Robby’s got a secret. I’ve been waiting for him to spill since I started getting to know the guy back in ’06. We ewre working in the warehouse of one of those office supplies stores and we got to talkin’ one day. Turns out he’s a poker hound so I invited him ‘round to mine that night for my weekly poker night with my bodies: Karl, Jake, Ted, and Moose.

Robby really seemed like he’d fit in, so I didn’t bother to run it by the guys. That was my first mistake. Turns out he’s a little anti-social and a little mean spirited, but we figured hey, who isn’t sometimes. Right? Once he had a couple-a drinks in him, it was all goo. Boy did he rake in the dough that first night! We thought maybe it was a fluke—beginner’s luck with this group of guys—but he really was that good.

Over the years, he’s come to every weekly poker night like he was goin’ to Sunday Mass or somethin’. Never did I see a guy with such dedication to the game. The other guys, myself included, we miss games from time to time. Jake sometimes works late, especially during tax season. Sometimes Karl bypasses boy’s night when that honey he’s got on the side calls him up. Teddy’s part of an amateur soccer league and there are times when he’s gotta go to a game. Moose, well, he’s Moose. None of us quite know what that guy’s up to and frankly, I don’t think any of us want to. He is one depraved fuck. And me, well, I’ve got a little girl at home. Says she’s a ballerina. Ballerina’s have recitals. You catch my drift.

But Robby? None of that. In fact, I don’t know too much about him. Sure, he bullshits with the best of us, and has consistently for almost ten years, but I’ll be damned if I know where he grew up, if he’s got a girl, or kids, or, well, anything.

Yeah, Robby’s got a secret, all right, and I’m gonna pull it out of him tonight.

See the other guys, well, they’ve got their suspicions too. Jake says he’s a fruit. Doesn’t matter to me. Could be, I’ve never heard him talk about a woman—any woman, come to think of it. Ted’s willing to give the guy the benefit of the doubt—maybe he’s just a private person. Karl, well, Karl’s been thinkin’ maybe Robby’s got a Norman Bates thing goin’ on at home—dead mother locked in the basement and all. Says he feels a vibe. I don’t know; that’s a little fucked up for my tastes. Moose has got this idea that Robby is a drag queen—says he took a bunch of E and went to an all male review and swears on his mother’s grave that he saw Robby up there shaking his groove thing in a blonde wig and red corset. To tell you the truth: I just don’t know what to think. Could be Jake and Moose are onto something. There’s been times where Robby’s come to work with a hint of what looks like rouge on his cheeks and some flakes of glittery nail polish on his jeans.

The gang’s all here and we’re just waiting on Robby showin’ up.

Ted shuffles the cards and says, “Where’s Robby? It’s not like him to be late.”

“Probably having a hard time wiping all that shimmer from his face from last night’s show!” shouts Moose as he laughs into the crook of his arm.

“Maybe he’s having a hell of a time over at the Sunoco. You know, they have a glory hole in that bathroom?” says Karl.

Robby walks in just then with a 24-pack of Miller High Life and goes, “What’s that about glory holes, Karl? You tryin’ to tell us somethin’?”

We all have a good, guttural laugh at that and get down to business. Jake deals and we play our first hand, then it’s time for wings. Shit, it’s always time for wings.

The night goes by like it usually does, but this time is different. Every time I look at Robby, I see somethin’ new. Somethin’ bad. He’s got scratches all up and down his arms and neck. His left eye gets blacker as the game wears on and I swear I see blood under his nails. I’m not the only one who notices neither. I glance over at the guys and can tell that at least Jake, Karl, and Teddy are in fact seein’ what I’m seein’. I can never be sure about whatever it is that Moose is seein’ though.

Karl gives me a nod as if to say it’s now or never. We put our cards down in unison and look at Robby. He goes, “You cunts foldin’ already? What a pack of wussies you are tonight.”

“No,” I says, “Robby, we gotta talk.”

He takes a swig of his beer and goes, “Well then talk.”

“Robs, what are those scratches from on your arms? They look deep.” says Karl.

“And is that a black eye? What in God’s name happened?” asks Teddy.

Jake turns stern. He says, “Robby, look at me. Is that blood under your nails?”

At the mention of blood, I swear to God, the most evil expression comes over Robby’s face. It’s like his eyes have completely blacked out with storm clouds and alls he can see is darkness. He doesn’t say a word.

Moose doesn’t either. He’s right next to Robby and staring at his right arm. His mouth drops open and then I see it too: a painted nail. Moose plucks it out and says softly, “Robby, why you got a nail in your skin?”

Robby pushes himself back from the table and feigns remorse. He looks down and starts wringing his hands, but I know it’s an act. Somethin’ in his eyes.

He goes, “Come on. I’ll show you.”

He takes us out to his car and I don’t know why, but I’m shit scared. We go ‘round to the trunk and he opens it up.

Moose starts screaming. Screaming. I wish I could scream, but I don’t think I can. Teddy falls down on the ground, clutching his left arm. I think he’s having a heart attack, but I can’t help him. Jake and Karl lunge for Robby to make sure he doesn’t try to escape, but he’s not tryin’. He likes this too much. That’s what that deep, soft laugh is tellin’ me. I can’t take my eyes off the trunk, though. It’s dripping blood. Inside is the body of a dismembered woman. Or is it two? Three?