Shark
Meech
Atlanta, Georgia — Zone 6, and he will mention it
Signature move: The careless-looking lead that was never careless once in its life
“Go ahead and underestimate me. I'll wait.”
Meech knows exactly what you think when he sits down — the chains, the tattoos, the cap turned back. He’s watched a hundred strangers make the same face and then make the same mistake: bidding loose against a man they’ve already decided can’t count. Meech counts. Meech has always counted. His grandmother ran a card table out of her kitchen in Atlanta for thirty years, and Meech kept the score pad from the time he was eight — every book, every set, every debt, in pencil, in a composition notebook he still has.
The chains were his big brother’s. That’s all he’ll say about that, and the table goes respectful for a second, and then he deals.
He plays exact, quiet, and a little cold — right up until his partner makes their bid, at which point Meech turns into the loudest, proudest teammate you have ever heard in your life. It’s the one thing that breaks the poker face. Folks at his regular table have started making their bids just to see it.