American Girls(26)

I put in half the money that I had left, which would have cleaned out anyone but Josh. Jeremy folded and the other two extras folded as well. One of them was out, but I didn’t even notice when he left.

“I’ll call,” Josh said, looking me straight in the eye, gladiatorial. He pushed his chips into the pot. Jeremy turned an ace, and I could see Josh smile, just the tiniest curl at the corner of his mouth, and I could feel it, he had tens. He was going to beat me.

“All in,” I said, pushing my chips into the center.

Josh could barely contain his glee.

“You know there’s no insanity plea in poker, right?” he said.

“I know.”

He pushed the rest of his chips into the pot.

And then I caught that last eight on the river. It wasn’t just statistically unlikely, it was a damn miracle, up there with the wine and the fishes and feeding of the multitudes. I had been prepared to go down in a blaze of glory, but now I was going to win. I was going to win and it was going to look like dumb luck, so I did what only a true shark would do.

“Double or nothing?”

“It’s not even your money,” Josh said.

“This is hilarious.” Jeremy slapped his hand on the table, delighted. Even the extras had stopped texting.

“You realize I’m going to destroy you,” Josh said. “Is it possible you just like owing people money?”

“Double or nothing,” I said. “I have a job. I’m good for it.”

By then I had forgotten that they were television stars. Jeremy fished fifty more dollars out of his wallet and handed it to me. I put it on the table.

“It’s your life,” Josh said, and matched me. He rolled out his cards, exactly what I thought, full house, tens and eights.

“Is this better?” I asked in my most bullshit girl voice and laid my eights on the table.

“I love this girl,” Jeremy practically yelled, and it made me remember that he was one of the two biggest teen stars in the country, one of whom had just declared his extremely exaggerated love, and the other of whom I had just cleaned out.

“You bitch,” Josh said, turning the slur into a term of great respect. “That’s impossible.”

“Possible,” Jeremy said. “Happened.”

“Shut up, douche bag.”

I tried not to gloat as I moved the pot in my direction.

“I gotta go,” one of the extras said, pointing at his phone as if that explained everything.

“Cool, bro,” Josh said. “Later?”

“Mos def.”

They bumped fists, and then Josh excused himself.

“That was evil,” he said, turning around and pointing a finger at me. “How long are you here, again?”

“Most of the summer,” I said.

“Rematch. Beware and be ready. No cheat sheets next time.”

I smiled and shrugged like I had no idea what he was talking about. Jeremy stayed behind and I gave him the two hundred and fifty dollars that I had won.

“Thanks for spotting me.”

“Dude, I would have paid five hundred dollars to watch that beat-down. How long you been playing poker?”

“I don’t know. Since I was born?”

Jeremy made a dramatic “Thank you, God” gesture at the ceiling, and handed the money back.

“You won it.”

“But it’s not mine.”

“An honest thief,” he said. “We’ll split it.”

He handed me $125. I would have framed the bills if I didn’t already owe everyone I knew.

“So what are you doing here?” he asked. “Really. We know now that you’re a card shark. Are you some kind of media plant, too? Writing a story about the ‘troubled Taylors’?” He tucked his chin into his chest and used his best old-man newscaster voice when he mentioned his family, like he was trying to make them something imaginary, something he wasn’t really a part of. I knew the feeling.

“God, no,” I said. And I must have sounded shocked enough for him to believe that it was the truth. Had he really been thinking I was some kind of mole?

“But you are a writer, right? Are you working on a screenplay?”

In LA everyone was working on a screenplay, and in a way, I guess I was.

“Kind of. I’m helping”—I had to think about this one—“my sister’s friend. I’m doing some research. And I have this paper I need to write for school.”

“I figured,” he said. “You’re always reading.”

He smiled and tilted his head to the right. As he pushed his shirtsleeves up his arm, one at a time, for a minute I saw my life from a distance and I couldn’t believe it was really mine. How could I have been missing Georgia? Nothing like this ever happened there—not in Atlanta. Not to me.

“I’m not always reading.”

“You read a lot. What are you reading about now?”

“Cults,” I said. “You know, the kind where there’s someone in charge and people listen.”

“Oh, I know about cults,” Jeremy interrupted. “My mom was kind of in one when we were little. We lived on this farm in Pennsylvania when Josh and I were toddlers, and we weren’t allowed to talk unless we were singing.”