Chills race up and down my spine. Something isn’t right. There is something that Phoenix didn’t tell us, but I’m clueless. It feels like we’ve just walked into a trap.
Langston notices and stands a little in front of me, letting anyone in the room know they will have to go through him before they get to me. He’d take a bullet for me, not that I’d let him.
The host walks to the front of the room and begins explaining the rules.
“Welcome, gentlemen and Mrs. Pearce. Thank you all for coming. You all know what is at stake. Now for the rules of the game. They are quite simple. You will all be randomly seated at a table, and cards will be distributed to you, each containing a different…dares, shall we call them? Every dare has a point value, based on the card. Each round you will bet which dare, or combination of dares, you are willing to do. The highest bets stay in the game. The lowest bet must do their wagered dare, or dares, to stay in the game.
“Each round, you will have an opportunity to trade in your cards to be dealt new ones. You can trade in all or none of your cards, and you’ll be dealt any additional cards to ensure you always have five cards in your hand. Once a winner has been declared at each table, the final round, or rounds, will decide our winner from the group of table winners. There will be a dealer at each table if you have any questions.”
There are some murmurs, snide remarks, and grins from the men in the crowd. All of them stare at me like I’m a piece of meat to devour.
“I won’t let anyone hurt you,” Langston whispers.
“The only way to ensure that is if I quit right now.”
“You should; I’ve got this.”
“No, I’ll play. We both stay, we double our chances.”
“But—”
“I’m staying.”
Names are called out as men are assigned different tables.
Then my name is announced; I’m at table two. I just have to figure out how to walk over there without Langston to lean on.
My legs shake as I attempt to strut with everyone’s eyes on me, looking at me like I don’t belong. I regret the stilettos with every step. One wrong step, and I’m going to fall and lose the game before it even starts.
Somehow I make it to my chair. I feel Langston from across the room. Unlike the last game we played, he’s going to be more protective of me. He’s going to have limits of what he can watch me endure. I just hope we get to Rose before that happens.
More names are called, and the rest of the men take their seats. Langston ends up at the table nearest to mine. It’s nice to feel like he’s a partner in the game this time, but I don’t know how much good it’s going to do.
Four men are eventually sitting at the table with me. All of their eyes are locked on me. I’m the outcast, and they are happy to destroy me. I really wish I knew why I was the only woman here.
I study my opponents as the dealers begin making their way to the tables. To my immediate left is a middle-aged man that must be a cowboy in a former life. He’s decked out in boots, a cowboy hat, and handlebar mustache.
Next is a dark-haired man with slicked-back hair, a too-tight suit, and brown eyes. He’s around my age and is wearing a wedding ring.
The third man is wearing a tux, but it does little to cover his rough exterior. Tattoos peek out around his wrists and neck. He has a nasty scar under his right eye that didn’t heal properly.
My fourth table-mate is an older gentleman. What’s left of his hair is graying around the bald spot on his head. He wears an expensive, ill-fitting tux that screams wealth.
“Good evening, gentleman and ma’am. I’ll be your dealer for tonight. If anyone has any questions about how the game is played, then please let me know. Otherwise, let’s begin,” he says, shuffling what looks like an ordinary deck of cards. He looks around at the five of us, waiting to see if anyone speaks up. When no one does, he begins to deal us each five cards.
A couple of the men pick up the cards as they are dealt one by one and begin studying them. Me and the older man to my right wait until all the cards are dealt before picking up our hand.
“Point values are one for an ace all the way up to thirteen for a king. You can bet up to the full value in your hand or as little as one card. Remember, if you’re the lowest bet, you have to do whatever you bet, so don’t bet something you aren’t willing to do. The deck is a standard 52 card deck, just with dares written on them. Take a moment to study your cards and decide your bet.”
I look at my cards. I have two aces, a three, a seven, and a ten.
The aces are easy tasks. The three isn’t bad. The seven starts to hurt. The ten I don’t even want to think about. I don’t want to know what’s on a king.
“Mr. Wilson, you may start the bidding. The bidding will continue around until no one wants to bid any higher,” our dealer says.
“Five,” the cowboy, Mr. Wilson says.
“Seven,” I say.
“Ten,” the slick suit says.
“Ten,” the tattooed man says.
“Thirteen,” the older gentleman says.
“Eighteen,” the cowboy says.
Shit.
“Twelve,” I say, hoping that I won’t have to play my ten and that someone else bids lower.
“Twenty-four,” the slick suit says.
“Thirty,” the tattooed man says.
“Twenty-five,” the older gentleman says.
All eyes fall to me.
Shit.
“Mrs. Pearce, would you like to bid higher? If not, bidding is closed and you lose this round,” the dealer says.
There is no point bidding higher. Even if I played all of my cards, it would still only be twenty-two, two lower than the next lowest bid.
I shake my head.
“If everyone would please lay down the cards they bid face down so I can check your bids,” the dealer says.
Everyone places their bid cards face down, and he collects them one by one, ensuring the bet that was placed was in fact in their hands.
When the dealer collects my cards, he takes his time reading each of the tasks. He whispers into a microphone and then looks back at the table.
“To continue playing Mrs. Pearce, you owe a drop of blood, a kiss from a stranger, the removal of one item of clothing, and one lash of a whip. Are you willing to pay your debts?”
“Yes,” I say, confidently. I didn’t bet anything that I wouldn’t be willing to do to get my child back. I would have bet everything I had every time if I had good enough cards.
He nods.
A woman in a slinky black dress walks over, carrying a tray of items stands behind the dealer. “The winner of the round gets to decide if he wants to inflict the debt.” He motions behind him. “Or if Miss Kiff here will be inflicting the debt. Mr. Mullock, which will it be?” the dealer asks the tattooed man.
“I would love the pleasure,” he says.
“Mr. Mullock and Mrs. Pearce, if you would follow Miss Kiff please,” the dealer says.
I stand shakily on my feet. My head spins, and my stomach heaves, wanting to vomit, but not because of this stupid game. The men are going to try and gang up on me, but I have no doubt that I’ll win.
We follow Miss Kiff to one side of the room, where I realize there is a small stage. This is part of the game—the show. I’m sure there are plenty of rich people watching our humiliation. There are people standing in line to the stage from each table. Langston isn’t among them. I look back and find him sitting at the table, staring at me wide-eyed. The vein on his head is throbbing, and his eyes rage with pain.