Walking Disaster

politely.
    “It’s nice to meet you, Abby,” Thomas said with a smile. Abby wouldn’t have noticed, but Thomas’s expression was a front for what he was really doing: analyzing her
every word and movement. Thomas was always on the lookout for someone that could potentially rock our already rickety boat. Waves weren’t welcome, and Thomas had always made it his job to
calm potential storms.
    Dad can’t take it,
he used to say. None of us could argue with that logic. When one or a few of us found ourselves in trouble, we would go to Thomas, and he would take care of it
before Dad could find out. Years of fostering a bunch of rowdy, violent boys made a man out of Thomas far earlier than anyone should be expected to be. We all respected him for it, including my
father, but years of being our protector left him a little overbearing at times. But Abby stood, smiling and oblivious to the fact that she was now a target, under scrutiny by the family
guardian.
    “Really nice,” Trenton said, his eyes roving over places that would have gotten anyone else killed.
    Dad slapped the back of Trenton’s head and he yelped.
    “What’d I say?” he said, rubbing the back of his head.
    “Have a seat, Abby. Watch us take Trav’s money,” Tyler said.
    I pulled out a chair for Abby, and she sat. I glared at Trenton, and he responded with only a wink. Smart-ass.
    “You knew Stu Unger?” Abby asked, pointing to a dusty photo.
    I couldn’t believe my ears.
    Dad’s eyes brightened. “You know who Stu Unger is?”
    Abby nodded. “My dad’s a fan, too.”
    Dad stood up, pointing to the dusty picture beside it. “And that’s Doyle Brunson, there.”
    Abby smiled. “My dad saw him play, once. He’s unbelievable.”
    “Trav’s granddaddy was a professional. We take poker very seriously around here.” Dad smiled.
    Not only had Abby never mentioned the fact that she knew anything about poker, it was also the first time I’d ever heard her speak of her dad.
    As we watched Trenton shuffle and deal, I tried to forget what had just happened. With her long legs, slight but perfectly proportioned curves, and big eyes, Abby was stunningly gorgeous, but
knowing Stu Unger by name already made her a huge hit with my family. I sat up a little taller in my seat. No way would any of my brothers bring home anyone that could top
that
.
    Trenton raised an eyebrow. “You wanna play, Abby?”
    She shook her head. “I don’t think I should.”
    “You don’t know how?” Dad asked.
    I leaned over to kiss her forehead. “Play . . . I’ll teach you.”
    “You should just kiss your money goodbye, now, Abby.” Thomas laughed.
    Abby pressed her lips together and dug into her purse, pulling out two fifties. She held them out to Dad, waiting patiently while he traded them for chips. Trenton smiled, eager to take
advantage of her confidence.
    “I have faith in Travis’s teaching skills,” Abby said.
    Taylor clapped. “Hells yeah! I’m going to get rich tonight!”
    “Let’s start small this time,” Dad said, throwing in a five-dollar chip.
    Trenton dealt, and I fanned out Abby’s hand. “Have you ever played?”
    “It’s been a while.” She nodded.
    “Go Fish doesn’t count, Pollyanna,” Trenton said, looking at his cards.
    “Shut your hole, Trent,” I growled, throwing him a quick threatening look before returning to Abby’s cards. “You’re shooting for higher cards, consecutive numbers,
and if you’re really lucky, in the same suit.”
    We lost the first few rounds, but then Abby refused to let me help her. After that, she started to pick it up pretty quickly. Three hands later, she had kicked all of their asses without
blinking.
    “Bullshit!” Trenton whined. “Beginner’s luck sucks!”
    “You’ve got a fast learner, Trav,” Dad said, moving his mouth around his cigar.
    I took a sip of my beer, feeling like the king of the world. “You’re makin’ me proud, Pigeon!”
    “Thanks.”
    “Those that cannot do, teach,” Thomas said, smirking.
    “Very funny, asshole,” I murmured.
    “Get the girl a beer,” Dad said, an amused smile lifting his already puffy cheeks.
    I gladly hopped up, pulled a bottle from the fridge, and used the already cracked edge of the countertop to pop off the cap. Abby smiled when I placed the beer in front of her and didn’t
hesitate to take one of her signature man-size swigs.
    She wiped her lips with the back of her hand, and then waited on my dad to put in his