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Gideon laughed and shook his head. “No, no. That would be too obvious. And I won’t tell you, so there’s no point guessing.”
“Damn.” She sighed. “Oh! What about Dick Van Dyke? I don’t think that guy’s ever going to die.”
“I just said I’m not telling you anything.” He leaned forward to deal out the flop.
In the flop was a third eight. Fantastic. She pondered her move for a moment before betting a low amount. She could probably pick up a full house by the time they ran out the turn and the river, and she wanted to trick him into betting more than he should. “You’re no fun.”
“Clearly.”
In the moment of silence while he debated his next move, she snapped her fingers. “Tony Bennett.”
He flinched.
“Hah! I knew I’d guess one!” She laughed. “You, my friend, have a terrible poker face.”
“It might be time to retire him,” he muttered. “People are going to start noticing.”
Now she had a new favorite game to amuse herself with on the long flight. She didn’t know what kind of chaos was waiting for them in Istanbul. But she had a drink, she had a pet dead rat snuggled up on her lap, she had cards, her best friend, and her tormenter-turned-doctor-turned-lover who seemed to revel in her teasing of him, even as he pretended to be annoyed.
Things could be worse.
A lot worse.
Something told her when things inevitably went bad, however, she wouldn’t have a whole lot of a say in the matter. She just hoped she got a say in how it all ended.
Don’t jinx it, dummy.
