Secret's Story: Memory 1
Here's a short story I wrote for my sona. I wanted to make this into a series where I write a specific number of "memories" that would attempt to encapsulate the character's identity. My sona will go first but I have more characters I'd love to write about!
Strumming his fingers on the felt surface, the goat tried not to let the skeptical stares from the other men get to him. His head was perched on top of his paw, whose elbow was smashed into the table. His fingers continued to be drummed in an uneasy fashion as if the kid couldn't hold a simple rhythm. With his white fur and dark painted nails, his fingers looked like piano keys. Half of the time, this melody started with his pinky and ran up to the ring. Breaking the pattern, his middle finger quivering mid air, the goat would go back down the scale: ring to pinky.
He checked the cards again.
"You know that using your mommy's money to play doesn't make you better," a voice chortled from across the table.
A hesitant chuckle arose from the other men.
The stocky fox who made this remark turned to the dealer. "Can you start the timer? He's taking forever." The dealer nodded and tapped a button on his watch.
"You have a minute, Mr. Wolfe." The dealer responded in a polite but serious tone and the goat nodded.
"He's not old enough to qualify as that."
More reluctant chuckling.
Another look at his cards.
The goat had just turned old enough to start playing in official casinos. 16. His parents had celebrated by taking him to what was called a "Midway," which was a stylized gambling house designed to get teens hooked on the lifestyle. The goat was insulted but wouldn't say it. Instead of going to the Midway, where his parents thought he was, the goat had been hopping from table to table for the last four hours. He ran the two miles in his tight purple blazer and slacks to a big, but not too big, casino further away from the center of town. He was still wearing his uniform as it began to get dark. However, the players wouldn't know that. No windows in sight and large, strikingly bright, lights loomed above. They pointed down on men like spotlights, everyone thinking they were bought to win big once given a little attention.
"30 seconds, Mr. Wolfe."
"Call." The goat slowly pushed in a sizable chunk of his stack.
"Wow, the kid talks! I was beginning to think you were mute."
He didn't pay the fox any attention. Instead, he was focused entirely on the four cards already on the table. Three clubs and a heart were displayed in a tiny rectangular outline. Q, 10, 6, J in that order. The dealer, a chipmunk wearing a posh suit, took his time flipping over the last card, which was an ace of diamonds. The goat stared at the river card intently. His drumming sped up ever so slightly. Hardly noticeable unless you were looking for it.
And the fox was. Any respectable poker player would be. Looking for signs that might indicate the true nature of your opponent's hand was an essential part of the art. The way you shuffle your chips, the movement of your eyes, or even the slight increase in-
"10 thousand."
The strumming continued.
Even though the goat had called out his bet quite confidently, he kept his head down throughout the subsequent silence. With the help of his long, white hair and a paw, now resting on his forehead, his eyes were out of view. The fox took this opportunity to take a better look at the elusive goat who had been playing passively until then. He saw his options as threefold.
The first option would be that the goat had a flush. This made sense because passive players usually didn't bet unless they were confident of their victory. Profile aside, it also made sense considering the way the goat played the hand. Calling on the turn with an ace or king high flush a safe play because the likelihood of him losing on the river was minimal. This way the goat would be allowed to feign hesitancy on the call and steal more money on the river. However, he should have checked if that was the case. This theory also required the goat to have been faking all his nervous ticks earlier. The quivering of his finger and the slight speedup in the drumming looked completely natural. He even looked visually upset when the ace showed up. There was zero chance of this being one big orchestrated act to deceive the fox. This was some arrogant Legacy's son who was better suited to the low stakes of a Midway. Now he was cracking under the pressure of playing at a real casino.
The fox ruled this option out.
The second option was that the goat was bluffing. The fox wasn't certain if he was capable of bluffing so much. Yes, his parents were rich. But when you're at the table, everything becomes so much more real. You worry over losing any amount. If he didn't care, that might have been why he was jumping from table to table and draining that joint bank account his parents would most likely try to keep topped off. However, the fox seriously doubted that. He would allow himThe second option was that the goat was bluffing. The fox wasn't certain if he was capable of bluffing so much. Yes, his parents were rich. But when you're at the table, everything becomes so much more real. You worry over losing any amount. If he didn't care, that might have been why he was jumping from table to table but the fox seriously doubted that. He would allow him some dignity.
The fox ruled this option out.
The third option was that the goat had a straight. That would require him to be holding a king of any suit. The fox thought of his own cards. Of three suits. This didn't explain why the goat called on the turn. There was no reason to risk so much on a straight draw. He must have had a flush draw as well or some other pair. If he was chasing a flush, that could explain the annoyance. It also would be a good act. If he was feigning annoyance to make the fox assume he had nothing but a flush draw, the drastic change in behavior made sense. Constantly staring at cards to completely hiding his eyes? He couldn't keep up the act. All he had to do was act for a few sentences then disappear into his own mind. One that would eat away from him with the nerves of losing a big hand. The fox smirked.
"Thirty thousand."
That would put the goat all, causing him to bet near fifty thousand Kull. People would kill for that. Now the goat would lose that amount and walk away just fine. The fox scoffed while looking at the purple blazer. But that quickly turned into a grin once he saw the kid's reaction.
He had stopped strumming his fingers mid air as if his hand froze in time. When it melted, he began shuffling his chips, feeling every tiny crevice over multiple times. The empty clacking noise was all that could be heard by the two of them.He desperately wanted to call. He needed to but something was telling him it was a bad idea. The fox knew he was overthinking things, slowly convincing himself that the fox had him beat even though they would most likely split the pot.
A minute rolled by. Then two. The fox wouldn't call the timer this time. Let him stew in his own mind. Just about now the goat would run a few more scenarios of how he could win this hand in his head. But he knew none of them made sense. The fox had to have had a flush. There was no reason he would be this confident.
The goat placed his paw on top of his cards, ready to slide them across the table and accept defeat.
"Amateur-"
"Call."
"What?"
The goat flipped over one of his cards, revealing the king of clubs. Amidst his busy mind, the fox was able to let out a sigh of relief. He was right; the kid had a straight. The fox flipped over his own cards to reveal a king and queen of hearts. He was safe.
But all eyes were focused on the goat's unturned card. A low murmur arose from the men around the table as the goat continued to not reveal it.
"Mr. Wolfe, can you please show us your hand?" the dealer asked nervously.
The goat looked up. There was a blazing confidence in his eyes.
"Guess. Guess what this card is," he said to the fox who blinked several times.
"I don't know, kid. Some low heart or spade?" The goat shook his head.
"I want an exact guess. Number and suit." The fox thought for a moment.
"Five of spades then." Smiling, the goat slid his card across the table toward the fox.
"See for yourself." The fox stared at the goat before turning it over.
Loud murmurs of discontent came from the table.
The dealer cleared his throat.
"Secret Wolfe wins the pot of 45.650 Kull with an ace high flush."
The fox turned his attention back to the goat.
"Burn in Hell."