Page 72 of False Promises

Riley scratched the side of his head with a frown that I knew to be bullshit by now. Or maybe not.

Dylan Daughtry sighed and placed his cards face down on the table.

Sweat formed at the base of my nape.

Should I go all in or not?

My poker confidence wasn’t at the top. The game hates me, I swear.

Kristoff, sitting on my left, the only one at the table who wasn’t related to the music industry chuckled as our eyes met.

“Having a hard time, Hills?” He elbowed me, and I winced in his direction.

I had two pairs. That was good, right?

“Scared I’m gonna beat you again?” he asked.

“Yeah, yeah, you wish.”

“I’m in,” Sam Stevens said, pushing half of his chips to the center of the table.

“Me too,” Riley chimed in.

“What about you, Hills?” Kristoff asked in a teasing tone. “Are you gonna risk it?”

“Yeah, Hills,” Riley echoed. “Are you in or out?”

Two pairs are good enough.

“In.” I hesitated for just half a second. “All in.”

“You sure?” my manager asked.

“Yep.” I added my chips to the pile.

“Flush,” Sam announced with a smirk.

“Straight flush,” Riley announced, showing his hand.

Sam and he high-fived.

“What about you, Hills?”

I turned my cards over. “Two pairs.”

Kristoff grinned so big it showed all his teeth. “Sorry, guys.” He displayed his royal flush.

“Again? What are you? Some sort of poker guru?” I flung my arms out on either side of me. “I’m done.”

“Aren’t you a sore loser?” Sam teased.

“You wish, Stevens. At least my song is still number one. Sorry, but yours has been stuck at number two for weeks now.”

His loud chuckle killed the tension around the table.

Kristoff pulled his booty toward him, smirking like the badass he was. “Watch and learn, guys. Y’all may be rich and famous, but you’ve got nothing on me.”

“Ry, remind me why I’m doing this again. I always end up bankrupt.” I sighed. “I’m always the first one to go.”