"Red, let's go!"

I couldn't help but snort out a loud sigh every time Red shuffled cards. Rush-hour traffic moved faster than him, and it made our games go on forever. Not that I minded so much. This was our time to bond, to unwind, to talk and smoke cigars while dealing with everything life was throwing our way.

But still, it was painful to watch him with those cards.

"Sorry, Mase. I'm going as fast as I can," he said, sitting across from me at our new home away from home—Spades. The brand spanking new, bi-level game room off King Road was like a mini-casino, and had all the amenities of one, too: tables for black jack, poker and general card playing, 5 pool tables, an entire room full of slot machines and a huge bar that housed not only top-shelf liquor, but six oversized flat screen TVs. Heaven, I say. 

The place had opened about two months ago, and after we originally went in one night to kill some time while on a stakeout, it quickly became our weekly hangout spot. Just me and Red. Tonight, we were in our usual spot, a table on the second level, way in the back.

"So, what are you gonna do, Mase?" Red asked, finally dealing the cards.

"Besides beat you?" I said with a smirk on my face, never taking my eyes off my cards.

"Ha, real funny," he said, collecting his cards. "I didn't mean that, though. I mean, what are you gonna do about your mother?"

I finally looked up and involuntarily put on a screwface, mainly because I had no idea. Everything I'd tried to get her to tell me where Sheldon was, or if he was even alive, got me nothing. I even went so far as to think about threatening to kick her out of my house, but there's no way I could ever do that. And live to tell about it.

Shit.

"I don't know, Red." I threw out the first card. "I'm at my wit's end right now. She's my mother, so I can't disrespect her. And even when I think I can try, I see that belly sticking out, and I lose my nerve. I'm afraid if I go at her hard, something might go wrong. Any sevens?"

"I hear you, Mase. I walked into the bathroom and went to pee while Jean was in there, and she started cursing at me and telling me to get out. Oh, and no. Any nines?"

"Damn, for real? Why in the world did she curse at you? Nope, any sixes?"

"I don't know. Something about my flushing the toilet while she was in the shower. Go figure. Oh, and Go Fish!"

I looked at Red, burst out laughing and couldn't stop. Tears were forming. I loved hanging out with this guy.

"Mase, what's so funny? You're usually upset when I tell you to Go Fish."

I threw my cards down on the table and wiped my watering eyes with my hand. "Red, you're amazing."

"What? I haven't beat you yet. Let me do that, and then you can call me amazing."

"Huh? No, I meant—"

Our conversation was stopped in mid-sentence when Lockie, our favorite Jamaican waiter, came by asking if we wanted refills. I'd nicknamed him that because, well, he had locs.

"My bredren, more of the same?" he asked, referring to our usuals. I loved it when he came by, if only because Red would put on the worst Jamaican accent in the history of life, thinking he was cool. Lockie hated it.

"Yeah, one more," I said, handing him the empty Red Stripe bottle.

"Yeah, mon," Red said. "Me, too, mon."

Lockie gave him the side-eye, while taking up his glass. "And would you like cherries with your Shirley Temple this time?"

"Yeah, mon. About tree, please." Lockie walked away, shaking his head.

"Red, I keep telling you that is the worst accent I've ever heard. You need to stop. That dude's gonna step to you with a busted bottle one day."

"Huh? No way. Lockie loves that. We're connecting," he said, motioning with his two fingers in front of his eyes.

"Yeah, OK. Whatever you say." I shuffled the cards quickly, looking in Red's direction. He leaned against the table with his hand. "What's wrong?"

"I keep thinking about Alex, and about how he would've loved to be here with us talking. He didn't look good when I saw him the other day, Mase. Not good at all."

"Tell me about it. Seeing him in there, in those awful prison clothes, that shit's just not fair. We need to be doing more to get him out of there."

"All we can do is pray that the justice system works. I mean, if he's innocent, it'll be proven, right?"

"Fuck the justice system," I yelled, before remembering where we were and lowering my voice. "Justice ain't for all, Red." 

"Yanni says that all the time," Red responded, holding his cards. "There's gotta be something we can do."

"There is," I said, picking up my Cohiba. "We're gonna play the game."

"What game?"

"This game," I said, pointing down at the cards on the table.

"Aren't we playing it now?" Red said, confused.

"What's the name of the game, Red?"

"Go Fish."

"That's right. We're gonna go fishing . . . for some Sheldon."

"Now, you're talkin'." Red smiled and picked up his cards just as Lockie returned with the drinks. "Any threes?"