Here to Win (Walker Boys Sequel)

Chap. 19

“Mason!” dad called over the intercom. “Meet me in the kitchen.”

I pulled my pillow over my head, letting out a frustrating groan. I’d actually been dozing off, finally experiencing a sense of relief.

With one final grunt I pushed myself out of bed, leaving my sling hanging on my bed post.

As I made it to the kitchen, I deeply regretted not taking the sling. My shoulder was no longer aching, it was screaming in pain.

Dad was sitting in the kitchen, shuffling cards. Ethan was across from him, tapping his fingers on the table.

I looked between the two of them. “Hello?”

“Are you in any condition to go tonight?” dad asked, dealing out the cards. He dealt a pile for me.

I slid down at the table and picked up the cards with my right hand. “Tonight?”

“Did you forget?”

I sifted through my cards, humming. “Well obviously.”

“Hit me,” Ethan said, a smirk on his face.

Dad flipped him a Queen.

“You’ve got to be out,” I said, raising my eyebrows.

“Hit me again,” he said, with another smirk.

“There’s no way.”

Dad flipped him a 6 of Diamonds.

Ethan gave me a sidelong look. “One more time.”

My jaw dropped as dad flipped him an Ace.

“I’m good.”

“So tonight,” I said, studying my cards. “Care to elaborate?”

“Does the name Lolo ring a bell?” dad asked.

“Hit me,” I ordered, staring at the 4 and 6 in my hand. Then I realized what he said. I slammed my cards on the table, face-down. “Wait, that’s tonight?”

Dad nodded. “You feel up to going? You don’t have to.”

I’d received a Queen, perfect. “Hell yeah I want to go. What time are we leaving?”

“6.”

I looked at the clock. 5:30? Plenty of time to get ready. “Oh, I’m good.”

After dad dealt to himself, we all flipped over our cards. Dad had a nineteen.

“Winning!” I called, slamming my cards on the table.

Ethan smirked and lied out his cards. 21.

“Bullshit.”

“You see it,” he said, with a smirk.

“He’s a card shark,” dad clarified. “I’ve played him six times so far and I haven’t won yet.”

“Go to Vegas, don’t waste your talents on us,” I said, standing up.

“Remember, 6,” dad called, as I headed back up to my room.

“How could I forget?”

“You mean how could you forget again?”

I went into my closet, a sinking feeling in my stomach. It was normal for dad to discuss things over cards, but only important things, stuff that really mattered. So why did this Lolo Jones dinner matter so much to him?

I stared at my clothes for a few more minutes before snapping a picture of my closet and sending it to Amy. I’d become accustomed to her dressing me for important events.