Several games later, the table was tight with tension. A swollen pot glimmered at the center, pulling every eye toward it. Jake was struggling, so Charlie had folded earlier and leaned in behind him, quietly coaching his nephew. Only four players remained: Rodney, Jake with Charlie at his side, Austin, and Lenny.
Rodney studied his cards with a slow, deliberate intensity, tugging at his earlobe as if it were some secret signal to the universe. "I'll see you, and raise twenty," he declared, voice sharp and confident.
Charlie leaned over Jake's shoulder, whispering under his breath, "I think he's got you, pal."
Jake's eyes narrowed, and he mimicked the careful analysis he'd been watching all night. "He's bluffing," he whispered back, voice barely audible. "Always pulls his ear when he bluffs."
Rodney's gaze swept the table, then he pulled at his ear again. "How about it, Mighty Mouse? You in?"
Charlie's jaw tightened in astonishment. He could barely believe what he was witnessing. "Take him down," he murmured, urging Jake quietly.
Jake's small hands hovered over his chips, then, with the quiet decisiveness of a seasoned gambler, he shoved them into the pot. "Call you," he said, eyes fixed on Rodney.
Lenny leaned back, grinning. "Adorable. The kids think they can play at the high tables. Don't quit your day jobs—oh wait, you don't have any."
Even Charlie couldn't hide a chuckle. Kenny and Doug smirked knowingly, as if watching a puppy try to bite a steak.
Unfazed, Lenny shoved his own stack forward. "All in."
Across the table, Austin's nerves practically shook the air. He tapped his fingers—index, middle, thumb—rapid little bursts like hooves on a battlefield. His eyes darted from his tiny pile to the looming pot, then back to Rodney's unreadable stare. His jaw tightened, his shoulders trembled.
Then, suddenly steady: "All in," he declared.
"All in? Oh, kid, you're desperate. That's cute. Didn't the adults ever teach you not to gable when you are desperate?" mocked Lenny.
Rodney, now facing Jake and Charlie, felt a bead of sweat trickle down his temple. He stared at his cards, eyes narrowing, calculating, second-guessing himself. Finally, with a frustrated exhale, he threw his hand down. "I fold," he muttered, unable to keep up with the sheer audacity at the table.
Jake's eyes gleamed with a mixture of excitement and nerves. Charlie leaned close, whispering, "Let's do this. Push through."
With synchronized determination, they both slid their chips forward. "All in," Charlie said, and Jake echoed it, the room suddenly electric with tension.
The pot swelled, trembling at the center of the table. Every eye was locked on the showdown.
Austin's breathing came fast, shallow. Yet behind the nerves, something flickered in his eyes—mischief.
"Why are you two so confident?" he asked, calm now.
Jake grinned. "Because you make this weird sound whenever you've got a bad hand. Like a horse gallop." He mimicked Austin's rhythm on the table: tap-tap-thump, tap-tap-thump.
Lenny burst out laughing. "It's true! Every time!"
Austin's anxious mask melted into a sly, deliberate smile. The room froze at the transformation.
"This," Austin said, raising a finger, "is what I call the Dog Bell Experiment. Inspired by Pavlov."
Lenny squinted. "Pavlov? What do dogs and bells have to do with poker?"
"Conditioning," Austin explained smoothly. "Pavlov rang a bell every time he fed his dogs. Eventually, they'd salivate at the sound alone. Stimulus, response."
He leaned forward, eyes glinting. "Over the past rounds, I fed you little signals—tapping, sighs, nervous tics. Every time I had a weak hand, I gave you the same cues. And you ate it up. You thought I was just nervous. But really? I was training you."
Rodney muttered under his breath, "No way…"
Lenny frowned, trying to wave it off. "Cute story, kid, but a story doesn't win a hand. Show the cards already."
Austin's grin sharpened. "Gladly."
He placed his cards down with deliberate rhythm.
First the Ten of Hearts.
Then the Jack.
The Queen.
The King.
Gasps rippled across the table. The adults leaned forward, the silence sharp as a knife.
And then, with agonizing slowness, Austin set down the final card: the Ace of Hearts.
A royal flush.
The silence exploded.
Charlie's jaw dropped, then split into a grin as wide as the table. "Holy—! The absolute best hand in poker!" He slapped Austin on the back so hard the boy nearly tumbled forward.
Kenny leaned over, squinting at the spread. "That's… that's the top. You literally cannot beat that."
Doug whistled low. "Kid's sitting on the only hand that takes everything."
Jake sat frozen, staring at the glittering fan of hearts as though his world had collapsed. His hand went limp on his tiny chip stack, and he gave it a halfhearted poke with one finger. His voice was flat, sulking. "That's… not fair."
Charlie ruffled his hair affectionately. "That's poker, champ."
Across the table, Lenny's smirk had evaporated. He slumped in his chair, pale and slack-jawed, as if the floor had just dropped beneath him. "No… no, no. That's impossible. You planned that?!"
Austin's grin widened, the smugness undeniable. "Gentlemen, meet the Dog Bell Experiment in action. You were the dogs. The pot was your dinner bell. And now—" he tapped the cards, knuckles rapping the felt like a gavel—"I eat."
The chips clattered as the dealer dragged the swollen mountain toward Austin's side of the table. The pile seemed to grow with every inch, towering like a fortress in front of him.
Kenny shook his head, still half-laughing. "He played us. The kid actually played us."
Rodney rubbed his temples, muttering, "I folded to a twelve-year-old. Conditioned like some lab rat."
Doug chuckled, slapping the table. "Not just you. He had all of us wrapped around his little finger."
Charlie whooped and suddenly scooped Austin up out of his chair, spinning him in a wild circle. "This kid's a genius! Absolute genius!" Austin's legs kicked as he laughed breathlessly, his cheeks flushed with victory.
Jake scowled at the scene, sulking deeper into his chair. "I was supposed to win something tonight," he mumbled, stabbing at his sad little stack of chips like it had betrayed him.
Lenny leaned forward, still shaking his head. "You got lucky, that's all. A royal flush doesn't just happen like that."
Austin tilted his head, expression calm and deadly. "Luck gets you the cards. But training you to misplay them? That was me."
Kenny snorted. "Kid's right. We all thought we were reading him, when he was the one pulling the strings."
Rodney let out a long sigh, finally managing a rueful chuckle. "Guess the underdog rings the bell now."
The tension broke into overlapping voices—some laughing, some groaning, all acknowledging they'd been beaten fair and square. The adults, still half-incredulous, kept replaying the last few rounds in their minds, realizing every twitch, every sigh had been bait.
And that's when Alan stepped through the door. His eyes fell on the chaotic tableau: Charlie red-faced and howling with laughter as he spun Austin like a trophy, Austin flushed and beaming atop a fortress of chips, Jake sulking into his chair, and the rest of the adults shaking their heads, still stunned at how a kid had outplayed them all.