Page 55 of Hate Me Like You Mean It
Say no.
Say no say no say no.
“What happens if you pull a ten of spades, then? I’ll die if I drink that many ounces of bourbon in one go.”
“Which is exactly why we shouldn’t do it.”
I sank an inch deeper into the couch. “What if we made them the exception? Let’s just say their whole court is too drunk to care about following a coherent set of rules, so their assigned numerical value means nothing. None of their royals are interested in leaving the party long enough to become delegates, so they’ve bowed out of the running for the night.”
“Yeah, but if the joker is played and you’ve already made your opponent take five, six shots…” He trailed off when I shook my head, giving me space to explain.
“If they have no delegates in the greater court for this session, he wouldn’t have eyes on them. All spades get tossed into a separate discard pile that can’t be triggered again—not even during a full karmic reset.”
“What about their ace? Can’t clear a conscience you don’t have.”
I drummed my fingers over my knee. I’d forgotten we’d limited the aces to their own suit. “Wecouldmake it the one holy card in the deck. Like a get-out-of-jail-free card type, where if you’re lucky enough to have it in your hand when the joker is played against you, you can use it to get away scot-free.”
He considered it. “But the chances of one person pulling both jokers and the ace aren’tthatlow, given the limited number of players.”
Right. And that would render the ace mostly useless anyway.
I’d forgotten how engaging and fun this was—working out the little kinks in our games with him, honing them until they were fully playable. My brain was buzzing with the challenge, spinning off in five different directions in search of a working solution.
“Okay, so what if it were an Uno reverse type instead? The card of instant karma that redirects whatever consequences you’re about to face back to your opponent. Jokers are immune, because the devil’s already damned, but it can be played in any other scenario.” I inched closer, a distantly familiar sensation tickling up my chest. “The stakes would be higher, and you’d have to strategize on a deeper level and think twice about what you’re asking of your opponent in case it comes back to bite you.”
Dom’s lips did a little wobble like they used to when we were kids and he was trying to hide his excitement. My heart expanded at the sudden flash of memories, my own mouth fighting to remain flat.
“That’ll work,” he said, rubbing at his chin in another failed attempt at disguising his incoming smile. “Anything else you can think of?”
“Nope.” I cut the deck again. “Highest draw goes first. Lowest deals for delegates with the option of rejecting their opponents’ first.”
He drew a three of spades.
I lucked out with a six of hearts.
He reshuffled, then started flipping cards in front of me until he hit the first eligible court card.
“Spoiled, slothy nepo baby stuffed with greed,” Dom teased as I placed my new delegate, the king of diamonds, in the designated spot on my left. “A little too on the nose as a rep, but I’ll allow it.”
For once, though, his tone didn’t carry the sharp edge of accusation. He sounded like he was joking. At least to some degree.
“And his lowly, envious, greedy little attendant,” I crooned when the jack of diamonds popped up for him. “How does it feel, seeing the essence of your soul so accurately represented?”
He swallowed another smile as he dealt my hand, forcing me to do the same as I dealt his.
Soon, we became so immersed in studying our ten cards and designing our individual strategies that neither of us said a word for several minutes.
“Ready when you are,” he eventually announced, getting up to grab the bottle of whiskey and everything else he’d prepped. They were all deposited on the floor beside us for ease of access while I finalized my decisions.
“Four of gluttony.” I placed the card down. “The start of the court session is a little drab for my king’s liking. He suggests we liven things up a bit. Drink.”
Dominic took a shot, flinching a touch, then threw down his retaliation. “Eight of wrath. My delegate is put off by the blood on your delegate’s hands and kindly asks that the court do something about it. Your punishment is to cover them up for the next eight turns so as not to upset the other attendees.”
I narrowed my eyes, the tip of my tongue poking the inside of my cheek. “My king’s sloth prevents him from performing any physical tasks that are asked of him by anyone other than his queen, remember? He only moves when he so chooses, which is during his turn.”
“Then it’s a good thing he’s got his lowly attendant here to do the dirty work for him.”
“Yeah, no. I’m not letting you just make up new rules as you go.”
