’t know if anything I ever say or do after this tournament will ever be enough.
Five months ago, my dreams were so simple. Go to UCLA, intern with one of the top television networks, write for an amazing show, graduate, and one day write shows of my own. It was so easy, then. I had a clear cut, shiny view of life. Now, I’m looking through a distorted kaleidoscope, trying desperately to make out the bigger picture that all these damn jagged pieces somehow form.
Sighing, I focus on my breaths until I’m breathing somewhat normally. I have to rein it in.
Focus, Kip. Focus.
It’s day one of the tournament, and as much as I want to dwell on what my dreams mean to me now, they’ll have to wait. It’s the moment I’ve prepped for and I can’t screw this up. Game face on, no time for mistakes. All or nothing.
And I’m ready to give my all.
There’s something about a poker tournament, or just a poker game, really, that gets my blood pumping. It’s so fucking exciting. You sit down at your first table and at first, everything is slow, but the next thing you know you’re three tables down and wondering how that many hours flew by so quickly. The smoke clouds your vision, the lights and bells of the casino ring in your ears, and yet you’re completely alone – completely zeroed in.
This is a freezeout style tournament, which means no re-buys, no second chances – if you get knocked out, you’re out. Somehow, I’ve made it through the first day, and I feel like I should drop to my knees and pray for tomorrow because today was fucking tough. There were a few times where I was barely holding on and I had to make some risky bluffs to pull it back, but I hung in. And as much as I’m excited to be through to day two, I almost wish someone would have put me out of my misery today.
Black Number Four Page 30
