Page 36 of Collided (Dirty Air 2)

Sophie

“So, don’t kill me, but I decided to plan something for your birthday.” Maya throws herself onto my bed.

“I regret telling you I’m a Taurus.” I groan.

“Don’t be dramatic. You not celebrating today should be a crime, seeing as even Taylor Swift wrote a song about feeling twenty-two.”

“My dad wasn’t big on celebrating birthdays while I was growing up. I’m much more of a Christmas kind of girl.” I flash her a smile.

Maya cringes. “Oh God. That alone proves why you deserve to do something to celebrate. Don’t worry. No one else will know it’s your special day. You should be happy, seeing as I decided to turn your birthday into a way to knock an item off on your list.”

“Now you’re talking.” I rub my hands together in my best evil genius impression.

She grabs her laptop and places it between us on the bed. “Get ready because we’re about to hustle hard.” She presses play, showing us a video of someone teaching viewers how to play poker.

“Oh, Maya. You know the way to make me happy.”

“Any normal girl would prefer some boozy brunch surrounded by friends.”

“Who needs that when we have strip poker? Speaking of, who are our victims? I hope they have thick wallets.” I waggle my brows.

Maya giggles as she leaves the bed. She rustles through her backpack before throwing me a gift bag. “Better study those videos and get ready. You’re about to clean house at Kulikov. I contacted some of the guys Santi used to race with and they’re up to playing with us tonight at 8 p.m. Room 128.”

I rip at the tissue paper, revealing a new graphic T-shirt saying One Casino. Two Casino. Three Casino. Poor.

“You might be the bestest friend I’ve ever had.” I jump off the bed and squeeze the air straight from her lungs.

“I have to support your healthy shirt obsession. Wear it tonight. They’ll already think you lost your money at the Monaco casinos.”

Maya leaves me to my own devices. I spend the better part of the next three hours studying everything there is to know about poker. By 8 o’clock, I’m well-versed in Texas hold ‘em and ready to kill with the shirt Maya bought me.

If all goes according to plan, I don’t intend on losing much clothes.

Maya meets me outside of the guys’ hotel room. She flashes me her clothes under her rain jacket, revealing too many layers of long sleeves under overalls, shorts, a bathing suit, and more. “Are you ready to hustle?”

“Please. I’m ready to eviscerate the competition.” I shimmy my shoulders.

“Good God you look mighty evil when you get that glint in your eye.”

The guys open the door to us. They’re two handsome racers, with broad shoulders and thick dark hair. They introduce themselves as Nikolai and Michail. Both of them speak with a heavy Russian accent.

We settle into our seats at the dining table, where our hosts pour us wine. Some card dealer they hired shuffles the cards.

“So, how many cards do we start with?” I channel my best Elle Woods impression.

“Three. Definitely three.” Maya hides her smile.

Nikolai laughs as he flashes us two fingers. “Are you sure you both know how to play? I can’t say I’d hate to see you both lose.”

Shameless flirt, this one.

“Yes. I heard this was just like Blackjack.” I roll my shoulders back, exuding confidence. Honestly, I hope I’m selling myself here.

Meryl Streep better hold on tight to her Oscar at night. I’m coming for it.

The guys break down each step for us as if we need it. Maya and I go along with their efforts, pretending we need further explanation of different hands. I don’t come off too strong at first. Some hands I lose on purpose, while others I win with a pretend shocked face.

After an hour, I’ve lost my T-shirt, sneakers, and funky socks to the pile of clothes.