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I throw down the card.
“A two of diamonds.”
“See? It’s easy. I take your eyes and . . .”
He draws a card.
“Give you an ace of clubs.”
I take a card.
“I take your bullshit and give you a nine of hearts.”
“Fun, isn’t it?”
“It’s fucking ridiculous.”
“I take your arrogance and give you a jack of hearts.”
“How do we know who’s won? How do we add up the points?”
“I’ll show you when we get through the deck. By the way, the winner gets to take one of the loser’s fingers. Your stunt last night is what reminded me of the game.”
“The guards won’t let us have knives.”
“Then the winner will just have to gnaw off his prize.”
We play a few more hands and the game doesn’t make any more sense than when we started. I can’t find a pattern in the taking or giving. Mason is tossing out numbers, body parts, places, and animals. There’s nothing I can do but follow his lead.
“I don’t know what the hell I’m doing.”
“Did you always know what you were doing in the arena? Just keep going.”
I draw a card.
“I don’t believe you about Candy, by the way.”
“Believe what you want. You heard what she said.”
“Whatever you drugged her with, it scrambled her brain. That wasn’t truth coming out. It was paranoid hallucinations or something.”
“She’s a creature that needs shelter. Her doctor friend, Kinski, died. You were convenient. Don’t mistake refuge for love.”
“I take you trying to mind-fuck me and give you a six of clubs.”
“You should take this more seriously. Remember sweet Alice? Thinking about her let me beat you once before. All these little people you think you care about now are ruining your concentration. Don’t make the same mistake you made eleven years ago.”
We run through a few more nonsense hands. I’m not going to win. I have to salvage something from this.
“Tell me about Blackburn.”
“The late great. What about him?”
“Why did you kill him?”
“Did I?”
He takes my soul and throws a five.
