“But there’s girls,” Tyler says. “Lots of girls who want to be with someone on the council. Even little Jimmy’s getting some of our leftovers.”
“Don’t listen to them,” Ali says as she slides her shot over to Ben. “It’s for the town. There’s always been a council. Always will be. It’s tradition. Loyalty, family, community.”
“And don’t forget football.” Ben raises his glass.
“Amen to that.” Tyler squares his shoulders.
“And God,” I add.
The room goes deathly still.
“Sure.” Tyler closes the distance between us. “None of this would even be possible without God.” He raises his hands as if in fake praise.
Jimmy snickers, but the rest of them stand perfectly still, staring at me, like I just walked in on some kind of inside joke. It gives me the creeps. Or maybe it’s just my imagination. So far, it’s just a bunch of people getting drunk. Nothing satanic about that or you’d have to give this whole town an exorcism.
As much as I want to bolt out of there, I’ve got a job to do.
Strolling over to the card table, I run my hand over the worn green felt. It gives me an idea.
“We should play.”
“Poker?” Tyler scoffs. “We don’t play for wheat, Tate. How much money you got?”
“Let’s raise the stakes,” I say with a casual shrug.
“I’m liking the sound of that.” Ben takes off his jean jacket and rubs his hands together. “What’d you have in mind?”
“Strip poker.”
“Hell yeah!” Ben slaps me on the back and takes a seat at the table, shuffling the deck.
“This won’t be weird at all,” Tammy says as she takes a seat.
Ali studies me. “I’m game.”
“Come on, Jimmy.” Tyler pries him away from the bar and pushes him over to the table.
“What are we … thirteen?” Jimmy mumbles into his shot glass as he slumps down in the chair next to me.
Tyler’s the last one to sit down. He’s checking me out. He doesn’t trust me yet. “Five card draw. Two fold max,” he says.
Ben deals the first hand.
As we all look at our cards, there’s a tension in the room, like the feeling in the air right before lightning strikes.
Tyler smirks. He’s so easy to read, shows his emotions all over his face, in his body … always has. Obviously, he thinks he’s got a good hand. I learned how to control all that playing ball. I swear, half of it’s a mental game. Especially for the quarterback; it’s all about the fake out. Even though I’ve got a flush, I shift in my chair, lean forward, rub the back of my neck. I need everyone to think they’ve got me nailed.
Tammy’s got nothing, not even a pair of deuces, but she doesn’t complain about it. Without taking her eyes off the table, she slips out of her dress.
Tyler and Ben start snickering.
She pushes her glasses up like she doesn’t care, but I can see the flush spread up her neck. I don’t want to look, but I have to—that’s why I’m here. I spot the mark right above the pink elastic band of her underwear on her left hip. Just the sight of it raises the hair on the back of my neck. It’s really true then. Miss Granger was right. It’s the sixth generation—they’ve all been marked.
“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” Tammy says to me.
Everybody starts cracking up. Even Jimmy.
All I want to do is wrap her up in Ben’s jean jacket and tell her I’m sorry, but I bury it behind a fake grin. Two down, two to go.
While Tyler’s bluffing up to his eyeballs, probably dying to take something off just so he can show us his abs, Ben’s got his hands crossed over his chest, like he’d rather keep his clothes on. As a kid, Ben was on the husky side. People used to tease him, tell him he had bigger tits than his sister. They wouldn’t dare tease him now.
Tyler’s watching me out of the corner of his eye. And I feel that competitive streak coming back. I thought I’d buried it along with my dad, but I can feel it taking over every cell in my body. I want to beat him at any cost, teach him a lesson. I wouldn’t mind losing a hand, either. I might not be training with the team anymore, but farm work is no joke. I’m cut and I know it. The only thing I can’t take off is my tie.
I win the next hand. Ben’s got nothing. He opts to drop his khakis, revealing a droopy pair of green plaid boxers. Everyone whistles and hollers at him as he spins around to give us the full view. I spot the mark on the back of his calf.
Knocking my cards to the ground, I crouch under the table so I can give the camera a good long look. His mark looks fresh and raw, almost like I can still see the heat coming off it.
Tyler leans under the table, glaring at me. “You all right down there, Tate?”
“Yeah, fine.” I bump my head against the bottom of the table and then settle back in my seat.
Ali loses the next hand with a pair of sixes. She stands up and I don’t have to pretend to be interested. She has my full attention, but I don’t want her to take anything off, not in front of everyone. Especially not in front of Tyler. She unbuckles her turquoise belt and my heart starts hammering in my chest. Just the sound of the thick worn leather swishing through the loops sets off something inside of me.
She coils it on the table.