Page 45 of Filthy Little Fix

In the second round, instead of just calling to stay in the game, I raise. It's a reckless bet that makes all of them look at me as they would a dog who shits on the living room sofa. Unpleasant.

"What, feeling lucky, kid?" Ruslan asks. He lets out a mocking laugh. "Or did your little brain finally overheat?"

I don't answer. I know he's bluffing. He can't stop looking at his own hand.

"Come on, kid. Bet again," Grigory growls. He doesn't like this. He's feeling pressured. "Or are you gonna cry to Mommy? Think your pretty face will save you from losing everything?"

Feeling pressured is a sign. He doesn't want to risk losing to the nerd.

I raise again.

I look at my shitty cards. I look at Grigory. He's pissed.

Ruslan lets out a sarcastic laugh and folds, throwing his cards on the table. He curses under his breath, "Fucking kid." He's out of the round.

Grigory, the survivor, stares at me, scratching his chin. He has a strong hand and doesn't want to fold, but my bet caught him off guard.

He curses at me.

"Idiot. You don't know what you're doing," he says.

I smile at him. I don't say anything. I see a drop of sweat on his forehead. Really, losing to the boss's little IT kid would be a disgrace.

He looks at his cards, looks at me. Looks at the chips. He coughs.

"Fuck it," he says, throwing his cards face down on the table. "I fold."

Then they all lean in for the showdown—wondering what I could have in my hand to call out Grigory, the biggest of them all with the worst scowl.

Grigory turns his cards over first—a king and a jack. The entire table falls silent. In the community cards, there was a set of those—he would have made a pair of Kings and Jacks. A strong hand. Much stronger than mine.

Their anticipation is almost fun. It makes me laugh. I turn over my cards and toss them on the table in all their magnificent misery.

A pair of threes is a shitty hand.

"You had a pair of threes?!" Grigory exclaims immediately. "Damn, you folded a king and a queen last round, and now you beat me with a pair of threes?!"

I can't help but smile at the absurdity as I take all his chips. Yes, Grigory, you lost to the IT nerd.

The other capos start laughing. Not at me.

"He beat you with nothing!" Marco cackles. "What the hell was that bluff, Grigory? He doesn't even know how to play!"

"Did you see his hand? A pair of threes! I had a King and a Jack!"

The whole room explodes in laughter. It's chaos.

"That was a disgrace, Grigory," Ruslan says.

"It was beginner's luck, dammit!" Grigory insists, his face red.

"Bet again, let's see if it was luck," I say.

Grigory stares at me, furious. He wants to punch me. I wish he could.

It's only at this moment that I notice the air in the room has changed. There's a presence. A weight.

Dante.