Chapter 30
Cherry
Sean was furious with Cherry, and she knew exactly why. It wasn’t the dinner with Campbell. She’s persuaded him on that front. No, he was furious with her because Campbell had intimated that she’d been chatting about their personal life to him.
And she could see exactly why it looked that way. She would need to talk to him later and tell him exactly what had gone down, that Campbell had read between the lines of barely any information on her part.
Campbell could stick his dinner. Although, she’d need to find another way to get the money to the charity.
One thing to be pleased about was the tournament turnout.
Over one hundred players were in the distillery.
From the sidelines, scores of Kinshore locals watched, alongside photographers from poker publications and local newspapers.
Freelance paparazzi and social media influencers were clamouring outside to get snaps of Connor, Campbell and Cara.
It was priceless publicity for the charity.
But as she sat at her table with a mixture of locals and professionals, Cherry was struggling to think of much except Sean. He was chatting animatedly with his table buddies. She willed him to look at her.
It took some time, but as the table hushed for play to begin, for the briefest of moments, their eyes met and emerald flint bored into her. Then he bent his head down. No smile. No nod. Nothing.
Cherry let out a ragged breath. Okay, she’d played on tilt plenty of times. Gone to the table upset and compartmentalised. Why did this feel so different? Why was this like the entire world, not only the room, was tilting under her?
The dealer – a local man called Gordon – dealt the first hand, but Cherry could barely look at her cards, never mind consider how to play them.
For the first twenty minutes, she was on autopilot, folding numerous hands, even those she might normally call or raise on, and then she started overcompensating and calling without thought. All she could think about was Sean.
He appeared to be completely focused on his game as if, by giving it his full attention, he was punishing her. But, like someone doling out a physical lashing, she could see the tension in the way he held himself. He hated this, too. Had to.
It broke her heart. He’d given her so much, and now he thought she’d betrayed him.
As she was folding another unremarkable hand, Jamie’s voice cut through the speaker system. ‘Sean Butler and Campbell Duff to Table Three.’
Table Three. That was her table. Sean and Campbell were being reallocated to her table.
Cherry watched them approach, Campbell hobbling across the room on his crutches, supposedly oblivious to being watched, Sean more interested in greeting some locals on the way and updating them on how he was getting on.
As they converged, Campbell nudged Sean. ‘Alright, pal. Looking forward to this.’
Cherry cringed, but an unflustered Sean took a seat with no more than a nod and an ‘aye’ in response.
Folding her fingers together, Cherry rested her chin on her hands, watching her husband settle into the table, smoothly stacking his chips with those beautiful strong hands.
For a moment, his eyes glanced over hers but not long enough for anything to be said.
They were strangers here. This was the side of him she’d seen during the poker game at the cooperage, and it was strong.
Tenacious. Focused. Determined.
Cherry kept her composure. She could do this. She’d been here a thousand times before with tenacious players.
But not when the tenacious player was her pissed-off husband.
Campbell sipped his whisky as if he were sitting on top of a mountain being filmed for an ad. Cherry tried not to let it distract her.
Come on. Focus. Win.
But she couldn’t care less about winning the tournament, or even this table. All she wanted was Sean.
Out of the tournament, Cara came over to the table. ‘Why so serious, Seany?’
‘Just concentrating, Car’. Try it.’ He at least gave his sister a smile.
‘How’s it going, Cara?’ Cherry asked her sister-in-law.
‘I’m loving this event,’ Cara said. ‘You excited about winning?’
Cherry smiled and shrugged. ‘It’s anyone’s game.’
‘I think we know it’s your game,’ Campbell said. ‘But don’t take it for granted, Chez.’
This got a flick of the eyes from Sean to Campbell. Cherry shifted in her seat. Campbell calling her by a random nickname from a decade ago was not great when Sean was at the table.
Not that Campbell noticed. For a man who made a living by pretending to be other people, he was disarmingly oblivious to the human psyche today.
As they played, Cherry found her rhythm again. She won a few small pots, boosting her own confidence. Her focus wasn’t where it normally was, but for a celeb pro-am tourney, it was possibly enough. She took in her latest hand. Jack and ten of spades. Not great but not awful.
Everyone called, and the flop came down as the king of diamonds, queen of clubs and queen of spades. A board abundant with the promise of a straight or even a flush for Cherry.
She checked to keep the action moving. She had a heavy suspicion that, with Campbell in the game, a raise here was not necessary. He would do all the work on that front.
And she was right. He shoved a heavy stack of chips forward without hesitation. Possibly, he had a king or a queen, or even pocket queens or kings, giving four of a kind or a full house. Or he was he bluffing hard, like he used to do.
Smoothly, Sean called, his eyes never leaving Campbell. He could also have big pairs.
And seeing him win with those was infinitely preferable to seeing Campbell rake in the chips.
Everyone else folded and Cherry called the bet.
The turn brought the six of hearts.
‘All in,’ Campbell said after a brief pause, pushing his stack forward with the smirk of a man who was certain he was the winner here. What the hell had the six brought him? Did he have pocket sixes and now a full house?
Cherry thought for a while. She could keep playing in the hope that a nine or an ace came up to give her that straight. Or she could fold and let the two men rough this out. They both seemed so confident. One of them could very well have a big hand.
She folded. Watching this play out could be enjoyable.
Sean barely blinked before calling. She dearly hoped he wasn’t bluffing because Campbell as a gloating winner was not something she wanted to witness.
The river brought another six. Clubs this time.
Campbell, with a solemn expression, turned over the King of clubs and King of spades. ‘Full house, baby.’ He leaned back in his seat like he was the king of the world.
But then Sean flipped up his cards, and everything changed. Oh, thank God.
He had pocket sixes.
Which meant he had four sixes. The two on the board and the two in his hand. Four of a kind. Beating a full house and, more importantly, beating Campbell.
Yes, yes, yes. You beautiful man!
Campbell’s grin faltered as he realised his monster hand was nothing more than a butterfly.
Cherry could have jumped up and kissed Sean. But, unlike the day he’d won at Swingball, her husband was all composure and restraint. Calmly, he slid the mountain of chips to his side of the table, like he knew he deserved this win but would not be making a song and dance about it.
In contrast, trying to mask his bruised ego, Campbell shifted in his seat. ‘Nice hand, big man.’
‘Thanks, Pal.’ Sean’s retort was quick, and Cherry could swear he was suppressing amusement. She almost laughed out loud. He’d handed Campbell his arse on a plate, and for that she was so proud.
‘Ach, well, now that I can get lashed, I’m going to get a drink.’ Campbell stood up, scanning the room. ‘We’re still on for that dinner, aye?’ He placed his hand on Cherry’s shoulder.
She spoke stiffly. ‘I’ll talk to you after.’
Briefly, Sean glanced at her, before turning back to his chips. He obviously didn’t know that she meant giving Campbell a piece of her mind. After the game, she would need to find him and explain.
It was Sean and Cherry left on the table now, but Jamie didn’t make the call for them to sit at other tables. Heads-up it was.
Cherry’s hand was queen-jack suited. Spades again. She slid some chips into the centre of the table and tried not to be too distracted by her smouldering husband opposite her, chewing his lip and examining his cards.
She’d seen him chew his lip like that before, been stopped dead by it at home.
He did it when he was looking in the fridge, staring out the window deciding whether the surf was decent, examining the sky for clouds to see if his bike ride would be rained on.
She’d even watched him do it this morning as she’d come down the stairs. He was contemplating. Uncertain.
Which probably meant his cards weren’t a dead cert.
But he pushed in a pile of chips, raising her. Like some kind of metaphor for their marriage. Raise big, even if you don’t know what the cards hold.
Playing poker, not metaphors, Cherry called. The flop of the jack of diamonds, eight of hearts and three of clubs gave her a pair of jacks – decent, but nothing spectacular. Although playing against amateurs, it could be enough.
But Sean raised again, inviting her to do the same. Why had he been so worried before the flop? Was it a bluff to confuse her?
She called.
The turn of the five of spades put nothing definitive on the board. Again, Sean raised, so she called once more. He could have a pocket pair, giving him three of a kind. He was raising with such confidence.
The river was the two of clubs, and Sean went all in. There was a strong possibility that he had a straight now, aces low.
Either that, or there was something else going on here. She hadn’t known Sean long, but she knew some things about him. About his heart. About how much he was prepared to give to her, but also that he had a limit. This behaviour was a strange mix of both.
She called and flipped over her queen and jack pair.
Sean did the same to reveal a nine of diamonds and a six of clubs. No straight. Just a hardcore bluff from the start. Like he was quite prepared to hand the game to her if it made a point.
Gordon slid the winning stack of chips across the table to Cherry.
Sean stood up, gave Gordon a friendly clap on the back.
‘Cheers, Gordy.’ He pushed his chair in, walked round to Cherry’s seat.
Standing behind her, he leaned in and spoke into her ear, his breath warm and soft.
‘Well played, Paradise.’ Tenderly, he kissed her on the cheek, stubble bristling assuredly over her skin, sending a shiver through her soul.
And then he walked away. His words holding no weight whatsoever. She hadn’t played well at all. He’d given the game to her like he was all out of fucks. Let her take it but shown her what she’d lost in the process.
The one thing that mattered more than anything else.
Him.
Two hours later, and out of the tournament herself, Cherry looked around the room for Sean but found only Campbell.
‘Commiserations, Chez. That was a bad beat you had there.’
Cherry couldn’t care less about the bad beat.
‘Gives you more time to get your bags packed for Edinburgh,’ Campbell added. ‘I can have the helicopter ready to leave, whenever you are.’
‘I’m not coming to Edinburgh, Campbell.’
‘Ah. Problem?’
‘Yes. I’m not doing this to Sean.’
‘Doing what? He said he was fine with it.’
‘Of course he bloody said that. You left him no choice. I would have thought that a sensitive actor such as yourself would be able to read the body language to see that neither of us were comfortable with the situation. Also, that comment about painting the nursery. Seriously! Our conversation the other day was in confidence.’
Campbell straighted on his crutches. ‘Och, sorry. It won’t mean anything to anyone. And I meant it about the money – and when I said his dad’s whisky is awesome.’
‘Well, it meant something to Sean, and he’s fuming. I honestly think the least you can do is pay the amount you said you would to the charity. That’s five hundred, by the way.’
‘So, you are coming to dinner?’
‘No. I’m not. I’m going home with my husband.
Don’t worry, you can make the donation public.
Think how good it will be for your image.
Who knows, it might even put you on the map to be the next face of Butler’s.
But I’m not coming with you tonight. This isn’t some movie.
It’s my life – my marriage – and it matters to me. ’
Campbell puffed and nodded. ‘Alright then. You always did know how to wind me round your finger. I’ll make the donation and see if there’s anyone nice here who wants to come to dinner instead.’
Cherry resisted the temptation to suggest he seek out Shona and Elaine.
Instead, she gave her attention to finding Sean.
But there was no sign. There hadn’t been for some time now.
One of the reasons she’d busted out was because her focus was divided between the game and where her husband was.
Every time she lifted her head, he was nowhere to be seen.
A bolt of lightning – white and razor sharp – cut across the sky outside, followed by the loaded rumble of thunder.
Where was he?
Amidst a media frenzy for her attention, Cherry posed for some photographs, forcing happiness onto her face.
Give them soundbites, say things about the charity, present the right image. It’s all about image.
But her mind was on Sean. Where was he? Where was her husband?
‘What made you decide to organise a charity poker tournament for MND fundraising?’
‘Do you plan to do anything else to raise funds for MND?’
‘I believe you used to date Campbell Duff? Is there tension with your ex and new husband being in the same room?’
Where is Sean? Where is Sean? Where is Sean?
Cherry answered the questions as politely as she could. And when she got away, the rain now thundering down outside, she found Jamie.
‘Jamie, where’s Sean?’
‘I’m not sure.’ Jamie checked the room once, then back again, the second time his eyes settling on the window. He paused, and Cherry watched as something changed on his face. A darkening in his eyes.
‘What?’
‘Fuck!’ Jamie swept his hand through his hair. ‘He wouldn’t.’
Cherry didn’t know what Jamie was getting at, but her first thought was that Sean – never one to walk away from a challenge – probably would.
She followed Jamie’s eye line to the window.
To the rain teeming down, to the dark smoky skies, to the enormous waves churning into the shoreline far in the distance.
Huge, gnarly waves.
Surf that was going off.
Storm of the year.
He wouldn’t.
But Cherry knew he would.
She turned to Jamie.
‘He’s gone surfing, hasn’t he? He’s actually gone surfing in this fucking weather.’
Jamie nodded. ‘Aye.’ He thought for a moment, pressed his tongue into his cheek and took a deep breath. ‘Shit. Right, come on. I’ll drive.’