Page 97 of Subscriber Wars

I tip my chin at Maverick like I’ve seen Sebastian do in the past. Out of all the guys, Maverick looks the least relaxed, but I guess I shouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth. If he hasn’t thrown me out yet, maybe he won’t. I doubt Sebastian will have much sympathy if they figure out my game.

I’m not here to play poker. I’m only here to keep up the ruse. Sebastian Carrington, my nemesis, expects his friend to click with his other friends. So here I am, in a wig that my uncle lent me and a makeup job that I’m proud of. I might not have the best eyeliner or the prettiest highlights on my cheeks, but it’s simple, underplayed, and looks very manly, if I do say so myself.

Not knowing what card I should lay down, I look up at Sebastian who has this stupid grin on his face. Ugh. Why must the demon look like an angel?

“You might want to wipe that fucking smile off your face,” says Maverick, his expression stern and no longer hospitable. “Because if he goes belly up, you’re not leaving here until you cover his debt.”

I cringe. Sebastian covered the two thousand dollar buy-in too. I might not want the shithead to win next week’s subscriber war, but that doesn’t mean I want Maverick to shank him in a dark alley. Out of all Sebastian’s friends, Maverick looks the most unstable. Rumor has it he will grant any favor asked of him, but in return, you will owe him a favor that he will claim at a later date. It all sounds really sketchy, so as much as I want to ruin Sebastian, I don’t want him to go out when he’s doing something sweet for a change.

“You know what you need, Mav?”

Oh hell. I know that look. Any time Sebastian’s head cocks to the side and that ridiculous damn dimple pops, he’s up to no good.

“What you need is a bad fuck or a mediocre blow job. Wait, no, I got it!” He shuffles in his chair excitedly and winks at me. It’s hard to keep a straight face. “A sloppy rim job! That would loosen you up.”

Maverick doesn’t look up from his cards, and Sebastian takes that as his cue to keep talking. “See, you don’t need a good dick sucking, just a simple, mediocre, wet the tip and fondle the balls until you’re so frustrated you come, just so you can send the pretty little thing home. You need to loosen up, Mav. Accept that people aren’t perfect and need to learn.”

Sebastian takes a breath and pauses, waiting on Maverick to comment, but he only lifts a brow in warning which, clearly, doesn’t concern him. “I’m telling you, man. You haven’t lived until you’ve came to the worst fuck ever.”

My stomach churns, but it’s short-lived when Maverick taps out a cigarette and says, “Sebastian, if your friend doesn’t check or bet, I’m going to shove this beer bottle up your goddamn ass and see how you enjoy a sloppy rim job.”

Sebastian spews his beer all over the cards. “And here I thought you were in a bad mood today.” His chuckle is annoyingly cute and it takes a serious amount of effort not to grin at his ridiculousness.

“Dammit, Bash. You got the cards wet.” Rowan wipes off his cards and aims a growl in my direction. “Check or bet. Now!”

His deep baritone voice and heavy fist slamming on the table make me jump in my seat. I’m frozen amongst men that could lift me with one hand and toss my fake ass out in one breath.

“I swear to God,” Mav threatens. “I will—”

“Check. I check,” I rumble out quickly, doing my best to make my voice deeper and less frightened. I don’t know what check means, but that’s one of the only two options he offered me.

Maverick nods. “Row?”

Rowan looks at Sebastian and then at Maverick, narrowing his eyes. I don’t know what he sees in their expressions, but whatever it is, he doesn’t like it. “Fuck you both,” he says finally, slamming his cards down. “I fold.”

The rest of the conversation is a blur as Sebastian pokes at Maverick, raising the pot by pushing more chips in, but then Maverick mentions a straight on the river or something like that and we all show our cards. I had a bunch of numbers, which meant absolutely nothing to me, but apparently, it was a losing hand since Sebastian pushes back in his chair and mumbles, “Fuck.”

We lost.

I expected it, but I think Sebastian was hoping I was better at poker than I was. I wasn’t his wing man like he wanted. Honestly, though, I’m just impressed that they didn’t realize I was a girl the minute I walked in.

“Let me win my money back?” Sebastian teases.

Maverick gives him a look that reminds me of a killer about to attack. “No.”

Sebastian chuckles, not even giving a shit about pissing Maverick off. “I guess that’s my cue to go.”

Maverick walks out to his patio, and I stand from the metal chair and give a goodbye nod to Rowan who returns it, surprisingly. Sebastian says something that I don’t catch, but I follow him out, relieved to be leaving the worst game of friendly poker I’ve ever seen.

“You did pretty good in there,” Sebastian notes, as soon as we’re in the parking lot.

I scoff. “No, I didn’t but I had a good time. It’s been a long time since I’ve played poker.” Like never.

“You’ll get better the more you play and learn everyone’s tells.” He starts the engine to the car and I buckle my seat belt.

“Absolutely. I appreciate the invite.”

Sebastian grins and squeals out of the parking lot, heading to his house, where he says we’re going to invite a few people over. Honestly, I’m exhausted, but I can’t bow out now. He’s liable to film tomorrow’s video or at least give me the plans on where to film it. Tomorrow is the day. The day that Sebastian Carrington finally loses. This prank war has been one-sided since it started, but not now. Now, I have the upper hand, and I plan on uploading this entire body cam footage and for once, giving Sebastian exactly what he deserves.

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