2. Miller
Five bucks says Cam is going to call my bluff.
I’m looking at a pair of threes and a king high. I have no business staying in this hand. But I love taking their money, and if I can do it when I don’t even deserve it? Even better.
“Fold,” he says, tossing his cards on the table.
I don’t react, even though I’m surprised. Of all the people at this table, Cam can usually read me better than anyone. Maybe he’s tired.
Sure enough, he yawns, right on cue as he leans back in his seat. “Sorry. Addie kept me up late last night.” He shrugs.
I smirk as Maddox slugs Cam in the shoulder.
“That’s my sister, man. Have some respect.” Maddox frowns as he studies his cards and calls my bet.
Poker games like this are rare these days. It used to be that the four of us got together at least once a week to play, but since Lawton left for the police academy a few years ago, Maddox married Holly and Cam shacked up with Addie—Maddox’s sister, as Maddox keeps reminding us all—our group is shrinking.
Blake and I are the only confirmed bachelors left, and I’m starting to feel… something.
It’s not that I don’t love my life. Who wouldn’t love this? Twenty-nine, single, and making a decent living playing poker. This is the dream. No office to go into every morning. No reason not to stay out at the bars late.
I mentioned this to my mom last night. We talk on the phone a few nights a week, if not more often because yeah, I’m a mama’s boy. You would be, too, if your mom was as awesome as Lori Quinlan. She’s one of my best friends, and she gives great advice.
Her advice this time was to change it up. Go somewhere or do something different. Maybe spend the summer outside of Philadelphia.
She may be on to something, but I feel like our group is falling apart as the guys drop off one by one, falling to the call of true love or whatever it is they’re doing. Once Blake finds a girl, it’ll be just me.
Maybe that’s really what’s bugging me. The idea that they could all find their happily-ever-afters and I’ll be the lone guy left behind.
“You ever think about doing something different?” I ask offhandedly, studying my cards.
The three of them stare at me.
“No,” Maddox says.
Cam frowns. “Not really.”
Blake is the only one who looks thoughtful. I wonder if he’s contemplating life the same way I am.
“Why do you ask?” Maddox pushes chips into the center of the table.
I shrug as I raise the bet again, still bluffing. “Just feeling bored, I guess. Like I need something different in my life.”
“So go to Vegas. Enter a big tournament or something.”
I could, but that’s not exactly the change I was thinking of. “Maybe. I was thinking something… not poker related, I guess. I love the game, but I feel like I need a new challenge. You know?”
“Try convincing a girl to go out with you,” Maddox mutters. “That’ll take some of your focus away from the game.” He spent a couple of months trying to get Holly to go out with him once they found out their parents were getting married to one another. Eventually, she caved, and they’re deliriously in love and blissfully happy.
“Go on a cruise?” Cam suggests, a smirk on his face. “Maybe Maddox has another sister that he can send with you.”
The comment earns Cam an elbow to the ribs. He winces.
Play passes around the table again as the last community card is laid out, each of us getting a turn to raise or match the bet. I don’t push this time, but I stay in while Maddox and Blake fold, leaving me the winner without having to show my hand.
But there’s no thrill of the win. It’s all just… the same. Every hand is different, but it’s the same thing, over and over. Maybe that’s what growing up is, though. You get good at something, and you just do it again and again and again, while you think about how much fun it used to be.
God, am I having a mid-life crisis? Can you have one of those if you’re not even thirty yet?
Maddox deals another round of cards, and I study them. Once again, I have nothing.
I hate this moody feeling. I’m not usually like this. I’m the guy everyone loves—always happy and joking around, always the one to lighten the situation. I’m a fucking blast to hang out with, if I do say so myself. And I say it. A lot.
I’m not even in the mood to bluff this time. I fold, tossing my cards down just as my phone vibrates with a text. Mom flashes across the screen.
“I’m going to answer this,” I tell the guys, standing from the table.
Maddox gives me a nod as he raises the bet.
“Tell Mama Quinlan I said hi,” Blake chimes. He loves my mom. The guys all do.
I step into the kitchen and rummage through Blake’s cabinets, coming up with a bag of pretzels. I toss two in my mouth as I swipe open Mom’s message.
Mom
I thought of something you could do for a change this summer!
Hmm. It’s entirely possible her idea has something to do with coming home, or with someone she remembers from twenty years ago, but I’ll consider just about anything. And Mom has had some good ideas in her time.
I dial her number as I pop another salty pretzel in my mouth. God, these things are amazing.
“Hey, sweetie!” Mom says as soon as she picks up. “How are you doing? Am I interrupting anything?”
I swallow my mouthful. “No, not at all. I called you, remember?”
She pauses. “What are you eating?”
“Pretzels. Sorry.” I should have known better than to be chewing when I dialed her number. Mom almost always answers on the first ring.
“No worries. I didn’t think you liked pretzels.”
I pop another in my mouth. “They’re Blake’s.”
“Oh, shit, did I interrupt poker?” Mom has never been shy about cursing in front of us. When we were little, the rules were that we could curse, too, as long as we knew the rules: no swearing at school or at Grandma’s house. We did that, we lost the privilege of using those words.
“Nah,” I say between the crunching. “I folded a shitty hand right before you texted me. And I called you, remember? What’s up?”
“You remember Eileen Morton?”
I do not. One of her friends from the bowling league?
“No. Why?” All the pretzels are making me thirsty. I open the fridge to see if Blake has anything good in here.
“She’s part of my bridge club.” Close enough. “Her son went to high school with you. Brett?”
Now that rings a bell. “Brett Morton? Yeah. We played lacrosse together. He’s a good man. How’s he doing?”
“Well, he’s working up in New Hampshire right now. At a summer camp. Eileen mentioned that they need more counselors for the summer.” She pauses expectantly.
I’m not sure what this has to do with me, but she must have some kind of angle. “And?”
“Well, aren’t you looking for a change of scenery for a while? It’s a limited-time engagement, so it’s not like you’re committing yourself to a full-time job or something. Just a thought.” I can almost picture her shrug.
Thinking, I pull a root beer out of Blake’s fridge. He’s got the good kind that comes in glass bottles. I twist off the top and take a long sip. “I like the thought, but I’m not exactly an outdoor type. How would I even figure out who’s in charge up there?”
My phone vibrates against my ear.
“Brett’s in charge. He’s the camp director. Anyway, I sent his contact info to your phone. Eileen gave it to me. How’s everything else going? You need any more scented candles? They’re having a sale at the outlet next week.”
You know the stereotype of the nagging mom, the one you can’t wait to get off the phone? The one who’s pushy, won’t let things go? Yeah, Mom is the opposite. And I love her for it.
We move on to talking about home furnishings and scented candles while I consider the idea of summer camp. I’m not exactly an outdoor kind of guy, the ones you see in the L.L. Bean catalog wearing flannel and hiking boots and standing on top of a cliff.
But I’m looking for something different than my usual, and summer camp would certainly be that.
I’m still not exactly sold, but I do wonder how Brett is doing. I haven’t talked to him in forever, maybe since college? I remember running into him at one of our hometown bars in upstate New York when we were home for Thanksgiving one year. I should give him a call to say hi.
“You coming?” Blake calls from the living room, reminding me of the game.
“Shoot, I should go, Mom. The guys are calling me back to the game. I’ll talk to you soon, okay?”
“Oh, sure, honey. Can I say hi to them before you go?”
“Sure. Putting you on speaker.” I bring my phone and the root beer into the living room. “Mom wants to say hi before I hang up.”
“Hey, Mrs. Quinlan,” Maddox says.
Cam waves toward the phone. “Hi, Mama Q!”
“Hey, Lori! I’m kicking your son’s ass today. He’s down to his last few chips,” Blake adds with a grin. I give him the finger.
Mom laughs. “Good luck, boys. Take him for everything he’s got. Miller, talk to you later.” With that, she ends the call, and I slide the phone back in my pocket.
“Where were we?” I ask, slipping into my seat.
Cam deals out a new round of cards. Even though I’m staring at a great hand, a pair of queens, the usual zing of excitement just isn’t there. No rush of adrenaline as I think about how best to raise the bet.
It’s just cards. Great cards, maybe, but at the end of the day this is all a game.
And I’m starting to wonder if what I need in my life isn’t just a change… but something more.
* * *
I light a pine-scented candle and settle on the sofa, TV remote in hand. Today’s poker game was a bust. The only hands I won were full-on bluffs. I’m great at those because for some reason I don’t entirely understand, people don’t think this sweet face can lie.
I mean, I don’t, not much. Just in poker.
I’m about to start watching HGTV when I remember my conversation with Mom. I should give Brett a call while I’m thinking of it. I find the shared contact that my mom sent and save the number, then hit Call.
“Camp Winnie, Brett Morton,” he answers. God, we’re old if this is how we answer phones these days.
I clear my throat. “Brett, hey. It’s Miller Quinlan. Your mother gave my mom your number. It’s been too long, man.”
“Miller? Shit, man, it’s been forever. How are you? It’s great to hear from you.”
I stand up and wander into the kitchen while we shoot the shit. Every time I’m on the phone, I seem to find myself heading to the kitchen. I think I got into the habit at some point, and now when I talk on the phone, I get hungry.
“I’m good, man. My mom said you’re working up in New Hampshire now. What have you been up to since I last saw you? When was that, college?” I root through the fridge.
“Life is good. I got married a few years ago, and we’re expecting our first kid around Thanksgiving.”
“No shit? That’s awesome, man!” I can’t believe I’m old enough that my friends are doing adult things. Maybe I really do need a change in my life. While Brett has been adulting and getting married and procreating, I’m over here doing the same thing I used to do in the college dorms.
To be fair, back in college my winnings barely bought me a case of beer here and there, while now I make enough between tournament wins and sponsorships to fully support myself. And I’m lucky to be able to do this for a career. My recent mindset of feeling stagnant, though, is making me see things differently than I usually do.
“Thanks. We’re excited. Scared shitless, but excited. What have you been up to?” he asks.
There’s nothing in the fridge that looks appetizing. It’s all the same.
“I’m playing poker for a living. It’s been great, but I think I’m ready for a change.” I push my hair out of my eyes. “Mom said you might be looking for camp counselors, actually. Think you’d have a spot for me?”
The laugh that echoes through the phone wasn’t exactly the reaction I’d been expecting. “You want to come be a camp counselor? It’s kind of a thankless job, man. Especially at our age. And it doesn’t pay much. I don’t know how much a professional poker player makes, but I can pretty much guarantee it’s more than a counselor here.”
I do not need to be reminded of our age. Midlife crisis and all that. “How hard can it be? I need something new in my life. A new challenge or something. And I do okay as a pro poker player. Enough that I’m not worried about the salary. More just looking for a new experience.”
Brett started laughing as soon as I asked how hard this job can be, and I can still hear the laughter in his voice. “You’d be surprised. It’s tough, there’s no doubt about it. I mean, I am looking for a few more counselors, and camp starts in a week and a half, so I’m down to the wire here. I’m just not sure you could handle it.”
“Hey, I can handle anything. Remember when I lost the bet that I could get Leah Baker to go to homecoming with me? She said no and you guys made me shave my legs. If you recall, I handled that okay.”
Not my proudest moment. The fact that I’d shaved my legs made it around school by the next day, conveniently without the information that I did it because I lost a bet. My bare legs were the butt of every joke for my entire freshman lacrosse season.
And I still didn’t have a date for the dance.
Brett roars with laughter. “Oh, fuck, I forgot all about that. You still shave?”
“I’m not going to dignify that with a response.” And no, I do not. I manscape, but that’s it. And the ladies have no complaints.
“Ah, fuck, those were good times.” His laughter fades slightly. “It’d be great to see you, but here’s the thing. This job is hard, and it sucks sometimes. But you think you can do it? I’ll make you a bet.”
My ears perk up.
“You come work as a counselor. I don’t think you’ll last a week. You make it the whole summer, I’ll never bring up the shaved legs thing again. You bail before the end of the summer, your salary goes into the campership fund. It’s like a scholarship for kids whose parents can’t afford camp on their own.”
Aw, fuck. That pulls at my heartstrings a little.
“So, what do you say? You going to take the bet?”