Chapter Ten
:: Max ::
Thirty nine hours. Specifically, it took thirty nine and a quarter hours of straight playing before the last hand of Hold 'Em was played. It had come down to Max and a professional World Series of Poker champ from Salt Lake City, Utah. After a game of back and forth with small bets, the champ shoved his entire pile of chips into the center.
Max had a split second where he thought about folding. The chattering crowd grew silent. As Phoebe bit her nails down to absolute dullness, Max pushed his entire stack in. He had mentally calculated the odds and he felt confident. His four of a kind could only be beat by a straight or royal flush. He laid his cards down at the same time as the champ and slapped his palms on the felt tabletop in triumph.
"Four of a kind beats full house. DuBeau wins!"
Phoebe screamed in his ear. She wrapped her arms around his neck and he laughed, loosening her grip slightly so he could at least breathe. He was close to hyperventilating even without her stronghold.
He had just won two million dollars. Between that and Phoebe's second place blackjack win, they had won 2.5 million dollars without even counting their buy-ins.
Maxlandia was at his fingertips.
"Get some sleep and we'll talk over brunch," Tony whispered as the tournament official presented Max with a fake giant check. Max had always wanted one of those checks. He knew they weren't worth anything, but it was just cool to hold something so ridiculously large.
It was just a shame it didn't have his real name on it.
Exhaustion hit him the second the adrenaline faded. Almost everyone had disbanded. It was eerie in the room. Tables were empty. Half full drink glasses sat on abandoned seats. The smell of smoke lingered. Phoebe waited for him by the door. Her tournament had ended hours ago, but she had stuck by to watch his games play out. She gave him a tired smile.
"Good job."
"You too."
Max slung his suit jacket over his shoulder as they headed to the elevator. They entered the empty cab and Max pressed the button for their floor. Phoebe's head came to rest on his shoulder.
Their kiss had been the only other thing besides card hands and probabilities he had focused on for the past twenty hours. Sitting at the poker table had given him ample time to mentally argue with himself.
It was the best kiss he had ever had and, modesty aside (not that he was ever modest), Max had kissed a lot of girls. He was fairly sure he had kissed almost every single girl in their graduating class at Hero U.
Now that Phoebe was included in that count, he was fairly sure he had kissed every single girl. But no one else had created that spark.
Why her?
The elevator doors slid open and Phoebe slowly lifted her head. They made their way to the room, Max trailing behind a step. Phoebe scanned her card and pushed the door open. Max followed her in. He stared at the bed hungrily; he wanted nothing more than to just crash. He didn't want to argue over sleeping in the tub, wear five layers of clothes, or make a pillow wall that they were just going to demolish. He turned towards the bathroom before they could even have the time to strategize.
Fifteen minutes later, he came out in a pair of boxers, the suit relegated to the back of the bathroom door. Phoebe was already curled up on her side of the bed, under the comforter. Max flung back the comforter on his side and slid under the warm, but not too warm, spread. He was relieved to see she hadn't wasted time with the pillow wall. His eyelids felt like concrete. He was sure sleep would find him in seconds.
A half hour later, his eyes were closed, but he was still awake. He turned from his back to his side. He thought of everything he could do with two million dollars. He thought about how he could buy a huge ass bed like the amazing one he was currently in.
Try as he might, he couldn't go to sleep. Something felt off…
"Are you asleep?"
Phoebe's whisper sailed through the darkness.
"No," Max whispered. "I can't sleep."
"Me either."
The room grew silent. Max thought about the last sleep he had...more than 48 hours ago. Phoebe had gotten up before him for the training session. He remembered having a great dream involving a swing, but it was fuzzy now.
"Pheebs?"
"Yeah?"
"Where'd we sleep the other night?"
She took so long to answer Max thought for a moment she had fallen asleep.
"In here."
"Where?"
Again she didn't answer. Instead he felt her back press against his chest. He felt her long bare legs, her strong calves against his legs. She took his arm, wrapping it around her waist, and let out a shuddery breath.
"Here."
Max pressed his face into her hair. His body instantly felt lighter.
"Pheebs?"
This time she really didn't answer. She was already asleep in his arms. He held her tighter and, as his mind finally allowed him to pass into the land of dreams, he felt their breathing sync.
The sound of their room phone ringing woke them up the next morning. Somehow they had intertwined even more during the night. Max unhooked Phoebe's leg from his own as he dove towards the base.
"H-Bonjour?"
"Meet us in Room 304 in twenty minutes."
The line went dead. Max put the receiver back.
"Who was that?"
Max flipped back over. He had been counting on it being Tony. He looked over at Phoebe. She was blurry. He had forgotten to take the contacts out; they had dried out his eyes after being in so long.
"Diego. We've got what I'm sure is going to be a fun meeting in twenty minutes," he said sarcastically.
"Gameplan?"
"We give them $500,000 and keep the rest."
"You mean keep the rest to give back to Mom and dad and replenish some of the other accounts."
Max made a face. Phoebe gave him a look.
"What? I won it fair and square!"
She folded her arms under her chest. His vision wasn't blurry enough not to notice her cleavage in the v neck she wore.
Mrs. Wong in the shower…
"Fine," he sighed. "Or…"
"Or?"
"We let them have a bigger cut to get them to tag us in on the weapon. The weapon's the key to the reward." Max was really trying not to stare. "And getting back to normal."
"Back to normal," Phoebe repeated. She nodded. "That's probably the better plan. The sooner the better, right?"
"Right," Max faltered. "Right?"
"Right," Phoebe nodded. She slid out of the bed and headed towards the bathroom.
Max wasn't positive, but he thought he heard another under the breath 'Right?' The water turned on. Max checked his watch.
They had to move fast.
"You only have five minutes!" he yelled out.
"What?"
"Five minutes!"
She didn't answer. He paced the room. Six minutes later, the water shut off. Three minutes later he was still waiting. Knowing his shower time was gone, he threw on a wrinkled dress shirt and pants.
The bathroom door creaked open another minute later. Phoebe crept out in a towel.
"I forgot my clothes," she apologized.
"Then no quips about my pit stink," he warned. She smiled.
"I make no promises."
Max looked around for his tie. As Phoebe opened her suitcase, Max spotted a tie that had accidentally got mixed up with all her girlie stuff.
It was a testament to how screwed up his mind had become that instead of concentrating on summoning the tie he thought about the towel. Before he realized what was happening, he was holding the towel. The shock seemed to turn her into a statue. A frozen, curved in all the right places, statue. A small black feather was intricately etched above her...
"I just wanted that t...t...tie," Max stammered. "Tie," he repeated in a strangled voice.
His voice snapped her back into motion. She slid into a dress so fast that she became a whirl of green fabric. Her face was scarlet. She grabbed a bra and underwear and, sending the tie sailing towards his head with a flick of her fingers, ran back into the bathroom, slamming the door.
Max sank down on the bed, tie in hands. He blinked rapidly, but the image was burned into his mind.
He was officially going to Hell.