Page 11 of My Five Daddies

I shrug. “I’ve dealt withworse.”

“I bet you have,” he says, walking over to me. He gives me a kiss on the cheek and steers me into theroom.

The other guys grin at me and nod. “Anything I can get you boys?” Iask.

“Just your lovely company,” Ethan calls out. “Pull up a seat and watch me fleece theseidiots.”

“Says the guy losing,” Jordangrumbles.

“Poker is something of a blood sport for us,” Will says. “We all think we’re good, and I’m pretty sure we’re allawful.”

“Speak for yourself,” Chris grunts. “I’m kicking ass.” I note that his chip pile looks thebiggest.

“What are we playing for?” I ask. “Pennies?”

Will laughs. “I think there’s a million dollars in the pot rightnow.”

I gape at him. “What?”

He shrugs. “It’s a big pot.” He walks over and takes his seat again, and the gameresumes.

I hover on the periphery, eventually sitting down on the arm of the nearby couch. The guys laugh and joke and play, but underneath it all is a sense of serious competitiveness. Will ends up losing that hand, and Ethan takes the pot, making his stack a little bit bigger, although Chris is still in thelead.

Eventually I get them some food, and they play for a few more hours. “We could do this all night,” Ethan admits, pouring himself a drink. “I bet it’s notfun.”

“No, it’s actually interesting,” I say. “I used to watch this stuff onTV.”

He laughs softly. “This isn’t exactly the world series ofpoker.”

“No, it’s better. And I’m pretty sure there’s more money atstake.”

He laughs again and leans up against me. “You don’t have to stick around if you don’t wantto.”

“No, I do. You guys have this weird thing goingon.”

He raises an eyebrow. “How’sthat?”

“Well, you’re all great friends on the surface…” I trail off, realizing I shouldn’t be sayingthis.

“No, keep going,” he encourages me, an amused look on his face. “Please, I’minterested.”

“Well, you’re all friends. But there’s this competitiveness underneath it all. I mean, it’s crazy you’re playing for so much money, and everyone wants to win… but nobody wants to admitit.”

“You’re right,” he agrees. “It’s not about money for us, though. We want to beat eachother.”

“Isn’t that hard on your friendships?” I ask, trying tounderstand.

“Sometimes, but mostly it makes us better. We all work in the same industry, though coming at it from different angles. We help each other out, but we also compete with each other, which is another way ofhelping.”

“How is competing the same ashelping?”

He shrugs a little. “It’s making us stronger. I don’t think I’d be where I am now if I weren’t trying to keep up with these assholes.” He laughs a little ruefully at himself. “Probably some second rate music teachersomewhere.”

I laugh along with him, though I can’t stop thinking about what he said. Ethan rejoins the game, but my mind is stuck on theirdynamic.

They all work in the same industry, the music business, I assume. I work for a record label now, and it seems like a funny coincidence, but I don’t think anything of it. I try to remember the card Will gave me, but I don’t think it had the name of his company, just his personalinformation.

They all push each other to make them all better as a group. They’re friends, maybe almost family, but they don’t go easy on each other. I can see how that could work. I mean, obviously it didwork.

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