Pokerface - 2. Button

While the first cards of the tournament would be dealt two days from now, the game had already begun. Seth had already spotted several of the elite players in the industry upon the cruise ship, which meant they intended to play and win, just like him. Fleur de Blanc, a French woman with an icy demeanour, was here with her husband, Gérard. She very often made it to the final table in any tournament she played in. Nash and Lydia Ryder, a brother and sister tandem who never seemed to spend a moment from the other's side. They were not allowed to compete in a tournament at the same table unless both made it to the finals. Rumours followed them around - that they would manipulate the table and pots to boost each other's chances of winning, that they would communicate with signals and even read each other's minds. Superstition, Seth knew. The twins were clean players, but their knack for success intimidated their opponents.

Natalie Payne, Seth's favourite companion, was aboard the boat. An ancient, affluent black woman, she earned her name the Bluff Baroness before Seth was even born. She was Seth's mentor, the grandame of the industry more or less, and no event felt complete without her. Lars van der Berg, a Dutch professional who rarely spoke, was here with his wife of even fewer words, Famke. Seth barely noticed he was there, but that was what made Lars such a threat - he managed to never call attention to himself. He was a snake in the grass who had managed to hustle everyone in the scene at least a few times.

Seth was at the table with all seven of them. Friends? Not exactly. Friendship was overrated. It clouded judgment, and one needed to remain objective. But every single person at Natalie Payne's table had respect for the other five players and their partners. Fleur de Blanc, for example, was a painfully unpleasant woman to be around, so much so that Seth briefly considered if Gérard had agreed to come just to push her off the boat into the depths of the Pacific, but Seth held her in very high esteem. It was an honour to share the first meal of the two-week cruise with the heaviest hitters in the Poker community. Seth expected to make it to the final nine, and he would not be surprised if at least three of the others at this very table would meet him there if they did not knock each other out earlier.

"Children," Fleur huffed in her thick French accent, drumming her eggplant gloved fingers on the table. She was nearing sixty, yet she had aged incredibly well, and she looked like a mature movie star on the red carpet with her navy cocktail dress. "This boat is full of none but bourgeois children."

"They'll be knocked out soon enough," Nash replied with an easy shrug, his blond bangs parted in the middle and shrewd brown eyes wide and friendly.

"They'll still be here! It's not like the penalty for losing is getting tossed overboard!" Seth remarked with a chuckle. "I suppose it would make things more interesting. Are you a good swimmer, Nat?"

"Sink like a stone, darling," she replied in a heavy, throaty voice that came from sixty years of chain smoking. "My tumours weigh me down." She laughed, but as always, she ended up spluttering and coughing, sounding like there was a mountain of phlegm somewhere in there. Seth put his hand on her gnarled, shaky fingers, and she squeezed gently. He watched as she took one of her prescription painkillers from a rattling canister in her purse and swallowed it with a mouthful of aged cognac.

"Well, we have some decent competition to balance out the rookies, as always," Lydia smiled, looking a treat in her smart three-piece skirt suit. She had great legs and liked to display them. Her long chestnut hair fell in curls to her hip, and she had silver danglers from both ears. "I look very forward to taking your money home. Especially yours, Mrs de Blanc. I'm still stung over that straight flush you pulled out of thin air back in Munich."

Fleur did not smile, her face as stony and unfriendly as a gargoyle statue, but her eyes did flicker. "I can expect some tit-for-tat, is that what you say?" The woman sipped from her rum and coke with a straw.

"The pot comes home with us," Lars broke in, once again so far removed from the events taking place that Seth had completely forgotten he was there. "Lady Luck smiles on me this time." Famke leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. Cute.

Seth loved the veiled threats and the banter between them. It spiced up his decidedly bland berry sauce quail dish, and it helped him settle into the mood of the incoming games. As he was getting comfortable, however, someone passing by dropped a small, folded square of paper in front of him. Seth looked over his shoulder with a frown and caught a raised eyebrow from that one brunette kid with the glasses and lovely green eyes. He'd dressed up for dinner in a common white dress shirt and black waistcoat. Frankly, he looked like a waiter at a low end diner. As soon as the fellow appeared, he was gone again, disappearing back into the crowd.

"What's this about?" Natalie leaned over and asked him, covering her mouth as she coughed.

"That guy is stalking me, I'm fairly sure," Seth murmured, unfolding the paper.

Homewrecker xo 

"Homewrecker? What does that mean?" Natalie liked to pretend to the rest of the world that she was blind, deaf, frail and senile, but that was all a part of the brilliant act played by the Bluff Baroness. While her body was indeed getting ready to shut down, her senses were keen as ever and her mind sharp as a tack.

"I have no idea," Seth replied to her, aware that all eyes were on him now. He folded the paper and tapped it on the table.

"Yeah, of course," Nash snickered in his Australian accent. "Trying to lie to a bunch of professional bullshitters. Good plan, Nakamura."

"Whose home are you wrecking? Are you sleeping around again? Whose boy toy are you diddling on the side?" Lydia wiggled her eyebrows, drawing laughs out of everybody, even Fleur. "You better hope it's not somebody who takes these things personally."

"Don't listen to them, darling!" Natalie struggled to take a bite from her beef wellington with her shaky hands. "Get in while you can! You're in your forties now. You can't expect those cheekbones of yours to keep you young forever."

Seth barely heard them speaking. So shaken was he by this stranger that he decided it was time the two of them talked. Properly. Brunette had made a passing comment about him and Glenn earlier, and he'd also been there at the swimming pool. And now dinner? What was his deal? Seth decided he needed to find out, and he stood.

"Excuse me," he politely got up and offered a smile to his companions. "Good night, everybody. Mata ashita." (See you tomorrow.)

"Shaken, are we?" Fleur offered as he left, but nobody else was rude enough to comment. They waved him off, which was polite of them.

He had no doubt at all that everyone on that table, even Gérard and Famke, who were here to enjoy a luxury cruise and support their partners. Many people on the cruise ship would not play cards, but they were with someone who was. It was a Poker tournament, after all. The keenest minds in the world all at sea together - and some newcomers, a few of whom would no doubt have potential to be refined over the years, many of whom were most likely enjoying a holiday with a chance to hit a fifty million dollar prize, and most of whom were way in over their heads. Seth needed to know right now who this intrusive little shit was and why he seemed so determined to get under his skin. He went in the direction he'd seen the boy abscond, past the other dining tables, including the one with the elderly Winston McIntosh and his young boy toy husband Glenn - who was probably still walking funny - then by the salad bar and out into the bar next door. He was very easy to spot.

Brunette and his friends, Blond and Red, were very loud. It seemed a recurring theme with them - to party and live and not give a damn how it affected anybody else. At least, that seemed to be Blond and Red all over - their motivations ran skin deep - but Brunette? Seth didn't get those vibes from him. Even among his peers, he stuck out like a sore thumb. Blond and Red wore tailored tuxedos and looked quite comfortable doing it. Armani, perhaps? Very high end. Expensive. Rolling in their affluent, white male privilege without a care in the world. Brunette was a different soul, though. In fact, Seth struggled to make any confident assumptions about him.

"Oh, it's Asian Dad!" Blond with the strange frizzy hair - as though he'd stuck a fork in the toaster - recognised him first and even got to his feet. "Nice suit, man!"

Seth looked down at what he was wearing. A silk suit with a metallic, crimson jacquard pattern, a scarlet tie and his signature lapel - a red camellia flower from his father's homeland. Admittedly, he was not the only one enjoying a lavish lifestyle - except Seth earned it rather than being born into it. Blond even extended a hand to shake, but Seth did not take the offer. He did not respect these youngsters, nor did he intend to become acquainted.

"Alright then!" Blond laughed out loud as he retracted his arm and sucked down another swig of his cider.

"What do you want, Dad?" Red seemed to have recovered a bit of his swagger since Seth exposed him for the virgin he was earlier in the day. "Isn't it past your bedtime or something? You get lost looking for your cabin?"

"Some sleep would be nice," Seth agreed, a playful smile beginning to cross his soft, pale lips. "You know the best way to get to sleep? A good, hard fuck. Of course, you wouldn't know what that's like, would you, son?"

Blond and Brunette both started laughing again while the arrogance once again disappeared from Red's demeanour. Too fucking easy. Kids. Hah.

"Of course, if you're looking to lose that cherry of yours on this cruise, I'm quite happy to volunteer," Seth decided he would do more than disarm him - he wanted to embarrass him. "You're young. Fit. Even a bit cute."

"Fuck off, man!" Red screwed up his face, clearly uncomfortable.

"You're exactly my type. I'll show you tricks you never even dreamed of," Seth ran his tongue suggestively over his lips, and when Red looked like he was ready to panic, Seth tittered and turned away. The trouble with the straight, white male complex is that it's made of glass. So fragile. So easily broken. He looked at Brunette, who didn't even bat an eyelid. "You. I want a word."

"Ooooh! You gonna get lucky, Chippy! Get your gay on!" Blond whooped and teased, but Red had lost his sense of humour.

"Go fag it up somewhere else," he sulked angrily. "Get the fuck away."

"It's fine. I'll take my rape whistle," Brunette - Chippy? - assured him, getting up from his seat and passing by, brushing his chest against the taller man's. Seth was the disarmed one now. He had not been expecting that. What is this guy?

Brunette took him to the far corner of the lounge, and Seth folded his arms.

"It took you long enough," the boy told him, his eyes thoughtful and mischievous. "I was wondering if you were ever going to find me."

"What games are you playing... Chippy, is it?" Seth interrogated him, refusing to drop his guard even though he picked up no hostility from the other fellow.

"I go by Chip," the boy explained softly, straightening his glasses on his nose. He smirked when he saw the eyeroll from the other man. "I know. A poker player called Chip. Cliché. But originality is... overrated. What's your name?"

"Seth Nakamura," the older man replied with conviction, wondering if his name would ring any bells. If the kid was looking to get into professional poker, it should have. Chip didn't flinch, though. He didn't react at all. "Answer my question."

"I just thought that was a bit cute. I can't help but notice because I'm in the cabin opposite yours - you're having an affair with a rich man's trophy husband. At your age, too! It's admirable."

"I'm forty-two! I haven't got one foot in the grave yet! So, what are you doing? Putting that note on my table for everyone to see? Are you trying to unsettle me? Is that it?"

"For everyone to see? I don't think so! I dropped it off nice and folded and private. If you let everyone see my private message to you and they discovered that you're a homewrecker, then that's your fault!" Chip defended himself, and Seth's cheeks burned. He was right.

"You've taken an interest in me, and I want to know why," Seth put the conversation back on the rails, and Chip shrugged.

"You're an interesting guy," the boy took two small steps towards him, and they stood toe to toe, chest to chest. "I love the way you keep tearing Donny apart. It kills me! Don't be a stranger, Mr Nakamura. Please, keep it up! He's an asshole."

"And you put up with him... why?" Seth pointed out the obvious, and Chip grinned.

"Why indeed?" He slithered around Seth's body, again close enough to almost definitely be a calculated, seductive manoeuvre. As Seth watched Chip saunter away, the young man tapped three times on his left pants pocket.

Seth instinctively felt his leg, and lo and behold, there was something in there. He took it out and saw another folded square. Another note. How did he do that??

Knock on my door at midnight. xo