“She really is perfect for you,”  Brigitte said to Tara who was looking through Brigitte’s things and had picked up a flask of whiskey.

“You’re not drinking already this morning, are you?”

“Hair of the dog.  Long night. Look the bruises are nothing.  Just some work-related injuries.”

“When did Broadway get so brutal?”

Brigitte shook her head, “I’m not in a show.  I’m not auditioning right now.”

Tara stood up a bit straighter.  “Then what ARE you doing?” Oriana emerged and nodded, agreeing with the question as she sat down.

“I might have let you believe that the cash I fronted you was Dad’s when it was really mine.”  She said with a small smirk. “I won it.”

“Won it?”

“Fighting.  I’ve … been visiting a club where you can fight for cash.”

Tara’s look of horror was only matched by Oriana’s look of excitement. They spoke at the same time.

“It’s not as bad as you think.” “How much can you make?”

“NOT AS BAD!”  Tara shook her head as Oriana frowned, “You look like you were hit by a train!”

“Not a train.  Just. Men. Sometimes women.  Mostly men. And my best single night was a million-dollar pot.”

“New deal. Take a couple of weeks off to heal. I’ll train you and Tara in hand to hand. You’re a natural, Brigitte, from what I heard about Rome. Spend some time with me and I’ll turn you into a pro.” She glanced at Tara. “Frankly, you’re probably better with a gun. Your grappling is… effective.” Ori smirked.  “But you can still benefit from some hand to hand. Let me train both of you. Then we can make a killing at this place- and you’ll be able to defend yourself better.”

“I love the idea.” Brigitte smiled.

“If Dad finds out…”

“He won’t.  You won’t tell him.”  Brigitte warned.

“Why would he care? It’s practice for self-defense. He cares about you, wants you protected. He’ll get it,” she said, convinced of her logic but not her knowledge of Billy.

“You don’t know how he is about Brigitte.  The only reason he hasn’t figured it out yet is that he’s so distracted with Victoria, but when she doesn’t need that stupid bed anymore and she’s a normal baby he will find out.  There’s no fight club in New York that he doesn’t know about.”

“Who said it was in New York?”  Brigitte smiled.  

“And if she likes it, no one should stop her doing it,” said Oriana emphatically.

Tara sighed.  “How… how the hell did you get mixed up in this?”

Brigitte shrugged and sat down on her bed, “Rex got me in touch with a guy.”

“Rex?  As in Rome, Rex?  As in big scary nearly stomped your skull in Rex?”

Brigitte looked at the floor as Tara brought up Rex stomping her.  “Well, we’re friends. An ocean between us. Nothing happening there.  Just… associates. You need not worry your pretty little head about anything happening between us.”

Tara looked to Oriana and back to Brigitte.  She realized there was no way she was winning this, even if everything about it felt wrong.  “A million you say? And none of what I lost last night was Dad’s?”

“Not a dime.”  Brigitte met her sister’s eyes.

“I’m so going to regret this…”  Tara said shaking her head. “Alright.  We’ll train with Ori and … fight at this place of yours.  Now, spill, where the hell is it and who is running it?”

“Luca Amato.  Upstate. It’s a real classy establishment.  Not like the club in Rome. A lot better environment, fighters aren’t trying to kill each other… just… be the last one standing.”

“Sounds like I’ve got something on my calendar, then. But the more immediate problem is raising cash. This game down in Philly sounds like the best shot of making something happen today.” Her eyes flicked up to Brigitte. “You coming? We could help run interference for Tara, keep peoples’ eyes elsewhere. You’d have to avoid showing too much skin with all those bruises, but I’m sure you’ve got something in your closet there.”

“I can be distracting and modest.  It’s a gift.”

Oriana rolled her eyes. “Uh-huh.”

“Amato… Rosalyn?”

“His cousin.  It’s how I met her.”  Brigitte smiled. “Don’t worry about her bothering you again, I explained things to her.  She knows better now.”

Tara swallowed, “Good.  I don’t want things to get weird.  Honestly, I don’t really see what you thought she could bring to the table…”

“I thought she made that clear.”  Brigitte pulled out a cigarette and smirked.  “Whores.”

Tara nodded.  “Ah. Well, I guess that explains more than a few things.  So… Philly is a good option but we still need to come up with the buy-in.”

“I was thinking we should talk to Gavin.”

“Are you insane?”  Tara asked her sister.

“Only on Tuesdays.  Today is not Tuesday so you’re good.  I was thinking we should ask Gavin to loan us his briefcase.  We’ll pay him back when you win.”

“But what if I don’t win?”

“You’ll win,”  Brigitte said confidently.  “You ate those guys alive last night.  You’re almost as good at poker as I am at taking a hit.”  

Oriana smirked. “Besides, you’ll have an advantage. I’ll be entering as well.”

“I thought you said you didn’t have any cash?  New business and all that?” Tara arched an eyebrow.

“Well… I’ll try to weasel my way in. How much is the buy-in?”

“One million.”  Brigitte looked at Oriana, “If you need help with the buy-in I bet we could convince Jack to let you have access to his case.  He’d be even easier to convince than Gavin. Just tell him you’ll put in a good word for him with Mirella… I hear she’s on the warpath since the girls moved in.”

“It’s for the best,”  Tara said flatly. “He can’t marry Mirella.  She’s his cousin.”

“Very distant and it happens all the time in Sicily.”

“This isn’t Sicily,”  Tara said flatly.

Brigitte stood up.  “So, we pack up, tell mom and dad we’re spending the weekend in Philly and that’s that.  We’ll brow some cash from our brothers and win them back their cash and everything you need to buy that property on the Hudson.  Easy peasy.”

“Yeah, no pressure,”  Tara said softly. “You’re lucky I like poker better than my suicidally crazy sister.”

Brigitte chuckled, “Tuesdays only.  Besides, just think of how great it’s going to feel to know you did it all on your own just the way you wanted to.  Last night was a setback, that’s all. Dad loses all the time. The trick is, don’t stop.”

“The trick is to know when to stop.”  Tara corrected, “But that’s why I’m the gambler and you’re… whatever it is you’re doing.”

“Fighter works.  Gladiator is fine too.  Or, if you want, I’ve been called Valkyrie.”

Oriana’s eyes gleamed. “I love it.” She had already started planning something.

Tara rolled her eyes at her sister’s flourish.  “Of course you have a stage name for fighting too.”

“All good members of this family have a nickname, Tara.”

“Animals,”  Tara added.

“Whatever.  I’m not quite like everyone else so mine is special.”  She folded a few more items and put them into her suitcase. 

Oriana stood up and stretched, wincing from her headache. “Alright. I’m going home to change before I pop out of this blouse. See you guys in an hour or two, we’ll head down to-.”

Tara muttered, “I like the blouse on you…”  

“- uh huh. Philly.”

Brigitte smirked but said nothing finding her suitcase very interesting.

Tara stood up and kissed Oriana on the cheek.  “I’ll see you later then.”

“Yep. Thanks for the… everything.”

Tara blushed.

“You need an apartment,”  Brigitte said to Tara before Oriana had even left the room.

“And Brigitte. In the future… you ice right away. But afterward, stick with the heat on bruises to help with circulation. And, uh, this might sound weird, but… pineapple. Eat a bunch of it. Rub the juice on the bruises.”

“Good to know.  Thanks, Orin. You’re a peach.” Brigitte smiled at Oriana and turned back to her packing.

With a last wink at Tara, Ori exited.

***

The poker game on the riverboat was packed. There were dozens of players and more than a few spectators,  mostly attractive women there looking for a leg up- or two- on meeting a lucky new millionaire. The three girls took a private flight in comfortable clothing, then rented a hotel room to change.

Oriana was wearing a navy blue dress with a plunging neckline accentuated by a long, gleaming silver necklace; the dress ended just above her knee.

Tara dressed for comfort despite what Brigitte had begged her to do and then Tara found that, somewhat amusingly, Brigitte actually approved of her outfit... with a few touches.

Her gray slacks and blouse were masculine but tailored to her body.  Darts were strategically placed to show off the curve at her hips and the roundness of her backside. Brigitte merely opened the top few buttons, added a very showy necklace, some matching earrings, as well as boots with a dramatic heel that made Tara feel too tall.

Brigitte, on the other hand, was a vision.  Tara was stunned as she came out of the bathroom wearing a dress that at first glance appeared to be nothing but embroidered flowers strategically placed over her vital bits and a few extra for accents.  It was only upon closer inspection did she realize the dress itself was made of fabric the same shade as Brigitte's fair skin. The adornments were meant to create the illusion that she was walking about in attire better suited to Eve in the Garden of Eden than mafia princess on a riverboat in Philadelphia.

The boat was large but with all the guests milling about, it felt confined.  There wasn’t space for anything to go unseen, perhaps this was why the host had decided to run the tournament here.  It also meant that Tara had to keep her flirtations with Oriana to whispers, occasional brushes past each other in moments when they got up to stretch or refresh.  It was sweet torture, but torture none the less. A distraction she was happy to not have at her table for the most part. Not having her leggy girlfriend at the table let her keep focused on the cards, on what was in play, what had already been played and the faces of the men in front of her.  Most were not so good at hiding their emotions. That twinkle in their eyes, the twitch of a lip after they peaked at their cards for the first time. She watched for the common tells Uncle Will had pointed out to her and found that almost everyone had something from his list - much to her relief.

At the first break, Tara found that Oriana had taken some serious hits but was, to her credit, hanging on.  Brigitte had a fan club well-formed and following her around the boat by that break as well and she made a point of intercepting Tara to introduce her to some of her new friends who had eyes only for the golden blonde ‘starlet’ in front of them.  Tara tried not to think about all the bruises on her sister’s body and how these men had no idea the sort of woman they were so enamored with.

As the tournament continued and the stars emerged in the sky, players disappeared from the tables. The final table had seven men and three women- two of them were Tara and Oriana. 

Oriana had just lost a big hand, losing 90% of her stack; she’d had a flush, but someone else had had a higher one. Tara, however, had more chips than anyone.

Tara said, "You know... my grandparents used to do this… Grandpa was the card player... Grandma was..." Tara looked Ori up and down slowly, purposefully, conveying her intentions with only her eyes.  Realizing that it wasn’t something to be acted on now she merely chuckled.

“...eye candy?” Oriana looked down at her stack and sighed. “ I get it, that's me.”

"I was going to say the real prize but,”  Tara shrugged. “but ... if you must."

“... I like that better, actually.”

At the second break, Tara and Oriana strolled out to the deck. Tara glanced at Oriana, "Want to make a side bet with me?"

“What's the bet?”

Tara waved Oriana forward and when her lover leaned in she whispered into her ear, "I win, I get a kiss."

Oriana rolled her eyes. “What if you lose?”

"If I lose... tell me what you want."

"A time machine so I can go back and win this poker game. For now, why don't you just focus on the game and stop staring at me. Since I showed up at your table you've lost like 50 thousand chips."

"Lost?  Oh. I haven’t lost them.  I know exactly where they are."

Oriana smirked.  "That was silly of you. I must look good tonight. Too distracting."

“You look delicious..." said Tara.

“Well, you’re going to look broke soon if you’re not careful.” The break ended and the players were called back in. 

"Don’t worry so much.  I’m just utilizing an old Byrne technique… called … watch me."  Tara made a point to walk around Oriana to get back to her seat so she could pinch the other woman’s bottom side casually.

Play continued, and Tara folded the first hand. “Watch you fold?” asked Oriana. Her gloating smile hadn’t yet faded when Tara won a huge pot, knocking out a very aggressive competitor.

"Take my side bet.”  Tara urged, “Name your prize.  I’m going to win this… and when I do,"  Tara did something she rarely did, she giggled.  Ori smiled, slipped her foot out of her shoe, and gently rubbed it against Tara’s calf. As the game continued, Oriana eventually got knocked out, followed by a few other players. Eventually, it was just Tara, a blonde man, and someone who looked Hispanic left at the table. Oriana, brow furrowed in frustration, stood in the spectator area watching the game.

Tara found herself consumed with the cards in her hand, tunnel vision had set in and while she knew she’d made it far enough to have earned back all her brothers’ money and enough for the property she wanted - she still longed to take home the entire pot.

Two hands in, she was up.  The third wasn’t so kind. She made a comeback with the fourth and fifth but a failed hope for a flush in the sixth sealed her fate.  Tara ended third. She tossed her cards in on the final hand and received a rousing amount of applause from the assembled observers but it pained Tara she hadn’t done better.

Brigitte came bounding up and hugged her as she stepped away from the table.  “You did it!”  

Tara hugged her sister in return and looked over Brigitte’s shoulder to Oriana who was approaching them slowly, watching her intently.  How she could look at her like that when she had just lost, Tara wasn’t sure.

“Looks like you won quite a bunch of money, there. A few million, at least.”

Tara sighed.

Oriana lowered her voice as Brigitte stepped away, “And me.”

Tara couldn’t help but smile at that, responding in an equally quiet whisper, “Best prize at the table.  So… worth it.”