12. Donovan
TWELVE
DONOVAN
“The game, in honor of my new friend Beckett—sorry, Beck ,” Kingston says with a nod in my direction, “is Texas Hold ‘Em. Ante up.” He gets Beck to cut and deals each of us two cards.
I glance at Sergio to my right, who looks a little lost. “Put a chip in the pot. Price of admission to play.”
“Right,” he says, following my lead and dropping a chip in the center of the table. “I’m not really a poker player.”
“We’ll talk you through it,” Kingston says cheerfully. He’s to my left, which means Beck is across the table from me. He takes a brief glance at his cards, but his face doesn’t change. Which is weird. I’ve gotten to know a lot of Beck’s expressions over the past week. He doesn’t usually hide how he’s feeling, but maybe he has something else on his mind.
Kingston lays the first card face up on the table. “Beck bets first.”
“Check,” Beck says calmly.
“What’s that?” Sergio asks.
“We’re just getting warmed up, so you can say check,” Kingston explains.
“Check,” he says obediently.
I look at my cards for the first time. Ace of diamonds and four of clubs, with a king of hearts on the table. “Check.”
“And I check,” Kingston says. He lays the ten of diamonds next to the king.
We all check again. The third card Kingston lays down is the ace of spades. Now we’re talking. I’ve got a pair of aces, which isn’t amazing, but it’s better than nothing. Beck drops two chips into the pot.
While Kingston explains to Sergio what his options are, I watch Beck. He’s ostensibly paying attention to the action on the table, but again he seems subdued. I wonder if Kingston said something to upset him when they were in the kitchen earlier? I went in search of the plates in time to see Kingston putting his arm around Beck and call him sweet. Was that some kind of pass?
Dinner before the game was friendly enough, with Beck asking Sergio all sorts of questions about the house he’s putting up for sale. Beck seemed particularly interested in getting real estate agent recommendations from both Kingston and Sergio. Which seems strange.
“You know what? I fold,” Sergio says. I tune back into Beck laughing lightly and realize this is going to be a long game if we have to hold Sergio’s hand through every play.
“I’m in,” I say, because why not? We’re not playing for real money. I’m a decent player, but I know Kingston takes his game pretty seriously. We’ll all stay friends if it’s just for fun.
“I will stay in as well,” Kingston says, matching Beck’s bet. We get a four of hearts on the turn. Now I have two pair. Beck studies me for a moment before he starts off with five chips. He could have pocket pairs of something on the table and beat me with three of a kind, but what do I have to lose? I stay in. Kingston looks at his cards and considers for a moment, then folds.
The river card is the two of diamonds, which is no help. Beck stays steady, dropping five chips in the pot. I’ve gone this far, so I call. “Let’s see what you got.”
“Oh, just a straight,” Beck says modestly, showing me his queen of spades and jack of hearts. Matching up with the ace, king, and ten, he’s got my two pair beat handily.
“That’s a good hand, right?” Sergio says.
I laugh. “I’ll say. Beats me.” I reveal my ace and four while Beck rakes in his chips. “Nice job.”
He grins. “You, too. Thanks for staying in.”
Kingston hoots. “This is going to be a more interesting game than I thought. I should have known you’d be a ringer.”
“Lots of hot summer days growing up in Texas—we had to pass the time somehow,” Beck says with a shrug.
Damn. He’s good at poker, too. Shouldn’t be surprising. And shouldn’t be so appealing.
But it is.
With Kingston coaching Sergio, his game improves after a couple of hands. I’m feeling like I could use some lessons myself. My chips are dwindling while Beck’s clearly leading the pack. Then Kingston takes a big pot and they’re about even. Sergio goes all in on a pair of kings and loses to Kingston’s full house. He gets up from the table with a rueful smile. “Anyone want anything else to drink?”
I switched to beer after my first glass of champagne. It did taste better in Beck’s classy vintage glasses, but I’m more of a beer guy, anyway. “I’ll take another beer,” I say.
“Oh, what about dessert?” Beck jumps up. “Can we pause for a minute?”
“It’s your deal, so you’re the boss,” Kingston says.
“Need any help?” I ask Beck.
He looks a little surprised at my offer. “Sure.”
I stand up, crack my neck after sitting so long, and trail Beck to the kitchen. “What have you got cooked up for us?”
“I made mini chocolate chocolate chip cookies earlier, but I just remembered we have vanilla ice cream, too. Want to get out the bowls?”
He softens the ice cream in the microwave, and I get out bowls and spoons. I steal one of the half-dollar-sized cookies from the rack and bite into it. Rich chocolate chunks are studded throughout the chewy cookie, and I smack my lips. “These are amazing.”
“Yeah?” Beck perks up. “I was getting sick of ginger and cinnamon, sorry.”
I laugh, glad it’s not just me who was ready for a change. “Variety is good. And I love chocolate.”
“You can’t go wrong with a chocolate chocolate chip cookie. I made them mini so we can eat a bunch and not feel like we’re overdoing it.”
“Brilliant.” I watch as Beck assembles four bowls of ice cream and sticks two cookies artfully in each scoop. “You’ve got a cookie gift, you know.”
“Do I?”
“But you’re also a poker shark. Is there anything you aren’t good at?”
Beck puts a hand on his chin and pretends to think. “Organic chemistry. Pretending to be nice to people whose politics turn my stomach. The butterfly stroke. But maybe that’s it.”
“If that’s it, then I think you’re doing pretty well.”
“It doesn’t feel like it on some days,” he says, losing some of the joy from his face.
I scoot closer. “Are you okay? Are you not having fun tonight—I can send those guys home if you want.”
“No, I’m having fun. Beating you at poker is surprisingly satisfying,” Beck says, and I believe him. “Maybe I’m just tired. Being on permanent vacation is hard work.”
I frown. “Permanent vacation?”
“I’m just kind of sick of not knowing what I’m doing with my life. Everyone else has it figured out, and I’m this cliche of a twentysomething with no direction. And I can’t even look for a job right now because I have to be here this summer.”
“Do you want to leave?” The idea of Beck going off and leaving me alone in this big house makes my chest ache unexpectedly.
“No, I love it here. But I have to admit that I’ve been running away from making any decisions about my life, and being here is not helping. Instead, it’s making me realize that I want the stability that Pete and Jack have—I want the beautiful house, I want to spend my days doing something I love. Hell, I even want the dog. But as long as I keep pretending I don’t know what I want, I can put off the hard work of actually figuring out how to get it.”
“Sounds like you’re getting tired of pretending.”
He stares at me for a second. “Yeah. I guess I am.”
“You’re wrong about one thing, though. You think everyone else has their lives figured out? Look at me. I don’t have a place to live or even my next job lined up. I’m pretending to write a play, so I don’t have to admit I’m scared I’m never going to work as an actor again.”
“What do you mean? Of course you will.”
“Every actor thinks they’re never going to work again when they’re between jobs. It’s part of the existential angst of one’s profession being predicated on other people telling you they want you, and most of the time hearing they don’t.” It took time to grow a thick enough skin to keep going, and now that I’ve worked steadily for a while, it feels ungrateful to not be sure I even want to keep doing it.
“So you’re a mess, too,” Beck says. “That actually does make me feel better. Thanks.”
Making Beck feel better is infinitely more satisfying than winning a hand of poker against him. “Anytime. We can be messy together.”
He turns away abruptly, grabbing two of the dessert bowls. “Come on, they’re melting.”
I feel like I’ve said the wrong thing, which is annoying after feeling like I actually did something good for a second there.
But just when I think I’ve figured Beck out, there’s always more to learn.