18 Days

4. Day Four;; Poker Face

When Marc called me before work, he told me after his game they were getting together at his place. And, even though they were just his friends, I was slightly nervous. We weren’t dating, or anything, but these were the people he’d known longer than me, and had therefore grown into a relationship stronger than the one him and I had.

I worked until nine that night, but I was the closing manager there, at A&F, no less, so I wasn’t going to be out of there for a while. Unfortunately, money still hadn’t found a way to count itself yet.

My money, speaking of which, was still not adding up correctly. I was out twenty dollars. As I clawed my eyes out with a groan, my phone vibrated across the desk.

It’s really cold out here.

I sighed, deciding that I would just have to leave a note for Mary, the manager who would be opening the store tomorrow. I locked all the money in the safe, documented the money, and grabbed my stuff.

I locked the office door and made my way out of the back. I had turned a majority of the lights off in the store, but I had been working here for so long that I could easily navigate around the tables and other fixtures without running into anything.

My heels echoed in the quiet store, without the pounding music and constant chatter. It was almost eerie.

At the front of the store, I set the alarm and waited for it to kick in. Once it did, I hurried out the front doors; locking them behind me. Marc was there, waiting, like I had expected him to be.

I couldn’t help it – a smile broke out across my face at the sight of him. “Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” I breathed out.

He grinned at me, his hands shoved in his pockets. “So, let’s do this, shall we?”

I nodded, starting off towards his car. From behind me, I heard, “what, no hug?”

I turned around, grinning sardonically at him. “Are you sure Sam won’t try to kill me if I touch you?”

Marc rolled his eyes. “If she left me alone, I can’t say I’d be upset.”

Truth be told, Sam’s crush on Marc was a little cute. Even though she had glared at me, I couldn’t bring myself to be outright cruel to her. I walked right into the hug. “Marc, I have to tell you, I think you’re becoming addicted.”

He just smiled at me when I looked up at him. I tried to be serious, but that plan fell right through. “I wonder if we’ll ever be able to have a quickie.”

His hands slid down my arms as he let go. “Now let’s go. I don’t know about you, but New York needs me to be alive.”

In his car it was warmer, and as we waited in traffic (New York is always on), I found myself encompassed by the soothing heat and ready to fall asleep. Not long after, I felt a hand on my arm. I opened my eyes, my eyelids heavy as my vision cleared. We were no longer moving, and the car was no longer running. I looked over at Marc, who had a complacent look on his face. “Chels, do you just want me to take you home?”

I shook my head, yawning and arching my back in a stretch. “Nah – just give me some alcohol and I’ll be fine.”

“Chelsea, you aren’t legal.”

I mustered the most innocent smile I could, considering the fact that I had been asleep longer than I thought, and I was a little tired. “In Canada I am.”

“We’re in the States.”

I unbuckled my seatbelt and got out of the car. Marc followed my actions, and I waited for him on my side of the car before walking.

“You’re too much of a smart ass,” I declared, stepping delicately through the light snow in my heels.

Marc must’ve been watching me, because I heard him sigh. I stopped, picking my feet up individually and dusting the snow off. It was going to take me a while to get to his door at this rate. Marc must’ve also used his telekinetic powers just now, because before I could protest, he picked me up and carried me bridal style to his door. “I don’t know why you wear shoes like that in the winter.”

“If you drop me, I swear to God I’ll kill you,” I told him seriously, gripping onto his neck for dear life. I looked down at the ground as he walked, wondering if I was heavy.

“So this is what it’s like to be all the way up here.” I looked at Marc. “The altitude up here makes the wind cold.”

He responded with a roll of his eyes. He carefully placed me down at the door, before gesturing me inside first. I hadn’t expected there to be so many people at his place – I didn’t remember seeing cars. As I furrowed my eyebrows, I looked backwards, out the door and around Marc. Sure enough, there were cars lining the street outside his place. Huh. Would you look at that – I appear to be crazy.

Nonetheless, I shed my jacket and shoes. My bare feet connected with the cool tile in his place, but combined with the heat, it wasn’t a shock. I wandered into the living room, where the raucous laughter of guys became louder.

There was already a fair amount of alcohol consumed, which led me to believe that these guys had no qualms about getting drunk in a short amount of time. Sean Avery caught sight of me first. “Hey! Look who it is!” All the surrounding guys turned to look at me, and I curtsied politely with a wave of my hand. They toasted me with their respective beer bottles, to which I just smiled.

Marc and I settled in between a couple of the guys on one of the couches (I forced Marc to let me consume alcohol tonight), so I was hording a small bottle of Smirnoff Vodka. The taste was bittersweet in my mouth in the sense that as bad as it tasted, I kept drinking it, not because it tasted bitter. There was an intense competition of video games going on, before I got the great idea to yell “STRIP POKER!” loud enough to startle the people sitting closest to me.
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We had been playing for well over forty-five minutes, and I can’t say I knew what I was doing. “Go fish!” I proclaimed loudly.

Marc interjected, even though I hadn’t been speaking to him. “We’re playing poker.”

I turned my head to him. “Must you ruin this for me?”

He didn’t say anything. Dan Girardi decided to skip my turn, and told the table he was folding. “Hey!” I said, “It’s my turn.”

“Just fold, Chelsea.”

I glared at Marc. “What if I don’t want to fold?”

“Yeah Marc,” Sean sided with me, “she’s doing so well!” he added cheekily.

I turned my glare to him. In previous rounds I had lost my hoodie, pants, tongue ring and my earrings. I was still wearing my shirt, but clearly Sean was waiting for me to lose so I would take it off.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Dan subtly trying to get a look at my red lace boy shorts. I cleared my throat, hugging my cards to my chest. “Do you mind? I’m not a porno, Dan.”

He looked up at me sheepishly. “Sorry Chelsea.”

I accepted his apology and turned back to the group of us that was playing poker. “So I want to not fold.”

“Chelsea,” Marc asked warily, “do you know how to play poker?”

I kept my eyes glued to the cards fanned out in my hands. “No.”

“Then how the hell –” When he couldn’t verbalize what he was thinking, he put his head in the hand that he had propped up on the table. “Why did you suggest it then?”

I shrugged, looking up. “This is the only way I can take advantage of drunk men without being arrested.”

Sean winked at me. “I don’t need alcohol, sweetheart. It’d just be you, me, and the party in my pants.”

“If your lower half is anything like your upper half, I don’t want to be invited to the party.”

The guys surrounding me made various catcalls and mocked Sean for my obvious insult. Sean didn’t mind though. I didn’t miss the way Marc glared at him.

“Let’s see your cards,” Henrik Lundqvist put in, after we told us he was still in. I complied, lying my cards out flat on the table.

As soon as the guys caught sight of the five cards, they all began cursing and groaning about how the game was a load of shit. “What?” I asked curiously, looking around for someone to explain it to me.

“That’s a Royal Straight Flush,” Dan told me.

“Is that good?” I asked.

“Its that good?” A voice mimicked, “that’s the forth time she’s done that tonight!”

I grinned, only understanding the fact that I had won again. I pulled in all the chips to my chest. “Come on guys, strip!”

“I’ll tell you one thing,” Sean said as he flung his pants over his shoulder, “You’ve got one hell of a poker face, kid.”