Page 51 of Read My Lips

Funny things for someone as permanently polished as Simon to appreciate.

“Wait – you think the third living room in their country mansion is unpretentious?”

The fronts of the cards flashed as he arched them back, and they folded into each other like leaves of paper in a book.

Simon snorted a laugh.

“Fair point.”

I picked a seat while he shuffled. Up the other end of the same sofa as him, close enough to read lips and play cards, far enough away we didn’t have to touch.

“Don’t you like it, as a room?” Simon asked. “I think it’s got a bit of soul to it. You can’t substitute for that if it’s not there to begin with. A bit like feelings.”

I squinted at him, trying to figure out whether he was really set on talking interior design.

“Feelings change though, don’t they? Sometimes.” Oh what was I wittering on about? He didn’t do dating or love. He didn’t have any feelings about me, other than as his interpreter. He’d spelled that out so clearly.

The cards stilled in Simon’s hands. Over the top of them, he watched me with the energy he’d had at the bus stop, and on the rooftop right before he kissed me. I still didn’t have a clue what he wanted.

“We should play Bullshit.” He handed me the deck like he expected me to know what to do.

“Remind me how that goes again?”

“Get rid of everything you’ve got before I do, any way you like, as long as you tell me what you’re putting down. Make it convincing, or pick it all back up again. You deal.”

I cut the deck a couple of times, managing not to fumble it. If I tried doing Simon’s fancy shuffle, I’d be playing 52 card pick up instead.

“What are we playing for – the fun of the game?” Simon leaned in. “Or would you like to make it more interesting?”

The edge of the pack buzzed under the strum of my thumbnail. If anyone knew Simon well enough to catch his poker face, it was me, but I didn’t have money to burn if he upped the stakes. The way he handled the cards suggested he was perfectly capable of thrashing me.

“How?”

“Oh I don’t know.” Deviousness flashed in his eyes. “Beat me, and I’ll tell you something true.”

My pulse swam with adrenaline. Fire, this was. I should have packed asbestos gloves to come and play. What did he want to know that he couldn’t come out and ask?

“And if you win?”

Simon’s eyes flashed intense like the rainstorm we’d been caught in. “Same terms apply, naturally.”

Oh hell. Both of us had to know I’d gladly let him soak me to the skin.

“Deal.”

Simon started with a pair of aces. Which made sense, because I didn’t have any. Not that I’d expected him to play it safe. I got rid of three queens, and bunched a non-matching pair together, ready for the next turn. Then bottled out, and put down a pair of tens instead. Maybe there were tactics I didn’t understand.

After the third pair of aces he set down with barefaced audacity, I cottoned on.

“Hang on a minute – you did that already.”

“Did I? Are you quite sure?”

“Yeah. Bullshit! Total bullshit.”

Sheer wickedness lit his face, and he flipped his last two cards up, to show exactly the cards he’d declared. “I think you’ll find it’s not. Outrageous accusation. How very dare you.”

“What? But you⁠—”