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“You played smart. She had it.”

“I know she did.”

“That one hurts though,” Anvil says. He looks at me like he’s my coach and I’m an athlete who just won a race against the highest ranked runner in the state. “He can’t play his way because you are. It’s killing him.”

Trick rolls his eyes.

“How about a drink?” Anvil asks Trick, his grin widening. “No, you’re right. You’d better not.”

My eyes go to Trick’s drink, which is half full. It’s the one C made him when we started, and the ice melted long ago.

“No, I’ll take a new drink. Do you want one, Laurel?” Trick starts to stand, but C puts a hand on his shoulder.

“I got it. What do you say, Laurelyn? Another honey ginger drink or something different?”

“Anything. Thank you.”

“How about a side bet, ‘Vil?” C asks from the bar.

“No,” I say at the same time Anvil says, “Yeah.”

C scoops some ice into the shaker. “Fifty?”

“Thousand?” I gasp, frozen in my chair.

“Good,” Anvil says.

“Oh, my God, no.” Shooting to my feet, I take a step back from the table.

All the male eyes look at me like I’ve just done something inconceivable, like a backflip off a balcony. “I—can’t.” Exhaling, I take another step back.

Trick sets his cards down and comes around the table. “Come on, babe. Let’s take a walk.” He holds out his hand. Mine’s shaking when I set it in his.

He leads me out of the room. When we stop in the foyer, I look around, not sure how we got there. “It’s too much pressure.”

“C’s counting on that. Gonna let him make you forfeit?”

“Don’t you want me to?”

“Absolutely not.”

Swallowing hard, I ball my fists and then open them and shake my fingers out.

After a moment, he says, “It’s not fifty grand.”

I look at him, confused, because I know they wouldn’t bother making a side bet for fifty dollars.

“How much is it?”

“You should think of it as something like five hundred bucks.”

“But it’s not. It’s fifty thousand, right?”

“Fifty thousand doesn’t mean the same thing to them that it means to you.”

“Even five hundred’s a lot.”

“Then think of it as five bucks.”