Page 29 of Flirting with Trouble

“Dream on, little brother,” Grant says.

“Put your money where your mouth is.” Fitz places forty bucks in the center of the table.

That gets my attention, and I look at my cards again. I’ve got three jacks and two useless cards. “I’ll see your forty and raise you ten.” I put fifty bucks in the middle.

“Game on.” Fitz throws in another ten.

“You’re both going to wish you kept your money in your pockets.” Grant tosses his money onto the pile.

“I’m out,” Archer says.

“Too rich for my blood.” Brant tosses down his cards.

“Fifty it is,” Jamison says as he puts his cash in the middle.

“Jamison’s in? It’ll be my pleasure to take your money, Remington,” Fitz says with a smirk.

Jamison takes a pull on his beer without reacting. The guy has mastered his poker face.

We discard our unwanted cards, and after picking up the replacements, we do a second round of bidding, but we all hold at fifty.

“Full house,” Fitz says as he lays down his cards.

“Bastard.” Grant lays down three queens.

“Shit. You got me, too.” I lay down my cards, and we all look at Jamison.

“You know, Fitz, when you said it would be your pleasure to take my money, I thought your bar for pleasure was pretty low. But you’re right.” Jamison lays down four twos and an ace. “It feels pretty damn good taking your money.”

“Damn, done in by deuces,” Brant says, and we all laugh.

“It was a pity hand,” Fitz says. “I know Jamison needs to get pleasure any way he can, since he’s not getting laid.”

Jamison chuckles, but he’s too cool to respond.

“Are you going to let him put you down like that, Remington?” Archer asks.

Jamison eyes Fitz. “I don’t get involved in playground games.”

“He’s too busy building a new dating app with his buddies,” Brant announces.

“Really?” Fitz lifts his chin. “Is it different from what’s out there now?”

“Yes, sir,” Jamison says. “In addition to the typical data used to match people, like location, age, gender, and interests, among other things, ours will use astrological data to find potential matches.”

“You mean like zodiac signs?” Fitz asks.

“Sure, among other things,” Jamison says. “Like the user’s birth chart, their moon sign and rising sign compatibility, and more complex astrological calculations that analyze aspects of different planetary positions in your natal chart, for example—”

“Whoa, dude.” Fitz waves his hands. “That’s more than I need to know or can understand. But you can use me and Wells as your test subjects, right, Wells?”

“Fuck no” comes out before I can stop it, and I push to my feet too aggressively, sending my chair skidding back.

Jamison catches it before it hits the floor, and as he sets it upright, he looks at me with concern.

“What the hell, Wells?” Archer barks.

“Sorry. I’m just in a shitty mood. Count me out.” I head into the kitchen with my empty beer bottle to grab another.