Provocation

Provocation

"C’mon, baby. Be a man. Hit me again."

"Again?"

"Yes, again."

"It’s the third time."

"I want it!"

He hit her again.

"Ha! Twenty-one. I win again." She threw her cards on the low table between them. They were the two of hearts, four of spades, queen of spades, four of clubs and the ace of hearts.

He stared mournfully at his own cards, then flipped them on to the table. He had nineteen—the ten of clubs and nine of hearts. "For someone who doesn’t like games of chance, you sure are good at this one." He was glad they were playing only for fun rather than betting for anything real.

"I didn’t say I don’t like games of chance. I said I don’t play games of chance."

"But you’re playing one now."

She only smiled as she re-stacked the deck and laid two cards in front of each player—one face up and one face down.

He picked up his face down card. It was the ace of spades. His face up card was the two of hearts. That made a total of either three or thirteen, depending on how he chose to count the ace. He looked over at his opponent’s face up card. It was the queen of hearts.

"Appropriate card," he intoned wryly, and smiled. "Hit me."

She slipped him a card from the top of the deck. It was another ace. Hearts this time.

"I’ll take a card too." She did so.

He paid her no attention as he stared at his cards. Should he stay or hit? Obviously: hit again. "Hit." His eyes never left the cards.

Again she slid a card over the table. He picked it up and examined it. Another ace! This one of clubs. Now he had a two of hearts and three aces. He could make fifteen out of it.

"I’ll hit as well." She gave herself another card.

Now each had four cards. How far can it go, he wondered. Can I hit? She has hit twice and is still in. She must have a good hand. I’ve got to risk it. He looked up and fixed her eyes with his.

"Hit me." His voice was dead.

She slid him another card. He couldn’t resist smiling thinly as he looked at it. It was the three of spades. He now held nineteen. He would finally win a hand. He looked up again. She sat peering at him as if to catch his eyes before speaking slowly and deliberately:

"I’ll take a card."

He fought to hide his surprise as he watched her take a card and examine it. Her face remained cold and motionless. He let a moment pass before asking "Are you still in?"

"Yes."

He examined his cards and looked up. Both now had five cards and both remained in the game.

"I’ll stay." He could not risk taking another card.

She took a long moment to look at her cards.

"I will stay as well."

"Ha! I’ve got nineteen this time."

At the same time that he spoke her triumphant voice rang out: "Twenty!"

He started, shocked by her words, as both threw their cards down.

"My God," he moaned.

His cards sat on the table—the two, the three, and the three aces. He glanced up as he began to gather up the cards, then stopped when he saw a look of shock abruptly cross his opponent’s face and vanish just as quickly.

His eyes flashed down to her cards. Her score was twenty. The cards were the queen of hearts, a six, a two—that made eighteen—and two aces. Two aces! That makes five aces all together.

"Five aces! You were cheating!"

"Sure." She looked more than innocent—she looked as if she were unaware that such a thing could possibly be wrong.

"What do you mean, ’sure’? You were cheating!"

"I thought that was the point."

"What?!"

"I told you I don’t play games of chance."

"But—" He stopped, speechless. He grabbed the edge of the table between them and threw it sideways. The cards flew in all directions, like leaves in a gale.

"Damn you!" he yelled.

"Are you going to hit me?" Her hands were white, gripping the edge of the couch.

He lunged forward and landed on her, pinning her down by the shoulders. She squirmed underneath him.

"How dare you cheat on me!" he roared.

She giggled lightly as their lips met.

First published in The Ideal Review, ca. 1999