Bluffing the Devil

chapter 5



Shaking my mini-adventure was nearly impossible. I felt happy, sad, crazy, scared, and so many emotions all at once that I started to realize that I was probably psychotic. Who has dreams vivid enough that when they wake up, their lips are swollen and tender and their skin is warm to the touch as if fire and hot-piece-of-man-meat was pressed against them like a second skin? I mean, really? I should really look into therapy when I get home. This is ridiculous.

I shook my head and attempted to loosen the weirdness going on in my head and failed miserably. I stayed in my cozy hotel bed for as long as my mind would allow me to, which totaled about eleven minutes. More than double the time I had with Devin. Devin. Oh, now I had a name and a face to put to the emotional, and physical response I was having. Nice! That, however, was not a comfort when I was already missing him. So strange. I had truly sworn off men since Jamison's passing and had no real interest anymore in even wanting to look at men, much less roll around nearly (or completely!) naked with a total stranger!

My spontaneous and rebellious sides wanted to give me credit for finally doing something wild and crazy for a change. I had always been the girl that followed the rules and acted appropriately in nearly every situation. I rarely got into trouble when I was younger because I was always so busy with my extracurricular activities, that I didn’t allow "free time" to just be young and stupid. I was always more focused on learning new things, reaching new heights, achieving goals, and being better every day. I was the classic over-achiever in every aspect.

The other thing that kept me on an even path was Jamison. I met him when we were just children. Even at 13 years old, I knew he was going to be an important part of my life. Inseparable for nearly every moment of our childhood, we shared everything from bumps and bruises to family dramas, hospital visits, and our biggest life events, like getting scholarships, and deciding if we would be organ donors or not. We celebrated with and comforted each other through it all. We were the best of friends and just somehow knew that we were made for each other from day one.

Deciding to be a couple was as simple as choosing what shoes to wear to do yard work. You know that one pair you have that you use all the time for dirty jobs? The ones that don't matter if you step in mud, blood, or anything else They are your solid, good, sturdy, reliable shoe that keeps you safe and cozy? Yeah, that was Jamison for me. He was there when I needed him and I never questioned if we could make it through anything. I just knew. Even when I was sad, pathetic, or any of the other things I was known to be, he was by my side for all of it. My easiest choice, and favorite comfort in all the world.

Due to always having over-protective parents and an incredible partner-in-crime, I had never been the confrontational or abrasive ballsy type before. I was always the fun, tomboyish girl, even if a bit reserved and quiet around new people. My friends always said that it was always so nice to hang out with me because they would never have to worry about ending up going shopping, talking about boy bands, or anything like that with me. In fact, usually the most we would get ourselves into would be exploring the woods behind my house, playing video games, watching movies, and generally being silly.

Jamison and I being attached at the hip sort of meant that if you had one as a friend, you automatically had the other. We were called all sorts of things over the years like "Perfect Pair" or something equally silly, but we didn't have to have some crazy nickname to know we were the best when together. It was just as natural, as breathing. Like peanut butter and jelly, sunshine and rainbows, or Jamison and Alexia. Our life together was simple, sweet, goofy, and perfect.

Once, when we were in high school, a call came across that loud speaker to call me to the office. I was panicking and worried that something was wrong so I ran to the office like my life depended on it. When I walked in, he was standing there with flowers, a teddy bear, and an adorable grin. I asked what the fuss was all about as it was weeks until Valentine's Day and I saw no reason for the gifts. He simply said that it was his plan to start early to make sure that I was his Valentine, and that it was never too early or too late to woo his lady. He was always making sure that I knew he cared for me.

When Jamison was taken from me, I closed myself off to everything and everyone for a while. It was as if I didn't know how to speak or feel without him. I didn't want to talk to anyone, much less eat or think. Everyone was so sympathetic and concerned for me every day. All I wanted was to be alone to grieve, and figure out my next move in life. The life we had been planning and building together for the last decade was suddenly impossible, and I needed to either make a new plan or give up in life; and I am just not the giving up type.

I don't remember crying. I know I felt every other stage of grieving but the tears never came. Am I so broken that I couldn't even shed a tear for the love of my life? Or did his death just completely break my spirit. Steal my ability to feel anything anymore?

I quit my job at the crime lab that I had been working for and immediately immersed myself into the world of professional poker. Why poker? I'm not even sure. I had always loved the game and was good at it. My father taught me when I was very young how to protect my emotions and keep them "close to the vest." He showed me the game and said that mastering it would help me through life. Maybe he was more right than I ever realized.

No one in our neck of the woods was able to best me in a game of poker. Perhaps I chose it because you’re just you in the game. No need to speak, look at anyone except to pick apart their tiny actions, or do anything other than concentrate on what cards you have in your hand. How much money you have to play with, then bide your time until the exact right moment you find to evaluate someone else's weakness and pounce on ‘em. Maybe I wanted to finally have some power at something, or be able to take control. Maybe I’m just hiding from everything I once knew in search of my rightful place? It’s obviously not with Jamison. Without him, I’m just a lost soul.

I glanced at the clock again and realized I still had over two hours until my first poker game was to start. My musings had taken up more time than I wanted to allow them. I had been awake a mere twenty minutes, now four times longer than I had with Devin, also known as the shortest five minutes of my life. Was I always going to measure things in Time-With-Devin o'clock?

Though staying rolled up in the cushy bed sounded like a fantastic idea, I decided some dinner and a walk might cheer me up. I could grab a sandwich and head to the boardwalk for some nice musing time with the ocean and really calm my mind, before I had to go hide under my hoodie and plot the assassination of everyone else at the table. I had not been playing professionally for very long, but what I lacked in experience, I made up for in skill, patience, and a keen eye for changes in behavior. I'm sure my family would be so proud - I took my expensive diploma in extensive knowledge of the human psyche, and turned it into a social psychological experiment. It was my advantage to gamble away my life savings. Or at least, that's how my father viewed my "job."

Deciding that food and a walk, was truly the better option over agonizing over how much of a failure I had become to my entire family, I decided to pull myself up and find suitable clothing for the night. Padding across the lush carpeting, I glanced out of the window just in time to see a flash of something that looked like a large bird going past the window. Weird. My room was pretty high up. That bird must have really wanted whatever it was after this far up to work so hard. Or am I seeing things? Figures. I was starting to believe I had truly lost my mind.

I shook my head and went for the closet to my meager collection of outfits hanging limply on the hangers. I really need to get some new clothes, but that would require shopping and caring, something I didn't have time for, or want either of those right now. Something in the closet currently would have to do. After looking at each thing at least three times, I just settled on the comfiest thing I brought with me - jeans.

I didn't need to make an impression at the tables for tonight's game, so why bother? Jeans, my favorite t-shirt and my rainbow hoodie would do the trick. A hoodie is one of the things in a poker player's bag of tricks that can save them a lot of money and headaches. If someone gets too into the game, wants to hide from others, or simply just wants some privacy, the hood comes up and bam, you are in your own little world. I'd rather be in my own little world with cards in my hand, than anywhere else though. So my hoodie always came with me wherever I went. The rainbow pattern was my signature, and some of my rivals had even taken to calling me Rainbow Tight. Showing my hoodie of choice, and my form of play. Morons. What they call playing "tight," I call playing smart. I love when my victims don't even see me plotting their demise.