Shark of Spades

Haven't Lost the Touch

Being so widely known was troublesome. I've never much liked people, and the feeling seemed to be mutual. I was fine if people didn't like me;  whatever. It was more likely that they didn't realize that I existed. And that was all fine and well.

But now I'll walk into rooms, flagged by my two partners in crime, and I'll hear my tag name being whispered. I'll feel that suffocating weight of overt stares threatening to slow my steps, making me want to hide.

But I need money. Entertainment. Or maybe that's just what I tell myself, because fact of the matter is, I  won't ever be able to stay away from cards, and my two partners won't ever be able to stay away from me.

So I make my steps even. I ignore the whispers and the stares and the glares and the growls and the smirks and the judgement and all the white noise that wants to crowd out the only thing I care about.

Then I sit down at the table. "Deal me in." And they all fade away.

***

It's been two years since my brother resurfaced, since I met the guy who I now consider to be my friend, since I learned of the passing of the bill to extend gender separation by sticking females 8 - 21 in communities.  It used to be 8 - 18, but I guess the government figured that selling older, matured girls out of the country for a high price was more profitable. Because that's what they were doing. The government, I mean.  Telling the government that it was due to keep the population under control, to preserve chaste ideals, to satisfy religious zealots. There was a plethora of reasons; I'd heard them all. After all, I'd been  researching it. Once upon a time, I was stupid, too. Just like everyone else. Just like my parents, who let me be taken from them at age 8 without resisting. When I was there, I endured. It wasn't bad by any  means. Food, education, bed. What more could a pet girl ask for? Because that's all we were, just little kittens being groomed to sell for a high price.

When I was there, I saw something I wasn't supposed to  see. My roommate went to sleep that night, but I was struggling to fall asleep, so I stared at the ceiling instead. That's how I knew that two  men came and abducted her. Then the counselors told me that she'd run away and I'd get a new roommate. I was fourteen then. Plenty old enough to know when people are bad.

They were bad.

They were very bad.  They ran human trafficking rings through the government-sponsored camps and sold girls away, then covered up their absences with "They ran away"  or "They fell in a river and drowned" or "They committed suicide" as they counted the money in their other hand, the one that wasn't giving you the middle finger.

So I ran away. Went straight back home and asked my brother to help hide me. He helped me, all right. He didn't  tell me, but he used his card skills to gather information and start a file that he was planning to publicize on information about the human trafficking.

But then he'd been murdered. Or so I had thought. I still don't know what really happened, and I don't want to ask.

So I ran away again, hiding this time as a man. That's when I met Jack, initially just an interesting (and potentially dangerous) fellow gambler. He'd had some history with my brother (including possibly  trying to kill him or turn him in), but we all somehow ended up together. We were just on a different frequency from everyone else.

We used our connection to win games of poker and small gambling gigs we could pick up here and there. That's how word spread, quietly at first,  and then much faster. That's why, when I walk into rooms, I get this kind of treatment. A mix of subtle awe and not-so-subtle disgruntlement.

***

It's a month before my 22nd birthday, when I'll be legally allowed to live freely as myself, as Misa and not Card.

A month before we plan to publish the file we've been accumulating until now.

A month before I go back to hiding in my own skin.

A month before I'm able to breathe again.

***

I laid down the winning hand and stood up, leaving Ace to collect the money and Joker to part on good terms with the losers. I just played the game; the rest was their work.

When we all met up outside, Ace came up to me and slapped me on the shoulder. "Nice job."

I shrugged. "I wasn't even paying attention. Too distracted..." I paused and gestured to my head. "Up here."

"Sometimes,"  Joker said, glaring at me but grinning a second later, his pointy teeth  shining under the flickering street light. "You make me want to kill you out of jealousy. It's not fair to waste talent on one such as you."

Behind my sunglasses, I rolled my eyes, fingering the trigger of my pistol with gloved fingers. "Keep talking, and I'll show you another gift wasted on me."

"Oh? Like the gift of the butterfly?" he asked. "You promised me that you'd show me-"

"Like the gift of the trigger finger. Now shut up and walk."

No objections.