Black Number Four Read online

  Copyright © 2015 Kandi Steiner

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without prior written consent of the author except where permitted by law.

  The characters and events depicted in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Published by Kandi Steiner

  Edited by Betsy Kash

  Cover Photography by Austyn Bynon

  Cover Design by Kandi Steiner

  Formatting: Elaine York/Allusion Graphics, LLC/Publishing & Book Formatting

  For Mom and Dad. Dad, thank you for showing me how to play poker and for teaching me my lucky number. Mom, thank you for showing me how to WIN the game – and for your unwavering love and support throughout my life. I love you both dearly.

  And for my Circle of Trust, my CCB’s, the real Erin, Jess, Ashlei, and Cassie. You girls altered my life for the better when you came into it and I couldn’t imagine a day without you. With each other always, through harmony and strife, forever, for life.

  Prologue: All In

  1: Ante Up

  2: Lady Luck

  3: Ace

  4: Deuces

  5: Hot Table

  6: Nicely Played

  7: Two Can Play That Game

  8: Power Moves

  9: Poker Face

  10: Weaknesses

  11: Angle Shooter

  12: Blank

  13: Bluffing

  14: Tilt

  15: No-Limit

  16: Black Number Four

  17: Bad Beat

  18: Rush

  19: Game Changer

  20: Downswing

  21: Tell

  22: Freezeout

  23: Game Over

  24: Break Even

  Epilogue: Heart

  About the Author

  There are three things you should know about me.

  One, I can read a bluff like a neon sign. Everyone gives themselves away in some form of a twitch or another, and after a few rounds at the table with me, I can guarantee I’ll know yours. So, throw your best fake smile or confident wink at me, but just know I can see right through you – and we both know there’s no sense in betting all your chips with nothing but a Jack high in your hands.

  Two, I have the best poker face in the game. I’ll make you think you’re reading me, show a little sign of being nervous maybe or bite my lip in anticipation of the river, but it’s all part of the plan. I’m building you up to expect the wind to blow one way just so I can pull out an industrial size fan and send your shit flying just the opposite. And if by chance you do get to me, you won’t know – because I don’t let it show, not even a little. If anything, I’ll make you think you actually played right into my hand – making you the nervous one, in turn. The key to a killer poker face is to strip your soul of all emotion and show only what you purposefully want the other person to see. And trust me – I’m the lead singer in the band of No Emotion.

  Number three and, perhaps, the most important thing to know about me is this: I know when to fold. I know when to hang in tough, when to push my luck, when to bluff my ass out of a tight situation and when to throw the cards down and run as fast as I can in the other direction. In poker and in life, it’s all about knowing the game you’re playing and how you stand up to the competition. And pace – you have to know when to push and when to sit back and let it ride. Now don’t get me wrong – I hate throwing in the towel as much as any other competitive, adrenaline chasing poker junkie, but I’ve learned even in my short time in the game that there are some hands you just don’t mess with… some cards that forever trump others.

  All three of these things are true. If you asked any sports reporter, any poker analyst, any pro standing around watching the final table of this tournament right now – they would tell you all three of these things about me and maybe add in a few notes of their own. Which is why I can’t understand why my hands are trembling, why my skin is slick with a film of sweat as I drop any shred of a poker face I have left and push the remainder of my chips forward – toward the one person who managed to get under my skin, to break me down, to change the game, to flip me on my ass and toss every rule I’ve ever had into a massive wood chipper, leaving me with nothing but the shavings.

  The last thing I see before I close my eyes and give one final push of the chips toward the center of the table are the burning blue eyes that will forever haunt me, forever remind me that – even when we think we have a game completely mastered – there’s always the possibility that Chance and his brother, Luck, will show up and utterly screw everything.

  “All in.”

  “So should we start taking bets on which pledge will have the best game?” Jess asks, winking at a group of potential recruits as we pass the first rush table. The guys all react, some smiling awkwardly, some waving slightly, and one literally letting his jaw fall open.

  I roll my eyes, pulling my Kappa Kappa Beta sweater over my head and tucking my hands in the front pocket. January in South Florida is still better weather than the rest of the country, in my opinion, but anything below sixty makes me want long sleeves. “Aren’t we a little old for freshmen, J-Love?”

  “Hey! Some of them are sophomores. I heard there are even a few juniors this year.”

  “What happened to Greg? I thought things were getting serious.”

  She scoffs. “Yeah right. He was fun for semi-formal, but I lost interest over Christmas break. I’m ready for a new toy.” She turns mid-stride as she says the last line, lifting an eyebrow at three brothers at the Alpha Sig tent before falling right back into rhythm with me.

  I laugh. “You’re relentless. You do realize you’re the Recruitment Chair now, right? You should probably be setting the standard for our sorority, which I don’t think includes scamming on the fresh meat.”

  She shrugs. “There are more eyes on your Big than on me, Sky. Besides, maybe I’m trying to recruit all the skanks this semester.”

  “Yeah, like that would ever fly with Ex or Lei,” I say, thinking of Erin and Ashlei. Erin Xander, known as Ex by pretty much everyone on campus, is my Big Sister in KKB. Her best friend, Ashlei, is the new Vice President. I don’t think I’ve ever seen either of them dress in any outfit that couldn’t somehow incorporate pearls and a tactful bow. They both come from old money and were essentially born and bred for the sorority lifestyle. They reveled in it. Just the thought of having a less than perfect pledge class would probably give my Big hives. In fact, I’m not sure I would get in if I had to rush this year. “Come on, let’s go drop off these cookies and start making the rounds.”

  Jess links her arm through mine and we steer toward the black and green flag of the Omega Chi Beta tent. Her wavy blonde hair sways as we walk and I find myself twirling my long, dark hair around my index finger – the same nervous habit I’ve had since high school. Jess, Ashlei, and Erin are all gorgeous blondes with beautiful tan skin. They pretty much look like triplets, although Erin has an older, more classic and refined look about her and Ashlei and Jess both have rounder, more playful faces. The three of them have been best friends since they rushed together freshman year. Somehow, I fit in more with them than I did with my own pledge class and I quickly became their fourth wheel. They always joke about how lucky I am that they “let me in” since I’m the only brunette. Pair that with my obnoxiously huge eyes, awkward plump bottom lip and slender frame and you could say I stand out when I’m with them.

  And not in a good way.

  The courtyard is swarmed with fraternity boys and po
tential pledges. All the sororities are out in full support, sporting their letters as they deliver baked goods and decorated banners to each fraternity. For a spring semester rush, it’s pretty crowded – but nowhere near the chaos that is fall recruitment. Considering how small Palm South University is, Greek life is strong and coveted – we’re a small but extremely active group on campus and we take pride in recruiting the elite to join.

  Only the fraternities have a spring rush. For us, it’s all about fall. There are two weeks in the summer completely dedicated to preparing for our recruitment, which is essentially a week of hell where every girl gets sick from straining their voices to cheer and talk to potential new members in crowded chapter rooms. We have several days with different themes where we attempt to woo the best girls into pledging Kappa Kappa Beta. I envy the boys, who merely have a few days of bromancing freshmen with the lure of parties, sports, and underage drinking.

  “Oh shit, is that Skyler Thorne I see? Hide your money, boys!” Clinton yells as we approach the tent. I nudge him hard in the ribs as I set the plate of perfectly baked Snickerdoodles down.

  “Don’t scare away my potential new victims before I even have the chance to play dumb, Bear!” I turn just in time to be swooped into a crushing hug. Clinton pulls back and tucks me under his arm, my hair still ruffled from the embrace.

  “Wherever you decide to pledge, boys, be sure you never sit down at the poker table with this one. No matter what she says or what her sisters try to convince you of. Mark my words – this will be the best lesson you take from tonight.”

  I squirm my way from under his arm and smack him playfully. “You suck.”

  “You wish.” He waggles his eyebrows and I fake gag myself with my index finger. Clinton Pennington is the Social Chair for O Chi and one of my closest friends. Towering at least a foot over any of his brothers and weighing in at two-twenty has earned him the affectionate nickname of Bear, which may insinuate that he’s soft and cuddly like a teddy but in reality he’s more the grizzly, eat-your-face-off-if-you-mess-with-the-wrong-person kind of bear.

  Though he is soft and cuddly on the inside, truth be told.

  “I don’t get it, is she good at poker or something?” one of the freshmen asks.

  I look to Clinton and stifle a laugh. “I don’t know, would you say that I’m good at poker, Bear?”

  He lets out a huff of air. “If you consider winning practically every tournament there is ‘good,’ then yeah, I guess you could say that.”

  “Not every tournament,” I correct him, the three freshmen still staring at us confused. I’ve made a name for myself in the poker world, but I have yet to enter into the biggest tournament to prove myself against the best of the best. I’m confident in my ability to win, but I’d be lying if I said my insecurities didn’t get the best of me sometimes.

  “Not yet, you mean. We all know you’re going to take it all this year,” Jess says and Clinton nods in agreement before turning back to the boys. I tried to keep the fact that I was planning on entering the American Poker Club Tournament at the end of this semester a secret, but somehow word got out. One thing I’ve learned about this school is there are no secrets – your business is everyone else’s business whether you like it or not.

  “You three seriously need to turn on ESPN sometime. How have you not seen her on TV?”

  One of the guys lifts his shoulders. “I don’t really watch poker.”

  “Clearly,” Clinton mumbles as another one of his brothers, Willie, walks up and starts talking to the freshmen. Jess, Clinton and I walk to the back of the tent with a few cookies in hand and lean against a table.

  “So, how are the potentials this year?” I ask, running my fingers through my hair to smooth it and scanning the crowd.

  “I feel good about this year, Sky. I’m trying to get us a few football players so we have a shot at Intramurals this year. Losing Marshall and Tuck to graduation last year killed us.” He grabs a cookie and devours it in one bite. “There’s some transfer kid that everyone is talking about, too.”

  “Transfer?” I ask, scrunching my nose. “Who the hell transfers to Palm South?”

  He laughs, his large shoulders bouncing slightly. His smooth black skin looks even darker than usual and his bright white teeth illuminate the night. “Right? That’s what I said. But, apparently he’s got a pretty impressive résumé. I heard he’s a Creative Writing major though, so my money is on him going Alpha Sigma.”

  “No room for the artsy nerds on your roster, Bear?” I tease.

  He shrugs. “I’m more of a Sports Science kind of guy. I need someone who can throw a football with me.”

  I roll my eyes. “How do you know he can’t throw a football, too?”

  Clinton gives another booming laugh. “The two just don’t mesh, Sky. You’re either one or the other. Jock or nerd.”

  “You talking about the new kid?” Willie asks, snatching a half-eaten cookie from my hand.

  Clinton nods dismissively, temporarily distracted by his cell phone. “Yeah, I just talked to him. He seems chill. Not sure if he’ll fit in here but I like him.”

  “Okay, where is this guy? I need to see what all the fuss is about,” Jess says, standing on her tiptoes to scan the crowd.

  I shake my head and excuse myself. “I’m going back to the house to see if my Little is done studying yet. Behave yourself, Jess.” I give her a teasing warning and she throws her hands up in mock surrender before turning back to talk to Bear and Willie.

  Cassie, my shy-but-feisty red headed Little, is only a sophomore but already has twice the schoolwork that I do. She’s a Biology major trying to go pre-med and I swear she’s the most dedicated girl in our entire organization. She’s the only one of us that can turn down a bottle of beer and a cute boy to study for an exam. She rushed the year after me and when it came time for Big/Little reveal, I wrote her name at the top of my list and I was her first pick, too. We’ve grown pretty close over the past year and a half, and there’s something about her that’s different from the rest of the girls in our sorority. She’s quirky and smart – and not ashamed to be either.

  I pull out my phone and shoot her a quick text to let her know I’m on my way to get her ass out of that room when I hear a loud burst of laughter at the Alpha Sigma tent. I turn and see a group huddled around something or someone just as another ring of laughter fills the air. Curious, I tuck my phone back into the ripped pocket of my skinny jeans and walk that way.

  “And that was the last time I let anyone talk me into shots of tequila.” I hear a voice finish as I peer in from the back of the crowd. A final little spurt of laughter breaks out and then a few people disperse, leaving me more room to squeeze through. When I see who everyone is gathered around, a soft, unrecognizable sound escapes my mouth and I play it off as a cough when a couple of people turn around to look at me.

  Holy hell.

  Talking to Adam, the president of Alpha Sig, is quite possibly the most gorgeous guy to lay Sperrys to grass at Palm South. And trust me, I’ve had a run with pretty much all of the top bachelors on campus, but none of them could hold a candle next to this guy. He’s like an Ace in a sea of deuces.

  His blonde hair is a little messy but styled, the stubble on his chin just begging to scratch my neck. He’s dressed trendily in dark jeans and a sweater pulled over what appears to be a dress shirt and tie. He’s got the sleeves of the dark red sweater pushed up, accenting the muscles in his arms as he folds them over his chest. I spend more time in the gym than in the classroom and I know those arms don’t come from playing video games. He flashes a smile at Adam, laughing a little and I feel a warmth spread and dip low in my stomach. And his glasses… why am I so attracted to a black piece of plastic right now?

  Yep. He is definitely an Ace.

  Shit. I bet he’s gay. No way a straight man can dress that well.

  Because I’m staring like an idiot and there’s no more appropriate time for dream boy to glance up at me, his ey
es flick to mine and I make that damn sound in my mouth again. He offers a soft, curious smile before turning back to Adam. In the second his eyes were locked on mine I found myself lost in bright, almost neon blue eyes. He glances my way again and Adam follows his gaze, smiling when he sees me. Adam and I had a short fling last year, which totally doesn’t make this situation any more awkward than it already is.

  Sarcasm alert.

  “Skyler Thorne! About time you showed up. Come meet our new pledge,” he says, gesturing to weird-throat-sound-inducing man. I snap out of my trance and pull on my cool demeanor, hugging Adam before turning to face the pledge.

  “Already accepted a bid? That was fast,” I say, trying to keep my eyes trained on his and refrain from letting them fall down his body. I can’t say I’m not tempted to peek at his arms again.

  He smiles, his bright teeth and blue eyes radiating against the chestnut hue of his skin. “What can I say? I’m a man who knows what he wants.”

  I lift a brow. “Mm hmm. Are you also a man who wears fake glasses to look smarter than you really are?”

  A throaty laugh escapes his lips and I can’t help but smile because holy hell his laugh is contagious. “I wish. I’m blind as a bat if I don’t wear these or my contacts.” His smile fades into a soft grin and his eyes appraise me.

  I nod, waiting for him to give away his bluff. Surprisingly, I don’t see any sign of his poker face falling, so maybe he’s telling the truth about the specs. I turn my focus to smiling and appearing calm. I’m a pro at flirting – hell, at boys in general. I can land a guy pretty much anytime I want and it’s a comfortable thing, I rarely ever get shy. So then why do I suddenly feel like the awkward, invisible Skyler from high school? “So are you going to tell me why you have a personal vendetta against tequila?”

  Adam laughs. “Oh no, not that story again. You’ll have to hear that another time, Sky. We were just about to head back to the house so I could show him up in a game of foosball.”

  “Hmm,” I say, pulling my bottom lip between my teeth. “Guess that means I’ll see you again sometime… Matthew, was it?”