Free Card Sharks by Liz Maverick Page B

the opening under thecabinets that went straight through to the living room, the look on his face careening from neutral to negative.
    â€œYou okay?” Bijoux asked.
    He came to with a start, as if he’d been far, far away, and put his beer down. “I’m brilliant,” he said, grabbing both sides of Bijoux’s head and planting a loud, obnoxious kiss on the top. “Are you?”
    â€œYeah.” She shrugged. “Same old, same old.”
    â€œYou’ll figure it out,” he said. “Now get out there and have some fun.”
    Bijoux moved into the living room, where everyone was assembling around an ugly black-lacquer table that just screamed, I am a bachelor.
    Marianne, Peter, and Donny she obviously knew. And of the five remaining men, two were a couple of Donny’s old pals she’d met before; two were guys of reasonable (if not inspiring) wealth whom she’d already flirted with before under other social circumstances and had established absolutely zero chemistry with; and the other was . . . well, physically out of the question.
    At least there was nothing to be nervous about. Bijoux checked her watch and sighed. It had seemed like a reasonable experiment at the time of conception, she supposed. But now she was stuck playing cards with a bunch of guys who clearly would have no influence on the solution to her financial and romantic predicament.
    She took a seat and looked at Marianne across the table. Marianne and Peter sat side by side, and to Bijoux’s sudden horror Marianne released a giggle and slapped Peter playfully on the hand.
    Bijoux looked over at Donny, who sat at the head of the table, his eyes narrowed and fixated on the very same scene.
    â€œOkay, so everyone has a drink? Oh, no. Wait. We’re missinga beer down there,” he said loudly. He got up, picked up a bottle of beer from the cooler on the floor at his left, and loudly slammed it down on the table between Marianne and Peter.
    The beer did its job, and the two of them separated. Donny hoisted his glass. “To . . . us. Drink up!”
    Much clinking and toasting ensued.
    â€œWell . . . let’s just deal the cards and begin.” Donny sat down and shuffled a deck of cards with an excess of flourish. He dealt two cards to each player and carefully tapped the remainder of the deck against the table. Bijoux looked at her cards. A ten of spades and a three of diamonds. She wasn’t exactly sure what they were playing or what she was supposed to do next, but it didn’t take a rocket scientist to tell her that this was not a good hand.
    She looked over her cards at Marianne, who stared back at her with furrowed brow. “So now what?” Marianne asked Donny.
    â€œSo now we show our cards. . . . Right, just lay them faceup on the table. . . . Okay, uh-huh, I see. . . .”
    Bijoux put her cards faceup along with everybody else. Marianne had only an eight and a three. So depending on what game they were playing, that probably meant that Bijoux was . . . safe. Or whatever.
    â€œWhat are we playing?” Marianne asked, as if she were reading Bijoux’s mind.
    Donny didn’t answer. None of the guys did. He just looked over all of the cards around the table, then leaned back in his chair and unveiled a slow killer smile. “Well, Marianne, that’s you. You’ve got the worst hand. So you’re going to have to take something off.”
    Bijoux whipped her head around and looked at Donny, then looked over at Marianne.
    There was a palpable silence. Finally Marianne said the only thing she could say: “Um, what?”
    â€œWorst hand strips,” he said, lifting his shoulders in a helpless gesture, then folding his arms over his chest.
    Bijoux and Marianne looked at each other once more and then looked around the table at the men. They all wore . . . expectant looks on their