Walking Disaster
“A full house? What the f**k?” Trenton cried.
“Sorry. I’ve always wanted to say that,” Abby said, giggling as she pulled in her chips.
Thomas’s eyes narrowed. “This isn’t just beginner’s luck. She plays.”
I watched Thomas for a moment. He wasn’t taking his eyes from Abby.
I looked to her, then. “Have you played before, Pidge?”
She pressed her lips together and shrugged, letting a sweet smile turn up the corners of her mouth. My head fell back, and I burst into laughter. I started to tell her how proud I was, but the words were held hostage by the uncontrollable cackling shaking my entire body. I hit the table with my fist a few times, trying to get a hold of myself.
“Your girlfriend just f**king hustled us!” Taylor said, pointing in my direction.
“NO FUCKING WAY!” Trenton wailed, standing up.
“Good plan, Travis. Bring a card shark to poker night,” Dad said, winking at Abby.
“I didn’t know!” I said, shaking my head.
“Bullshit,” Thomas said, his eyes still dissecting my girlfriend.
“I didn’t!” I said.
“I hate to say it, bro. But I think I just fell in love with your girl,” Tyler said.
Suddenly my laughter was gone, and I frowned. “Hey, now.”
“That’s it. I was going easy on you, Abby, but I’m winning my money back, now,” Trenton warned.
I sat out the last few rounds, watching the boys try to win back their money. Hand after hand, Abby steamrolled them. She didn’t even pretend to go easy on them.
Once my brothers were broke, Dad called it a night, and Abby returned a hundred dollars to each of them, except Dad, who wouldn’t take it.
I took Abby’s hand, and we walked to the door. Watching my girlfriend de-sack my brothers was entertaining, but I was still disappointed that she returned some of their money.
She squeezed my hand. “What’s wrong?”
“You just gave away four hundred bucks, Pidge!”
“If this was poker night at Sig Tau, I would have kept it. I can’t rob your brothers the first time I meet them.”
“They would have kept your money!”
“And I wouldn’t have lost a second of sleep over it, either,” Taylor sa id.
From the corner of my eye, I caught Thomas staring at Abby from the recliner in the corner of the living room. He’d been even more quiet than usual.
“Why do you keep starin’ at my girl, Tommy?”
“What did you say your last name was?” Thomas asked.
Abby shifted nervously but didn’t answer.
I put my arm around her waist, and turned to my brother, not sure what he was getting at. He thought he knew something, and was getting ready to make his move.
“It’s Abernathy. What of it?”
“I can see why you didn’t put it together before tonight, Trav, but now you don’t have an excuse,” Thomas said, smug.
“What the f**k are you talking about?” I asked.
“Are you related to Mick Abernathy by any chance?” Thomas asked.
All heads turned to wait for Abby’s response.
She raked her hair back with her fingers, clearly nervous. “How do you know Mick?”
My neck craned even more in her direction. “He’s only one of the best poker players that ever lived. Do you know him?”
“He’s my father,” she said. It looked almost painful for her to answer.
The entire room exploded.
“NO FUCKING WAY!”
“I KNEW IT!”
“WE JUST PLAYED MICK ABERNATHY’S DAUGHTER!”
“MICK ABERNATHY? HOLY SHIT!”
The words rang in my ears, but it still took me several seconds to process. Three of my brothers were jumping up and down and screaming, but to me the entire room was frozen, and the world silent.
My girlfriend, who also happened to be my best friend, was the daughter of a poker legend—someone my brothers, father, and even my grandfather idolized.
Abby’s voice brought me back to the present. “I told you guys I shouldn’t play.”
“If you would have mentioned you were Mick Abernathy’s daughter, I think we would have taken you more seriously,” Thomas said.
Abby peeked over at me from under her lashes, waiting for a reaction.
“You’re Lucky Thirteen?” I asked, dumbfounded.
Trenton stood and pointed. “Lucky Thirteen is in our house! No way! I don’t f**king believe it!”
“That was the nickname the papers gave me. And the story wasn’t exactly accurate,” Abby said, fidgeting.
Even amid the booming commotion from my brothers, the only thing I could think about was how f**king hot it was that the girl I’m in love with was practically a celebrity. Even better, she was famous for something outrageously badass.
“I need to get Abby home, guys,” I said.
Dad peered at Abby over his glasses. “Why wasn’t it accurate?”
“I didn’t take my dad’s luck. I mean, how ridiculous.” She chuckled, twisting her hair nervously around her finger.
Thomas shook his head. “No, Mick gave that interview. He said at midnight on your thirteenth birthday his luck ran dry.”
“And yours picked up,” I added.
“You were raised by mobsters!” Trent said, smiling with excitement.
“Uh . . . no.” She laughed once. “They didn’t raise me. They were just . . . around a lot.”
“That was a damn shame, Mick running your name through the mud like that in all the papers. You were just a kid,” Dad said, shaking his head.
“If anything it was beginner’s luck,” Abby said.
I could tell by the look on her face she was bordering on feeling mortification from all of the attention.
“You were taught by Mick Abernathy,” Dad said, shaking his head in awe. “You were playing pros, and winning, at thirteen years old for Christ’s sakes.” He looked at me and smiled. “Don’t bet against her, son. She doesn’t lose.”
My mind instantly returned to the fight when Abby bet against me, knowing she would lose, and have to live with me for a month if she did. All that time I thought she didn’t care about me, and just then I realized it couldn’t have been true.
“Uh . . . we gotta go, Dad. Bye, guys.”
I raced through the streets, weaving in and out of traffic. The faster the needle inched up on the speedometer, the tighter Abby’s thighs clamped, making me even more eager to reach the apartment.
Abby didn’t say a word when I parked the Harley and led her upstairs, and still wasn’t speaking when I helped her with her jacket.
She let her hair down, and I stood, watching her in awe. It was almost like she was a different person, and I couldn’t wait to get my hands on her.
“I know you’re mad,” she said, her eyes to the floor. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, but it’s not something I talk about.”
Her words stunned me. “Mad at you? I am so turned on I can’t see straight. You just robbed my ass**le brothers of their money without batting an eyelash, you have achieved legend status with my father, and I know for a fact that you purposely lost that bet we made before my fight.”
“I wouldn’t say that . . .”
“Did you think you were going to win?”
“Well . . . no, not exactly,” she said, pulling off her heels.