Shark of Spades

Let's Play Nicely Now

I brought the skill.

Jack brought the show.

Evan brought the slight-of-hand.

One distractor, one confusor, and one of the real thing.

This game was going to be interesting. There would be so many more components than I was typically used to analyzing. Besides, we'd never played together. Would we mesh? Or would we fall apart?

All of my thoughts were born purely of a scientific curiosity, as close to interested as my disinterested self could get.

Well, most of them. If I had nothing to lose, the game would simply be just that - a game, a means of entertainment - for me. But I had something to lose. Money, reputation...Playing cards had long since ceased to be a game for me. I guess I missed that a little, if I were to be honest  (which happens alternatively rarely or exceedingly often, depending on how you look at it - I am one of half truths, of half lies, and of murkiness that cannot be defined as either). Putting my life on the line had taken some of the traditional fun out of cards, and there was only so much adrenaline I could grab from analyzing my victims. Even pulling the final trigger on someone rarely succeeded in quickening my heart rate.

You're dead inside... Brushing my thoughts aside, I eyed the competitors surrounding the table. Two middle-aged white men, a black man in his mid-thirties who was wearing sunglasses and fingering his ear piercing, and a younger white guy three years older than me, give or take. They all looked fairly serious; meanwhile, I was trying to  hold in laughter. How long would their calm and concentrated demeanors last when their money was spewing from their pockets and magically leaping into mine?

Jack caught my eye and grinned, and I blinked back. This is how it should be, I thought to myself. Jack's job was to be overly dramatic; my job was to have no drama. Emotions, no emotions. Isn't that why you feel uneasy whenever he shows you the "real" him? I ignored my thoughts and focused back on the players in front of me, assessing whom I predicted to be the greatest threat.

The  two white guys were out immediately, leaving the black guy and the younger white guy. While the black guy had sunglasses and piercings, I saw the tip of a tattoo peaking out from under the white guy's shirt. He eventually caught me eyeing it and, smirking, raised his shirt to show me the snake that surged from his side and onto his chest before crawling up the bottom of his neck. "What do you think?"

I nodded. "Nice." I turned and pulled my shirt up a little bit, exposing my back and revealing the bottom half of a badass-looking butterfly with  razor-sharp edges. I don't know why I did that. Some common sense should have kicked in. Maybe the guy would notice that my spine was thin or  something. Maybe he would discover my secret. I don't know what I was thinking, just that showing tats to each other was like a greeting, in a way. For that moment, I didn't care about the risks, the dangers...I  just wanted to say hi to someone in the native language of common interests.

"Sweet," the guy responded, and I let my shirt fall back  down, turning and leaning back in my seat, arms crossed, to find both Evan and Jack staring at me with wide eyes, Evan looking slightly horrified and Jack looking secretly pleased (but still partially pissed off because he's so freaking complex that he can't just keep it simple and stick to one emotion).

"What?" I asked them, completely confused. What's wrong?

"Since when did you have a tattoo there?" Evan asked accusingly, while Jack added, "And why did you never tell me about it?"

I just stared at them, letting the weight of my eyes reflect how stupid I thought they were. What is this? Jealousy? Save it for someone who cares. "None of your business."

"But it's his?" Evan asked, gesturing at the guy. I looked over, and we met eyes and both just shrugged.

"What's the problem with showing each other tattoos?" he asked, absently touching the snake at the base of his neck. "There's nothing wrong with  that."

"Really, guys. A lot of people show each other tattoos. How is that weird?"

"Um, because you've never showed us your tattoos?" Jack suggested mock-politely, grinning scarily.

I rolled my eyes, sighing. "What do you want me to do, strip for you?"  Before either one of them freaked out, I continued calmly, "If you want  me to show you my tattoo, then you have to get one first. Then you can join the meet-and-greet club."

While Jack and Evan grumbled among themselves, the snake guy and I made eye contact again, and I gestured towards them with another roll of my eyes. "Sorry about them." I turned back. "Freaks."