Poker Face

Victor pins the bartender to the damp, concrete wall of the cellar. “Tell me, Frankie!” he demands loudly.

“I swear, Vick! I didn’t tell them!” Frankie flinches, afraid the bouncer’s fists would do the talking for him. “Honest!”

He wasn’t lying.

Victor knew when Frankie lied. They’ve been friends for years and played poker together for just as long.

Frankie stumbles when the bouncer lets go, the collar of his T-shirt stretched out.

“I don’t get it, Frankie.” Victor sighs with a shaky breath. “Who told them?”

The bartender furrows his brow, sympathetic toward his friend. “I’m sorry, Vick, but I don’t know.”

Victor slowly turns to Frankie. That was a lie.