One Week by Nikki Van De Car Page A

can stop him.
    “Wow,” he laughs, looking up from the page I’d marked. “Delia sure has skills, for someone who…” He checks the back cover. “For someone who was raised by nuns in the south of France.”
    “It’s what they sell at the newsstand,” I mutter, looking away. “There aren’t exactly a lot of options, and I was desperate.”
    “I guess you must have been. What else did you get?” Jess leans over the side of his seat and digs around in my bag of purchases, and comes up with the deck of cards. “Good thinking,” he says. He opens the pack and begins shuffling. “What do you want to play?”
    I shrug. “Whatever. What do you know?”
    We start off with War because it’s likely to pass a lot of time. Which is true, but it’s so freaking mindless I wonder if it actually makes time slow down. Like maybe it would be more interesting to just stare at the wall. But then we start to get into this rhythm. We’re not talking at all, just slapping down cards and picking them up, and it’s comfortable and quiet. Like when you’re sitting in the pool, and you know you’ve stayed in the water too long and your fingers and toes have gotten all pruney, but you just want to float for a while longer anyway.
    Eventually Jess wins and is disproportionately pleased by this—it’s not like it takes a lot of skill, I remind him. I take the deck, and give it a quick riffle shuffle, and place it on the table for him to cut. He does so, raising his eyebrows.
    “Fancy,” he comments. “Something I should know?”
    Only that it’s time to play something a little more interesting. “There are two bags of Skittles in the bag,” I say. “Would you grab them?”
    We designate different values for the different flavors. Jess has more Skittles of higher value than I do, but I’m not worried. I deal for Texas Hold ’Em (we won’t bother with blinds since there are only two of us).
    “Do you know how to play this?” I ask.
    Jess rolls his eyes. “Don’t overplay it, Bee. I get it, you know how to play poker, but won’t it be humiliating for you when I beat you?”
    I smile sweetly. “I’m sure it will be. Your bet.”
    Jess sighs and looks at his cards. “Orange Skittle.”
    Wimpy bet. But it is early. I put down my orange Skittle—Lord knows I have plenty to spare—and deal out the flop. Hmm. Not bad. While it’s likely that Jess has at least a pair of some kind, I’ve got a pair of kings, and could potentially work up to a flush.
    Jess bets two yellows. A pair it is then, and not higher than tens. I raise him a purple Skittle. What the hell. And he calls. I deal the turn, and manage not to smile. I got my flush. Jess looks at his cards, because you know it’s really hard to keep track of two cards, and checks. I consider betting again, but it’ll probably just make him fold. I check, and deal the river.
    Hmm.  Potential problem. Now we’ve got a pair of sevens down, and if that’s what Jess had as his pair, then we’re talking at least a three of a kind and possibly a full house. Three of a kind I can handle. Full house I can’t.
    Jess bets two purples, which would be pretty conservative for a full house. Of course, he’s played conservatively the whole time. I raise him a red, just to see what he’ll do.  He hesitates, and then calls.
    Yep, three sevens. I smile. I’d best remember to brush my teeth tonight, all the Skittles I’ll be eating.
    The game continues pretty much like that. I do lose some hands—Jess is pretty stoic, so it’s not like it’s easy to read him , necessarily, just his bets. At one point I frown, confused by something.
    “What were you going to do if I didn’t happen to show up in the dining car?” I ask.
    “Huh?” Jess glances up mid-deal.
    “You didn’t have any money,” I explain. “I hadn’t paid you back yet. How were you going to pay for your veggie delite?”
    “Oh.” Jess looks embarrassed. “I, uh…well…”
    “You weren’t going to do a