Table Legend
Miss Odessa
Washington, D.C.
Signature move: The audit — she knows your hand better than you do
“That's the third time you've undercounted, sugar. I kept a list.”
Thirty-one years processing claims for the federal government, and Miss Odessa brought every bit of it home to the card table. She counts everything. Books, bids, trumps out, tricks left — and, on a separate mental ledger, every excuse you’ve ever made. She has never once needed to write anything down. Paper is for people who forget.
The glasses come down her nose when she’s about to correct the record. The gold chains mean it’s Saturday. The green blouse means somebody’s getting set.
Odessa notices the young ones, though she’d never admit to it. There’s a girl named Zora who’s been posted up in the corner of the community-center games, quiet as a held ace, watching Odessa’s every discard. Odessa has started playing just a little slower when the girl is there — leaving the lesson open, the way somebody once left it open for her.