Haven’s POV
“Gin!” declares my father as he lays down the cards on the bed table. I feel my insides sink with competitive defeat as I look at the cards he put down. I count them, just to make sure. Sometimes, my father gets confused or tries to slip one by me playfully just to make sure I am paying attention.
Sure enough, there is a perfect gin spread. A run of four diamonds, three kings, and a run of three hearts.
“Sure enough. Are you sure you are not stacking the deck? This is your sixth hand in a row,” I say in a teasing accusation.
It is a running joke that my father should have worked in Vegas as a card dealer because of how good he was. Once upon a time, he used to learn dozens of card tricks for shits and giggles. He was quite the entertainer before he got sick.
Well, still is an entertainer. He just is a little slower and achy with his sleight-of-hand tricks.