blue salt

score

Harry rubs his temple in frustration, looking at his hand but none of the cards line up like how he wants. To put it short, he was screwed. Damn Adam for tempting him to toss his rose ring in the pile of items that would belong to the winner. Harry was confident he was set. Even offering to throw in double. How could he be so stupid?

"Fold."

Sarah scoffs from across the table, flipping her cards over, revealing a full deck.

Harry's face flushes white, eyes roaming over her set, "this is bullshit!"

"Dude you're so bad at cards," Adam chuckles. There's a knock on the door and he stands up. "Probably the food, I'll get it."

Sarah shrugs, "it's not my fault you bet so much on something, fully knowing I was gonna end up kicking your ass anyways."

"Hey!"

She let's out a laugh, amused at his offended tone. "Okay buddy, fork it over," she motions pointing at her finger.

Harry was so attached to the ring. He can't even remember the last time he took it off his finger.

He knew he'd have another chance to win it back in a game, but that was as long as Sarah didn't lose it first.

Harry begrudgingly twists the silver band off his finger, it leaving a burning red line. He tosses it in the air, Sarah catching it in both hands before putting it in her pocket.

"Thank you, and loser can shuffle the cards and put them away."

Sarah stood up from her pretzel leg position on the floor where they were playing, stretching her limbs after hours of cards and shouting at each other.

Adam is by the door, signing for the pizzas they ordered an hour and a half ago. Harry figures the delivery boy probably had a hard time getting past the large crowd of people waiting outside the hotel. Tonight they are playing a show in Milan, and some eager fans seem to have found where they're staying for the few nights they're here.

He smiles to himself. He loves tour so far. 21 shows and many more to go.

Harry slides the cards back in their little cardboard box and picks the pillows from the bed off the floor.

Adam brings the 6 boxes for the three of them over to the island counter.

"Why did we get 6 again," Harry opens his wallet, pulling out five twenty dollar bills.

"Because I was hungry," Adam sets them down.

Harry tipped the guy a fair amount and saw how his eyebrows rose at the fat stack left in his hands. He waved him goodnight and shut the door.

Sarah and Adam had already opened all the boxes, the entire counter now covered in pizza, making the room smell sensational.

"Jesus Christ," Harry says seeing Adam stack 3 slices into his mouth at once. He goes to the mini fridge, pulling out a beer for himself. It was 5:00 p.m. so soon they'd all head to the venue for sound check.

Harry remembers the sudden loss of his ring as he goes to turn it like he would every so often. It was Amsterdam when Adam confronted Harry about how unfair his gambling habits were.
...
"Score," Adam grins as he reaches for the pot in the middle.

"Must hurt," Jeff says to Harry, half paying attention to the game, half on his phone.

"Eh," Harry shrugs, taking a shot of whatever Adam mixed together. Mostly vodka.

Adam looks disbelievingly. "Are you serious?"

Harry scratches his head, trying to think of what to say.