Shark of Spades

New Town, New Separation

Jack drew me up a map to our destination after both of us agreed on the need to conceal our connection. I didn't bother asking where he'd heard about this, if he knew who was involved, or how he anticipated his welcome (or unwelcome), just grabbed the map and nodded. He told me to leave first (presumably since I'd take a bit longer with the unfamiliar  area), so I left, the map in my left pocket, my gun in my right, and my money hidden in various places. I'd made it a point to become as  directionally-conscious as possible, so I found the abandoned warehouse quickly and waited outside.

Jack showed up twenty minutes later, walking with his hands in his pockets. He nodded at me and opened the  door, walking in first and casually greeting three middle-aged men seated around a table. He then gestured at me. "He's with me." Had Jack not introduced me, I would most likely have been rejected or shut out,  hence leaving separately but walking in together.

"First time?" the  one on the left asked, laughing a little. "What's with the sunglasses  and gloves? Think you're a hotshot? You look a little thin there.  Where'd you pull this runt from?" he asked Jack, clearly writing me off.

Before Jack could say anything in defense of me (which I wasn't sure that he would, anyhow), I sat down in a chair. "What are we playing?" I asked calmly, ignoring the man on the left and focusing on  the middle one.

"Well aren't you confident?" the man on the left asked, focusing on me again.

"If I'm not confident now, you're going to accuse me of hustling you later," I replied dryly, not looking at him and instead still looking at  the middle guy. "Deal me in."

Jack grinned and sat down beside me on my left. "Why would I have brought him if I thought that he couldn't handle it?"

The man of the left just grunted, picking up his cards after they'd been dealt. Jack took note of his own cards, examined the set up, and said,  "So we're playing Straights and Flushes?"

I looked at my cards. "I've never played this before."

"It's a local favorite," Jack added, not helpful in any way possible.

"Thanks," I muttered. "Just tell me what I'm trying to do."

He gave me the bare minimum of rules, the least amount of information possible, and while the other guys were laughing at my naivete, Jack  said, "Maybe I have a chance of beating you this time."

"You make it sound like you've lost to him before," the guy on my right said, still laughing.

Jack grinned and laughed with them, neither confirming nor denying his statement. The entire game, they all poked fun at me, even Jack.

This is why I hate moving.

I sighed, looking at my hand. Let's just make this fast.

***

Needless to say, I won.

***

When  I got to my new apartment that night, I was left with a few minutes alone since Jack had taken the longer way, and I spent that time  wondering why he'd basically conspired against me. Before I got angry, I took my shoes off, turned the lights off, and laid down on the bed, pulling the covers over me with my still-gloved hands and blocking out  any light from the windows perceived by my still-sunglassed eyes. When I failed to fall asleep within two minutes, I got back up, put on my shoes, paced for a few minutes, and finally sat down in the armchair beside the bed, leaning forward slightly and clasping my hands in my lap.

When Jack got back fifteen minutes later, I hadn't moved. He opened the door, shutting it softly behind him, and looked around for a  moment before spotting me in the chair. Instead of turning the lights  on, he came over and sat on the bed. "Are you mad at me?" he asked indifferently. He may as well have been picking at his nails.

I hesitated, not out of reluctance to answer but out of the search for the precise  words that I wanted. "Yes, but I have no reason to be." I paused, this time because I was rethinking my answer. "So I guess not."

Jack did something uncharacteristic of him. He frowned, an actual frown with an actual facial expression of concern, or as close as I'd ever seen him to such an emotion. "You may not have a whole heck of a lot of things to  your name, but you should always be able to express your feelings  honestly, especially with me."

"Why especially with you? Jack, we're partners in gambling. We're not friends, we're not confidants. We only  exist in coordination to make more money. I don't have the right to be honest, and you don't have the right to encourage me to do so, just as neither of us has the right to act like we're concerned about each other." I stood up, feeling absolutely calm. "We're business partners, nothing more, nothing less. So unless you're paying me to be honest, then I won't." I walked past him to the door, my hand resting on the doorknob. "Don't mention this conversation ever again."

"Wait."

I turned. "What?"

He met my eyes, looking utterly serious. "If we were friends, then would you be honest with me?"

I didn't hesitate at all, except to wonder why being friends seemed to be so important to Jack all of a sudden. "No, because we're not friends, and we'll never be friends."

"Funny," he said quietly, "because that's exactly what your brother said."