The Last Harvest(36)

While Tyler’s bluffing up to his eyeballs, probably dying to take something off just so he can show us his abs, Ben’s got his hands crossed over his chest, like he’d rather keep his clothes on. As a kid, Ben was on the husky side. People used to tease him, tell him he had bigger tits than his sister. They wouldn’t dare tease him now.

Tyler’s watching me out of the corner of his eye. And I feel that competitive streak coming back. I thought I’d buried it along with my dad, but I can feel it taking over every cell in my body. I want to beat him at any cost, teach him a lesson. I wouldn’t mind losing a hand, either. I might not be training with the team anymore, but farm work is no joke. I’m cut and I know it. The only thing I can’t take off is my tie.

I win the next hand. Ben’s got nothing. He opts to drop his khakis, revealing a droopy pair of green plaid boxers. Everyone whistles and hollers at him as he spins around to give us the full view. I spot the mark on the back of his calf.

Knocking my cards to the ground, I crouch under the table so I can give the camera a good long look. His mark looks fresh and raw, almost like I can still see the heat coming off it.

Tyler leans under the table, glaring at me. “You all right down there, Tate?”

“Yeah, fine.” I bump my head against the bottom of the table and then settle back in my seat.

Ali loses the next hand with a pair of sixes. She stands up and I don’t have to pretend to be interested. She has my full attention, but I don’t want her to take anything off, not in front of everyone. Especially not in front of Tyler. She unbuckles her turquoise belt and my heart starts hammering in my chest. Just the sound of the thick worn leather swishing through the loops sets off something inside of me.

She coils it on the table.

“That’s it?” Ben teases.

She lifts an eyebrow. “Accessories count for girls.”

“Wuss,” Tammy says under her breath. I can’t help but crack a smile.

Jimmy’s the only one left. He’s already folded twice. His number’s up and we all know it. As soon as he gets his cards, I can tell how irritated he is. Tiny beads of sweat dot his furry upper lip. He’s going down. He shows his hand and he’s got zilch. I can see him struggling, trying to decide if he should take off his shirt or his pants. He opts for the shirt. He’s always been a weird kid, but I feel sorry for him. His skin’s pale and smooth like a baby’s. I can see every rib poking out along with a half dozen chest hairs spread out in the worst places. He folds his shirt over the back of his chair and I get a glimpse of what I think is the mark on his lower back. He shrinks back into his seat too quickly to be sure. I can tell he just wants to be left alone, but I have to record it. He’s the last one. Just one more and I can get the hell out of here.

I don’t want to do it, but I start baiting him, razzing him, trying to get him to stand back up. I pretend to shield my eyes. “Jimmy, man, maybe you should put it back on.”

Tyler and Ben quickly join in.

“Don’t want to scar the ladies for life.”

“If you take anything else off, we’re all going to be sterile.”

Jimmy looks around the table at everyone but me. They’re all trying not to crack up, but the harder they try, the worse it gets, until they’re all cackling like hyenas.

“Screw you, guys.” Jimmy throws down his cards. “I should’ve known better than to play with you jocks.” Without getting up, he reaches for his shirt.

He’s not going to stand up. Damn. This could be my only chance.

“Six,” I yell as I look to my left. “Forty-two,” I yell as I look to the right. “Hut!”

The three of us tackle Jimmy to the ground.

Ben and Tyler are laughing their asses off as they roll to the side. I flip Jimmy onto his stomach. He’s kicking, spitting and hollering, trying to get out from under me, but it’s no use. I trap his hands under my knees and jerk down his pants. There it is, on his lower back. I can’t believe they gave him a tramp stamp. I pretend to adjust my tie, making sure the camera has a good view.

As I get off him, Jimmy grabs his shirt and crawls into the corner like a wounded animal. His cheeks are ruddy and damp. Nobody pays him much mind. Tyler high-fives me and my stomach drops. It reminds me of that last game. Tyler did that after I beat the shit out of that kid. If Tyler high-fives you, you know you’ve probably done something rotten. I feel awful, but it had to be done. Jimmy took one for the team and he doesn’t even know it.

“Nobody humiliates me like that anymore.” Jimmy staggers to his feet. “Nobody!” he screams and storms out of the room.

“Jimmy,” Ali calls after him.

“Leave it,” Tyler says.

I think about going after him to apologize when Tammy grabs a bottle of bourbon from the bar. “How about a different game?” she whispers, laying the bottle on the card table.

“How many times do I have to tell you to speak up,” Tyler says. “No one understands a word you’re saying.”

“I think she wants to play spin the bottle.” Ben grins. “Tammy, I had no idea you cared.”

Tammy rolls her eyes.

“I’m in,” Tyler says, as he sinks back down in his chair. “But for the record, I’m not making out with Tate.”

“You wish.” I tuck in my shirt, trying to regain my composure.