Bluffing the Devil Read online

  Jamison always used to say that he would get "lost in the ocean" of my gaze. I always smiled when he said that and would become shy or throw out some "my parents and God gave them to me, I'm nothing special" speech to which he would get grouchy with me immediately and go into some rant about how I'm the best thing that ever happened to him, and he loved every speck of my DNA. How I should accept that and be quiet. Crazy boy! What I wouldn't give to have him back with me, and hear that some cheesy line comparing my eyes to a hidden pool of Heaven's light, or some other abnormally weird thing he would say.

  I slammed my eyes shut and took a much needed deep breath and exhaled so slowly that I could feel every molecule of air leave my body. I didn't look at my reflection again, I simply trudged to my cushy bed and flopped onto the dozen cloud-like pillows that littered across the oversized bed. Ahh yes, that is why I pay the big bucks for the "fancy" room my friends always complained about. If I was going to be away from home, I was going to at least enjoy the experience, and if I wanted to sleep and dream about a sexy Angel of No-Mercy, then I chose wisely.

  Lying down never felt so amazing. Like after you spend hours working in your yard or after a long hike when, at the end of the day, your body is screaming for rest but you truly feel accomplished. You lay down and it's as if your entire body sighs with relief. That's what it felt like. Complete bliss. Perhaps my body was getting used to rest and catching up the years of abuse I'd been giving it with insomnia, working three jobs at a time, and not caring about my health in general.

  The crisp, yet super soft, baby pink 1,000 thread-count Egyptian cotton sheets could have helped, too. I had a thing for comfy beds; sheets, comforters, and pillows were always my biggest splurge. I didn't like to spend money on much else besides books, food, and comfortable bed gear, so I knew nice sheets when I saw them. These bedrooms were the main selling point for me choosing this hotel when I found out about the tournament.

  I had done nothing in the room except for shower and head directly to the bed. No lights were on, no music or television, nothing but the hum of the air conditioning and then complete silence and pure comfort. The perfect setting for my mind to prepare for whatever exquisite torture awaited me the next time I could see him. Slipping under the fluffy down-filled comforter and across the amazingly soft sheets, I exhaled my way deeper into the pillow until I was nearly lost in the too-good-to-be-true bed.

  I glanced at the clock. 5:28. Awesome, I have time for a few hours nap and then off to my game. "Please God, let me see him tonight…" was my last thought before immediately drifting off.

  Chapter 4

  The air conditioning tickled across my skin causing me to stir from my slumber. Wait, whoa! That wasn't cool air, and I was not in my cushy hotel room anymore. I was with him. His breath was what I felt. Warm and… on my stomach? Oh sweet Lord, what was he doing to me!? Why can't I ever see him! Can a girl get a light switch, a lamp, cell phone glow, or something around here? At least in my dreams there are no horrible neon signs shining into my make believe love-nest to throw a dirty glow on a beautiful moment.

  "Mmm, well good evening, babydoll. Did you miss me?" he practically purred into every pore on my body.

  Thank you, God for listening to my begging. I'll be a good girl all day, I swear! "Good evening, perhaps. Did you miss me?"

  His soft chuckle against my belly made my entire body tense. "Of course, buttercup" he hummed, as he dropped feather-light kisses across my belly.

  Whoa, always just tossed right in the middle of dream world and right to the yumminess. Ok, I suppose I can live with this intensely awesome feeling. Now that I was here with Dream Man, I was at a loss for words, and wasn't sure what to say or do next. I just knew being next to him, was where I had been wanting to be, all day.

  Suddenly I remembered that I had been praying to be in bed with, and next to this man that I don't even know. I didn't know his name, or even what he looked like! How shameful! My mother would definitely have something to say about that. Perhaps now would be as good a time as any to ask some questions.

  "What is your name? Why can't I ever see you? Are you real? Where are we? Why me?" The interrogational barrage flowed from my mouth so quickly, even I was not ready for it.

  "Devin. It's dark. Yes. Here. Because." He answered deviously as he crawled up the bed and lay flush against my side and placed his hand on my belly, rubbing over the memory of the kisses left there.

  Infuriating male! How dare he answer my questions with minimal detail so I have to ask more questions, and then touch me to make me almost forget I had a point? Well, wasn't that just convenient and just like a damned man!?

  "Wow, thank you for that gloriously unspecific response." I fought out while trying to maintain control of myself. "Do you practice that, or is it a gift to be such a smart ass?"

  "Ooh, have I displeased you, cherub? I'm certain I can do much better next round. Try again?" Devin's words drifted across my neck and cheek. I wanted to see his face. Devin. That name reminded me of something, but I just couldn't put my finger on it. Sexy name, it reminded me of sin and chocolate. Where did that thought come from?

  "Ok, so now I know your name is Devin. I suppose I should introduce myself, I am Alexia. Alexia Riley. Even though you didn't give your last name. Your vagueness was truly astounding. Thanks so much for that. I truly should admit that I feel like such a skank right now. I have dreamed of you so many times and every time I do, we are in bed together. We never talk, I don't know what your face looks like, though I know what all of you feels like," and immediately face flamed with embarrassment as I continued, "I know what your kisses taste like and how you smell, but do not know the color of your eyes, hair or anything else, that would fulfill my curious minds need for visual confirmation that you are real. Though I do realize this is a dream and not at all "real" in the typical sense, but I'm sure you know what I mean. This is definitely backwards from how most people find and maintain an attraction or bond, don't you think?"

  "Pleasure is all mine, Alexia-dear," he muttered. "If you needed or wanted to see me, all you had to do was ask."

  That simple, hm? I was skeptical, but managed to squeak out "Please?"

  He didn't even twitch a single muscle, but suddenly the room was engulfed in flames. I nearly began to panic and jump from the bed to safety, but then realized that the flames weren't hurting or burning anything. Oh, of course! We are in my dreams, Duh! I remembered. The red-orange glow was dancing around the room as if the room was a giant fire-retardant material with candles covering every corner. A completely amazing sight like Aurora Borealis only more romantic, or deadly looking. The sight was breathtaking.

  The beauty of the room almost made me not able to notice the beauty of the man huddled next to me. The most clear crystal blue eyes I've ever seen, besides my own, stared down at me. His blue was more boy-next-door, all-American blue while mine was freak-of-nature aqua. Combating the boyish essence of his seemingly innocent eyes, was his low-cut black hair. Again, we matched in features but that is where the similarities ended. His hair was so short, almost as if he had recently shaved his head and it was just now growing back, but instead of spiky or hard, his hair was soft and perfect. His face was scruffy, the beard coming in at the same rate as the hair on his head. I knew his face was scruffy before I saw it because I could feel it but the rest, oh the rest needed serious attention.

  Suddenly, my eyes went to his lips. Oh what fantastic lips! I had felt them so many times all over my body and kissed them until I was nearly dizzy, but to see that perfect bow and the plumpness of his lips reminded me of Goddess lips. How you would envision perfection of a celestial being, but then some trickster God put them on this beautiful specimen of man! Just looking at them made me feel weak. Good thing I was laying down or we could have had a problem on our hands!

  As I inspected my dream man, he seemed to suddenly be amused and smiled the most heartbreakingly beautiful smile I've ever seen. I had always had a crush on the famous wr
estler, the Rock, for his gorgeous smile but Devin's smile put his to shame. It was like an angel was smiling at me. Completely gorgeous.

  This was the man that had crept into my dreams, giving my darkest desires to me, and wanted nothing in return? This dark angel of glorious deliciousness? Truly I was not that lucky or imaginative of a person! Man! If I can dream him up, imagine what else I was capable of! I should write a book.

  I had to take a mental snapshot then of this scene for myself, for later. There is no way anyone was ever going to believe it! The dream was so vivid and stunning that I wanted to keep it with me forever. Just as I was starting to have enough brain-function to speak again to ask Devin more questions, he looked to the left and nodded his head as if he was communicating with someone I could not see. He looked back into my eyes appearing suddenly saddened, let out a slow, exaggerated breath. Then leaned down and kissed me so urgently that he nearly fed on my lips for almost a full minute. My body immediately tingled and came to life to sink into the bed further. Bliss.

  "I'm sorry, honey-pie, but it's time for you to go now. Your five minutes are up."

  As I was about to protest, my body went limp and I suddenly woke up in my cushy hotel bed again. The angry red numbers on the bedside table screamed 5:33. Are you kidding me? Ask and you shall receive? Damn my luck! Of course I would ask for" five minutes" and get just that.

  Well, you know what they say, "Be careful what you wish for."

  Chapter 5

  Shaking my mini-adventure was nearly impossible. I felt happy, sad, crazy, scared, and so many emotions all at once that I started to realize that I was probably psychotic. Who has dreams vivid enough that when they wake up, their lips are swollen and tender and their skin is warm to the touch as if fire and hot-piece-of-man-meat was pressed against them like a second skin? I mean, really? I should really look into therapy when I get home. This is ridiculous.

  I shook my head and attempted to loosen the weirdness going on in my head and failed miserably. I stayed in my cozy hotel bed for as long as my mind would allow me to, which totaled about eleven minutes. More than double the time I had with Devin. Devin. Oh, now I had a name and a face to put to the emotional, and physical response I was having. Nice! That, however, was not a comfort when I was already missing him. So strange. I had truly sworn off men since Jamison's passing and had no real interest anymore in even wanting to look at men, much less roll around nearly (or completely!) naked with a total stranger!

  My spontaneous and rebellious sides wanted to give me credit for finally doing something wild and crazy for a change. I had always been the girl that followed the rules and acted appropriately in nearly every situation. I rarely got into trouble when I was younger because I was always so busy with my extracurricular activities, that I didn’t allow "free time" to just be young and stupid. I was always more focused on learning new things, reaching new heights, achieving goals, and being better every day. I was the classic over-achiever in every aspect.

  The other thing that kept me on an even path was Jamison. I met him when we were just children. Even at 13 years old, I knew he was going to be an important part of my life. Inseparable for nearly every moment of our childhood, we shared everything from bumps and bruises to family dramas, hospital visits, and our biggest life events, like getting scholarships, and deciding if we would be organ donors or not. We celebrated with and comforted each other through it all. We were the best of friends and just somehow knew that we were made for each other from day one.

  Deciding to be a couple was as simple as choosing what shoes to wear to do yard work. You know that one pair you have that you use all the time for dirty jobs? The ones that don't matter if you step in mud, blood, or anything else They are your solid, good, sturdy, reliable shoe that keeps you safe and cozy? Yeah, that was Jamison for me. He was there when I needed him and I never questioned if we could make it through anything. I just knew. Even when I was sad, pathetic, or any of the other things I was known to be, he was by my side for all of it. My easiest choice, and favorite comfort in all the world.

  Due to always having over-protective parents and an incredible partner-in-crime, I had never been the confrontational or abrasive ballsy type before. I was always the fun, tomboyish girl, even if a bit reserved and quiet around new people. My friends always said that it was always so nice to hang out with me because they would never have to worry about ending up going shopping, talking about boy bands, or anything like that with me. In fact, usually the most we would get ourselves into would be exploring the woods behind my house, playing video games, watching movies, and generally being silly.

  Jamison and I being attached at the hip sort of meant that if you had one as a friend, you automatically had the other. We were called all sorts of things over the years like "Perfect Pair" or something equally silly, but we didn't have to have some crazy nickname to know we were the best when together. It was just as natural, as breathing. Like peanut butter and jelly, sunshine and rainbows, or Jamison and Alexia. Our life together was simple, sweet, goofy, and perfect.

  Once, when we were in high school, a call came across that loud speaker to call me to the office. I was panicking and worried that something was wrong so I ran to the office like my life depended on it. When I walked in, he was standing there with flowers, a teddy bear, and an adorable grin. I asked what the fuss was all about as it was weeks until Valentine's Day and I saw no reason for the gifts. He simply said that it was his plan to start early to make sure that I was his Valentine, and that it was never too early or too late to woo his lady. He was always making sure that I knew he cared for me.

  When Jamison was taken from me, I closed myself off to everything and everyone for a while. It was as if I didn't know how to speak or feel without him. I didn't want to talk to anyone, much less eat or think. Everyone was so sympathetic and concerned for me every day. All I wanted was to be alone to grieve, and figure out my next move in life. The life we had been planning and building together for the last decade was suddenly impossible, and I needed to either make a new plan or give up in life; and I am just not the giving up type.

  I don't remember crying. I know I felt every other stage of grieving but the tears never came. Am I so broken that I couldn't even shed a tear for the love of my life? Or did his death just completely break my spirit. Steal my ability to feel anything anymore?

  I quit my job at the crime lab that I had been working for and immediately immersed myself into the world of professional poker. Why poker? I'm not even sure. I had always loved the game and was good at it. My father taught me when I was very young how to protect my emotions and keep them "close to the vest." He showed me the game and said that mastering it would help me through life. Maybe he was more right than I ever realized.

  No one in our neck of the woods was able to best me in a game of poker. Perhaps I chose it because you’re just you in the game. No need to speak, look at anyone except to pick apart their tiny actions, or do anything other than concentrate on what cards you have in your hand. How much money you have to play with, then bide your time until the exact right moment you find to evaluate someone else's weakness and pounce on ‘em. Maybe I wanted to finally have some power at something, or be able to take control. Maybe I’m just hiding from everything I once knew in search of my rightful place? It’s obviously not with Jamison. Without him, I’m just a lost soul.

  I glanced at the clock again and realized I still had over two hours until my first poker game was to start. My musings had taken up more time than I wanted to allow them. I had been awake a mere twenty minutes, now four times longer than I had with Devin, also known as the shortest five minutes of my life. Was I always going to measure things in Time-With-Devin o'clock?

  Though staying rolled up in the cushy bed sounded like a fantastic idea, I decided some dinner and a walk might cheer me up. I could grab a sandwich and head to the boardwalk for some nice musing time with the ocean and really calm my mind, before I had to go hide under my hoodie and
plot the assassination of everyone else at the table. I had not been playing professionally for very long, but what I lacked in experience, I made up for in skill, patience, and a keen eye for changes in behavior. I'm sure my family would be so proud - I took my expensive diploma in extensive knowledge of the human psyche, and turned it into a social psychological experiment. It was my advantage to gamble away my life savings. Or at least, that's how my father viewed my "job."

  Deciding that food and a walk, was truly the better option over agonizing over how much of a failure I had become to my entire family, I decided to pull myself up and find suitable clothing for the night. Padding across the lush carpeting, I glanced out of the window just in time to see a flash of something that looked like a large bird going past the window. Weird. My room was pretty high up. That bird must have really wanted whatever it was after this far up to work so hard. Or am I seeing things? Figures. I was starting to believe I had truly lost my mind.

  I shook my head and went for the closet to my meager collection of outfits hanging limply on the hangers. I really need to get some new clothes, but that would require shopping and caring, something I didn't have time for, or want either of those right now. Something in the closet currently would have to do. After looking at each thing at least three times, I just settled on the comfiest thing I brought with me - jeans.

  I didn't need to make an impression at the tables for tonight's game, so why bother? Jeans, my favorite t-shirt and my rainbow hoodie would do the trick. A hoodie is one of the things in a poker player's bag of tricks that can save them a lot of money and headaches. If someone gets too into the game, wants to hide from others, or simply just wants some privacy, the hood comes up and bam, you are in your own little world. I'd rather be in my own little world with cards in my hand, than anywhere else though. So my hoodie always came with me wherever I went. The rainbow pattern was my signature, and some of my rivals had even taken to calling me Rainbow Tight. Showing my hoodie of choice, and my form of play. Morons. What they call playing "tight," I call playing smart. I love when my victims don't even see me plotting their demise.