Free Gettin' Lucky by Micol Ostow Page A

deceiving him, sure—he was such a great, understanding dad—but at the same time, I was feeling cheerier lately than I’d been feeling in weeks. I rationalized the dishonesty to myself by clinging to the idea that it was for the greater good. My theory seemed all the more plausible when I found a penny faceup in the parking lot of the Venetian. I mean, that’s always a good sign. I’m a huge believer in the lucky penny.
    “I brought the guacamole,” I said, holding a huge Tupperware container out asKelly pulled her front door open. It was my specialty, one of my only culinary talents.
    “Great,” she said, eyeing the monstrous batch. “That’ll come in handy if there’s, like, a flood or whatever and we’re forced to hole up underground for a week or so.”
    “Oh, it’ll never keep that long,” I teased, waving my hand in her face.
    I was the last to arrive, and I couldn’t help but note that I felt much more comfortable walking into the living room, where everyone was gathered, than I had at my first poker game. I guess it helped to have spent time outside of school with Elliot—I was starting to slide him firmly into the “friend” category. He offered me a shy wave as I placed the guac on the coffee table and broke out a bag of chips to go with.
    “Homemade?” james asked, looking dubious.
    “It’s the only thing I know how to make—other than microwave popcorn, and even that’s touch and go—but trust me, I make it well,” I assured him.
    “She’s not lying,” Andy shrieked enthusiastically, shoveling the dip into her mouth slightly maniacally.
    “Can I get you something to drink? ADiet Coke?” Kelly offered, dropping a can neatly next to me on the table before I could even answer her.
    “Have you been practicing?” marcus asked me, manhandling the deck of cards as his lips curled into a smarmy smile. I couldn’t quite pinpoint it, but for some reason, there was always something smarmy about Marcus. He was even less appealing to me with Dorito-breath, a condition with which he was currently afflicted.
    I glanced at Elliot, who briefly made eye contact but quickly looked away from me. “Yup,” I said. “A little bit.”
    “Awesome,” Kelly said, settling into her seat and sliding the dealer button in front of her. “Then I guess we can get started.” Marcus dutifully slid the deck over to her.
    It was like the World Series of Poker. Or, at least, in my mind it was. It was a good hour before anyone folded for real. James moved all-in on a semi-bluff straight draw with an ace and a ten after a kingqueen-queen flop. Marcus called quickly with an ace and a king, and took the pot with a pair of kings when two blanks fell on the turn and the river. James was a decent sport about it, though. Probably because atthat point he was only down thirty bucks. This was my kind of crowd—they knew how to cut their losses.
    A short time later, Andy was low on chips and moved all-in with a suited ace and a seven. Marcus was holding an ace and a king and was only too thrilled to call. Marcus may have been a good poker player, but he was kind of a slimeball, I was starting to realize. And the Dorito-breath was in full force. The flop came ace-king-nine, Marcus’s two-pair held up, and Andy went out. She was slightly less gracious about it than James had been, but we managed to placate her with a healthy dose of guacamole.
    Kelly hoped to get head-up against Marcus—I think mainly because his cackling was starting to seriously creep her out—but drew to a disadvantage when her turn at being dealer was over. After that, her confidence was shot. She was out of the game, but offered to deal for the rest of us.
    Suddenly, our game had been reduced by half. And I was one of the three left standing (or, um, sitting). I couldn’t believe it. I looked around the table. Elliot’s face was impassive. Marcus lookedextremely pleased with himself. The moment was tense.
    Kelly slapped two cards down in front