Page 113 of Famous for a Living

My fork drops even farther. “Is that so? Do tell.”

“I have decided you pass stage one. Congratulations. You have earned your way into stage two.”

I laugh. “You do realize that if anyone other than you were saying this right now, I’d be clicking my bracelet for security backup.”

“Nothing like that.” He reaches for my bowl, which is empty save a few lonely pieces of rice. I jab at his hand with my fork all the same. He laughs, pulling his hand back. “You’re also a feisty eater, you know that? You remind me a little of a starved animal.”

“You’re really nailing this date stuff, Zaiah.” My fork scrapes the bowl as it resumes pulling the rice together for a final bite. “Giving me a test score during the date. Comparing me to wild animals. Really top-notch.”

“Well, I couldn’t let you into the second part of the date just like that. It’s not something I could let you in on and then change my mind on later. It’s not something I can take back.”

I pause, fork halfway to my mouth. “Are we referring to marriage now? Is that where you’re going with this?”

He grins. “No. But it’s something we take very nearly as seriously. I’m letting you in on the best-kept secret in town.”

* * *

Poker night.

This incredible, best-kept secret in town is a senior citizen poker night.

I laugh as I throw down my cards.

It was a heavy battle, full of blood, sweat, and so many hours new logs had to be thrown on multiple times, but I finally have to throw in the towel. “Congratulations, Peggy. You win.”

Peggy gleefully pulls in my towers of red, white, and blue chips, her own dangling earrings quite literally replicas of the chips she’s gathering in her hands. “You played a good game, honey. For a first-timer, you held yourself well.”

Zaiah, the only one besides me under forty in the group, pours coffee into the raised mugs of the group circled around the poker table. I cover my mug with my hand to decline when the carafe nears mine. With my other hand I stifle a yawn.

How Peggy, Uncle Terry, and the half dozen other senior members of the circle can look at the clock hovering in single digits like it’s not five hours past reasonable bedtime is beyond me. And to find out they do this on a weekly basis . . .

“I think your beau is getting sleepy,” Peggy announces, pushing up her glasses as she slides the first card toward herself.

“She’s not his beau,” Terry grumbles, slapping cards out on the table as he deals. “She’s just a nice young lady who happened to come by.”

I’m on a first date with my uncle.

And my coworker.

And half a senior citizen group.

This has actually happened.

This was actually Zaiah’s plan.

And yet. It worked.

This may have actually been my favorite date ever.

Zaiah, who finally gave up on his flannel two hours ago, throws his cards down after one look at me. He runs a hand down his beard, then pushes his chips to the center of the table, despite the fact that he is far and away the strongest player. “I’m out. You all carry on. I’m going to take Cat home.”

He’s reduced to just a base layer T-shirt. Just a plain white V-neck that cuts into his biceps.

I’d complain, but I’m at that point where when I blink, I’m starting to see double.

“C’mon, blinky,” Zaiah says, helping me out of my chair and into my coat. “Let’s get you to bed.”

“You all know you have work in four hours,” I call back, watching as Peggy and Uncle Terry stare at their cards, pensive and undeterred.