Rules of the Game

He nodded, and slid over the hockey puck. "The game continues as though you're dealing the hand anyway. This shows where the deal is. Jim's the Small Blind now, and Bill the Big Blind." Obediently, Jim and Bill both dropped in their chips. Then he continued with words that both relieved, and sent a chill down my spine. "We're playing by Friday night rules now. The pot's doubled and we double on each raise. No more sticking to the Big Blind raise. No more checking either, except for the person who last raised. It's either Call, Raise or Fold. And the raise amount doubles again on The Turn. You OK with that? You'll spend money faster, but it also means you could really clean up with a couple of good hands."

He added this last as I shrugged my agreement. The others, with the exception of Jim, who looked grim and fiddled with his chips, nodded in approval and said "Good girl" "Now we're getting somewhere" and "No more pussy footing around."

My heart thumped harder and my blood pressure made my ears ring.

After Jim and Bill doubled the amounts of the blinds to $1 and 2$, Steve quickly dealt the cards, starting with Jim and circling the table back to me. I kept my hands resting on my thighs until I received my second card. Then, fingers trembling, I peeked and found the Queen of Spades, and the Four of Clubs. Better than the three and six I'd had before, I thought. Hopefully, good enough to lose with.

"Let's get this horse race runnin'!" Nick cried. "Call and raise!" He dropped in four blue chips, which Mike, Rich and Robert called one after the other. And which Gary raised with a matching $4. My heart stuttered at the speed with which chips dropped in the pile. Steve called the $8, followed immediately by me, and then Nick, Mike, Rich and Robert added their matching chips in quick succession. I thought for a moment Gary intended to raise again, but after toying with his chips for a moment, and rolling the cigar between his lips, he went ahead and checked. I breathed a sigh of relief, while at the same time thinking no one was particularly happy with this hand. A quick tally gave me $72 in the pot. I was down another $8. I had $75 left. $75 to get rid of, I reminded myself grimly. I clenched my teeth, and clenched my hands together in my lap.

"Burning the top card.," Steve announced and flipped the card onto its back. He then dealt out the Eight of Clubs, the Ace of Clubs, and the Six of Diamonds. I had nothing, I realized sickly: a Queen high. Though none of the men so much as flinched, I could feel the general dissatisfaction with Steve's deal of cards. Steve grinned, knowing this was a bad round. I had to remind myself again that I wanted bad cards, wanted to lose my money. I wondered how many would fold. I wondered how many would fold when I started playing for my clothing.

It was Jim's go and he wanted to check, I could sense it. I also sensed that, had he not been part of the conspiracy, he'd have cut his loses and folded right then. I changed his mind with a little nudge from my toe, hoping he'd perceive it the right way. He did, calling the bet and dropping in his two chips. I could feel his displeasure.

Stupid ass, I thought back. You'd rather trade a chance at fucking me for a few lousy dollars?

He flinched, as though reading my mind.

In quick succession, Nick, Mike and Richard all folded. I saw Jim's shoulders tense and immediately felt sorry I'd pushed him into the bet. Worse, I knew I had to fold on my next turn or the one immediately after, or risk letting on that I was intentionally trying to loose. I had nothing; I wasn't going into the showdown with nothing.

Robert raised, and I watched Jim's mouth tighten as, one after the other, we threw in our cards. Sorry, I whispered mentally. I twisted my left foot so that I could run it up and down his right calf. He tightened at first, and then visibly relaxed. He almost allowed a smile on his face. Almost. Again, I felt Steve's eyes on me.

The next round was a joke. Steve burned and turned a Five of Diamonds as The Turn card. Bill dropped in $4, followed moments later by Robert, who did likewise. Bill checked and Steve burned and dealt out The River card, the Queen of Clubs, which I frowned at irritably. I would have had a pair of queens. Not enough to win, I was sure, but still a pair of queens. Moments later, Bill took the pot of $104 with two pair.

This sucks, I thought. I'm down a whole $29 dollars. This wasn't happening fast enough.

The next hand started no better. I held the Jack of Clubs and the Nine of Hearts. I ended with a pair of Jacks, stayed in until the finish, took a bit of razzing for not folding when I should have, raised no undo suspicious regardless, and watched Mike scoop up the $100 plus pot on pairs of Kings and Jacks. Jim had folded on The Turn, and again, I stroked his calf with my foot. This time he smiled, like a Cheshire cat. If Steve noticed, he didn't let on. I was now down $44. Another $60 to go.

The process took another four hands. The deal had just gone to Gary when Mike conveniently pointed out my dearth of chips. I had $14 dollars remaining. "Looks like she needs a reboot," he said jokingly.

Jim had already cashed in another hundred, and Steve and Bill were beginning to run low also. Steve looked aggravated about this, Bill, resigned. As Mike started to dig out his wallet, I did three things simultaneously: I held up my hand, I shook my head no, and I caressed Jim's leg with my foot.

"Uh-uh," I said. "I'm out." I pushed back from the table and began to arise as one after the other, the men, Mike the most vehemently, objected.

"No way!" Mike exclaimed. "Steve told you we were covering you in this. Sit back down, girly-que."

"No one pays my way," I replied, though not stiffly. "I appreciate you all letting me lose all your money, I really do. It was fun. But I'm not letting anyone shell out more money when I'm just going to lose it again."

"Come on!" Nick exclaimed. "A hundred bucks is nothing."

"Mike uses that to buy toothpicks," Rich interjected.

"I use that to buy toothpicks," Bill threw in.

"Shit, I spend that much in condoms, you a-holes."

Everybody gave Nick hell for that.

"Really, Lisa, don't desert us," Jim complained.

Feigning undeterred, I half-turned, grabbing the chair-back, preparing to wheel the chair back to the desk.

"Rent's due in six days. I need my money for that. Sorry."

"Rent, schment," Mike said derisively. "We'll pay the f-ing rent. Stay in the game, Lisa."

"No," I said firmly. "I don't take welfare and I don't let people waste their money." I headed the chair back into the living room. "Go one with your game, guys. I'll still be here."

"As a bar-maid?" Bill said. "No thanks. What'dya say, Steve? Grandfather her the rent money? We'll pick it up. Won't we guys?"

"Hell, yeah!" Mike and Nick exclaimed at the same time. "I'll pay the rent myself," added Mike. So far, except for the crack about condoms, I hadn't heard from Robbie, Gary or Steve. And then Steve cleared his throat. This was it: The literal Moment of Truth. I held my breath, my heart pounding, my blood pressure shy rocketing.

No pause, I cut in ahead of whatever Steve had to say.

"I could..." I broke off and bit my lower lip. Obediently, my face reddened gaily.

"Could what?" Mike wanted to know.

"Whatever you want," Nick added.

"Um-umm," I said, shaking my head again. I felt the intense concentration of Jim's gaze on my back. I moved the chair another six inches toward the desk.

"Hey! I know what," Jim exclaimed.

Steve cut him off. "Let the girl be. Can't you see she's embarrassed?"

"What's she got to be embarrassed about?" Mike objected. "She ain't lost worse than the rest of us. The only one not offering anything is Robbie, and he's taken the biggest pots."

I tried unsuccessfully to make sense of that particular statement and gave up. It smacked a bit of desperation, which was good, I thought. Desperation was what I wanted. Without turning, I said quietly "Well...I could--"

"Could what?" Jim asked on cue.

I kept my back turned. I felt my face redden in anticipation. The trembling evaporated momentarily, and then came back with a vengence.

"Could what?" Mike repeated. He knew. I knew he knew. I could hear it in his tone, in the sudden excited tremor of sexual excitement.

"I could--" I began again. "I could, maybe sell something for money?"

The table went dead silent. No one spoke. Not even Steve, though I could hear the cigar grind between his teeth.

"Sell something?" Bill said dumbly.

I nodded, still with my back turned.

"Like what?" Mike wanted to know, too innocent, too calmly.

"My bra?" I suggested.

The silence deepened like a black hole. I immediately recanted, withdrew the offer entirely.

"Never mind. That's the stupidest thing I've ever said. Forgive me," I said. I finished wheeling the chair back to the desk and turned to head for my bedroom. The eruption of objections was equally for and against my idea.

"No Way!" Steve announced in no uncertain terms. His pronouncement was aimed at the men, not at me.

"I think it's a great idea!" Mike complained. "It's not like we'll see anything. And she'll get to stay in the game that way."

"Right!" Nick agreed enthusiastically.

"No way!" Robbie agreed with Steve.

"Says who?" Bill wanted to know.

"Says me," Gary growled. "We didn't come here for strip poker. Not with Steve's daughter's goddamed roommate, you idiot."

"Who you calling an idiot, you asshole!"

"Don't call her a goddamned roommate!" Jim jumped in. "Where's your goddamned respect?"

"I'll give you some respect," Gary threatened, red-faced now and half-rising from his chair, pointing his thick finger across the table.

"Guys!" I had to get this quieted down, under control. "It's my decision what to wear or not. Not yours. You only have to decide if my bra is worth $25."

"$25?" Mike queried.

"That's what I paid for it," I lied. It had been a Christmas present from Matt, my asshole boyfriend, via a Victoria's Secret gift certificate. The matching purple bra and panties had been one of two sets I got for $100, plus change. The bras were $40 each.

"I'll give you $50 for it," Jim got in before anyone else could.

"Sold," I said, even as Steve exploded "Hell no!"

"Why not?" Jim demanded, reddening.

"Because I said so!" Steve shouted, even as I began the complicated procedure of removing my bra under my T-shirt.

I listened to the back and forth between Jim and Steve, Mike and Steve, Nick and Robert, Richard and Gary, Bill and Jim, oddly enough on the same side yet still arguing about it. The debate raged on and then ended abruptly as I removed the purple bra from my right sleeve and walked it over to the table to Jim. My champions stared at it open-mouthed, while my defenders glowered. I dropped the bra into Jim's lap.

"$50," I reiterated.

He nodded disjointedly and counted out and quickly shoved $50 worth of chips into my spot. I could feel the excitement coming off him like radio waves. Were he a generator, he'd be pumping out 5,000 watts.

Watching, Steve chewed his cigar, practically grinding the end out of existence between his teeth. Gary fumed, while Robbie looked lost of what to say next. Oddly, it was Robert and Gary and Steve I owed my allegiance to, not Jim and the others. Whatever their reasons—and in Gary's case, the reasoning was decidedly unclear—they did not want me dishonoring myself like this, endangering myself. If they only knew, I thought, sighing.

* * *

The following hands went well. That is to say, I lost honestly, and gracefully. Jim kept my brassiere safe on his lap, and even talked facetiously about selling it back when the time came.

"Yeah, for double the price," Mike quipped.

Jim shook his head. "$50. The same as I bought it for."

"Yeah, right," Nick said, eying my meager cache of chips. I had $14 dollars left, and I'd won a hand. Two hands, actually, though both were very small. The pots were remaining small, purposely, I knew, to keep me from going broke.

Now past the "hump," my nerves had settled somewhat. I no longer felt like a scream waiting to happen. My trembling had eased, my stomach had quieted, and I no longer felt a constant need to go pee. Most importantly, I no longer felt the steel band of fear clamped around my chest. It had disappeared along with my bra. Well, mostly.

Predictably--or maybe not so predictably--the men were keeping their eyes clear of my chest. Steve, I knew, remained disturbed by the turn of events. So did Robert and Gary. No one had mentioned my bra (except that once early on), my modest striptease, the fact that I was running low on cash again and would need another transfusion, that I had only my shoes and socks, T-shirt and shorts, and panties left to barter with. Except for my shoes and socks, I felt that every one of them, Mike and Nick included, would balk at any attempt to rid myself of more clothing. For the time being, anyway. I had to get them drunk.

"Time for more beer?" I asked. I pushed back and stood, purposely twisting to tighten my T-shirt across my breasts. I felt an immediate snap to attention. One by one the guys either handed over their bottles, or completely drained them and then handed them over. Mike, in particular gave my chest the once-over before surrendering his bottle. Nick and Richard, and even Robert eyed me, not quite surreptitiously, while Gary only smirked.

This wasn't good enough. I had not simply lagged in my duties as hostess, I'd botched this aspect of the plan entirely. Not a single man had downed more than three beers. I was completely sober myself. Worse, I was beginning to jitter again. I needed alcohol.

Winking at the group as a whole, I ran the empties into the kitchen, guessing Steve would join me there for some verbal spanking, which he did.

"You should know I'm not happy about this," he growled.

I kept my tone neutral. "I won't take your money, Steve. You can bitch at me all you want about it. You guys insisted I say in the game, and selling my bra was the only way I could think of to do it."

"Bull shit," he grumbled. "You could have sold something else."

"My comics collection, for instance? My collection of rocks from around the world? What exactly do you think I have that anyone wants, Steve? It could have been my T-shirt," I pointed out, grinning.

"That's not the point." He was getting angry again. His face darkened unhealthily and his jaw muscles bunched. "You are my daughter's roommate and damned no way should you be playing strip poker with my guys. It's ludicrous. It's shameful. Shameful for me, putting you in the position in the first place. Double shameful for letting you do it. You drop out when we return. Jimmy will return your bra, and we'll stop this nonsense right now. Before it escalates any further."

I was touched. I really was. I put my hand on his arm and squeezed it gently. "Thank you for caring so much, Steve. I know you're worried about the appropriateness of this. My being taken advantage of, I guess. I appreciate it, I do. Have you ever heard a song called Just a Girl?"

He frowned, bewildered.

"It's by a group called No Doubt. It came out in the early zeros. I think in 2003." I opened the refrigerator door and handed him bottles as I had Jim. He seemed uncertain what to do with them, so I handed him two more. He put them on the tray, unopened.

"Gwen Stefani is their lead singer," I said. "You may have heard of her? Anyway, it's about the burden of being a girl in a man's world. The unfairness of it all. How we have to be guarded for our own good. How we're so helpless by ourselves. How we can't drive at night without our husbands or boyfriends along for protection. How we need a hand to hold on to, to be guided. How we're captives in the world you men created.

"Actually, in my own home, Steve, I'd like to dress the way I want without asking anyone's permission. It's embarrassing...humiliating, really. Do you think I could do that?"

I had rehearsed this speech earlier and now watched it shut him down completely, just as planned. I grinned, handing him two more bottles as his face darkened almost to umber. This man who had treated me like a father, had saved my butt on untold occasions, who I had just cut off at the knees with a chain saw. I felt like a complete and total shrew.

"We OK?" I asked.

He chewed his cigar.

"Steve?"

"As long as you don't take off anything else."

"I can't promise that, Steve."

"Lisa..."

"I want to play."

"At the expense of your dignity?"

"I could get better," I lied.

"You'd have to get a lot better than you are right now. You're one girl against eight experienced men. They're letting you off easy now."

"I don't want any special favors," I argued. "They shouldn't play any differently with me than they do with anyone else."

"You're not everyone else," he insisted. In his eyes, in his features, behind the mask of anger, I could detect pain. He thought of me as his daughter and wanted me safe, protected, angelic. If touched my heart, making it ache. Perhaps I should abandon this moronic idea, I thought. Before I broke his heart.

Again, the image of the video, locked in freeze-frame as I gazed in despair at my laptop's screen, invaded me with arctic cold. I gulped, remembering the knife thrust of pain and the stab of betrayal I'd felt. My eyes teared and I looked away quickly. I closed the refrigerator door and grabbed the tray.

"The others are waiting," I said. "Let's play."

"Lisa..." he tried one more time. But I was out the door and back to the dining room.

* * *

My $14 lasted one round. The rules were, Steve insisted, that you buy-in between hands, not during.

"Bullshit!" Mike and Jim announced together.

"What kind of arbitrary bullshit is that?" Mike wanted to know.

"You buy-in at any time," Jim complained.

Nick said, "You making up the rules you see fit now, Steve?"

Even Robert looked doubtful.

"Its my game, I make the rules," Steve growled.

"Bullshit!" Mike said again. "The rules are, we buy in any damned time we want to."

"It's OK," I interjected, trying to defuse things.

"It is not OK," Mike shot back. "He's trying to play God. Make you stop playing."

"Maybe I should stop," I offered as a gambit. "I'm only causing you trouble."

At once, Nick jumped to my defense. "I, for one, welcome the addition. It's nice to have someone not old and fat and bald at the table. Fuck you," he growled to the many objections, grinning. "You know it's true you assholes. Besides, you're a lot nicer to look at than Steve's ugly-ass puss, Lisa."

The others laughed and agreed. Steve was the color of umber again. He looked like a boiler, two seconds from explosion. I jumped in before it could escalate further.

"I have my shoes and socks," I said. "I could use them as filler until the next hand." I quickly reached down and slipped my right tennie off my foot, along with my right anklet and held them up. "That is, if anyone thinks they're worth anything," I added.

Immediately, together, giving each other a hard look afterward, Jim and Nick and Mike all said "Hell, yes!"

I laughed, while Mike bid $50.

"No way," I said. "They weren't worth that much new." Actually, they had cost me $80 new, but I wasn't telling them that.

"$50 for all four," Nick put in.

"I was meaning all four," I corrected. "They go as a set. $20?"

Jim and Nick and Mike all said yes at the same time. To keep peace, I divvied up the booty and sold the socks to Jim for $5, and a shoe each to Nick and Mike for $10 apiece. I now had $25 more to lose.

Steve was furious. Angrily, he ordered us back to the game.