other guests arrived while she was gone and there was no one here to greet them when they finally got here?
Anna paced back and forth across the living room, wringing her hands. She took a detour to the window, hoping to see someone approaching the house, but there was no one there. She sighed. Had she gone to all this trouble for nothing?
She’d spent weeks picking out all the decorations. Joe Bob had never, ever let her come within a mile of one of his “guy’s night outs” before, and she was dying of curiosity to see what happened during all these poker games. She wanted everything to be perfect. She wanted all the boys to want to come back.
She’d set out the green felt-top table and bought everyone buttons to pin to their shirt. They were battery-operated gadgets with red flashing lights that said stuff like “High Roller” and “Pit Boss.” She’d also put up seventies-style beaded curtains all around the room, except they were made of strings of various sizes of red dice instead of beads. She’d also bought everyone their very own pair of green suspenders covered in diamonds, hearts, clubs, and spades, and matching green transparent visors to match. Mylar balloons decorated with cards and dice were tied to the back of every player’s chair, and she’d set up a real fancy slot machine centerpiece on the green felt table to spruce it up. Everything was looking mighty fine. Joe Bob was sure to be proud of her handiwork.
Her doorbell rang, playing the melody to Stars and Stripes Forever. Her interchangeable custom chimes were the envy of all the women in the neighborhood.
She plastered on a big, welcoming smile and threw the door wide. A little man with a big cigar in his mouth stood at her entryway, puffing foul smoke into the house. It was Dick Richardson, who she knew through Joe Bob, of course—but even if she hadn’t, she couldn’t have failed to recognize him from his obnoxious television commercials. Anna didn’t want to let him in with the cigar, but she didn’t want to be rude either, especially since this was her very first poker party. Her dismay must have shown on her face.
“What? No smoking in the house?” Dick asked.
“Well. . .” Anna said.
Dick took a long drag from the cigar, dropped it on her custom welcome mat, and ground it out with his foot. “Don’t worry about it,” Dick said. “Long as you got Jack and Coke in the house, everything’ll be fine.”
Anna eyed the ruined mat. Well, it wasn’t like she couldn’t get another one. Joe Bob always gave her plenty of spending money. And who could expect men to really pay attention to niceties like welcome mats, anyway? Men would be men.
Dick strode past her into the room and eyed the set-up. He let out a low whistle. “Wow,” he said. “You sure got the place done up.”
Anna beamed with pride. “You like it?”
“It’s. . . something else,” Dick said.
Anna couldn’t help but notice the look of astonishment on his face as he took in the balloons, pins, dice curtains, and centerpiece. That wow-factor had been exactly what she’d been going for. She felt herself warming up to Dick in spite of the whole cigar incident.
“Don’t tell me I’m the first one here,” Dick said.
“You are. For the life of me, I can’t account for everyone else. Sit down. Let me get you a drink.”
She bustled into the kitchen to pour him a Jack and Coke. She had tried to bake a spade-shaped cake, but the darn thing had burned, so there were no refreshments other than the booze.
She returned to present Dick with his drink when her doorbell chimed again.
This time it was old Judge Hooper, the town’s criminal court judge. Judge Hooper was a nice, elderly man with a kind grin who walked with a cane. He didn’t show up on her doorstep with a cigar. No siree. She ushered him in and he patted her on the back kindly.
“How you doing, little lady?” he asked, and looked around. “My goodness. Ain’t you just gone all out!”
“Nothing but the best for you,” Anna said, smiling. Really, she ought to host poker games more often. She couldn’t understand why Joe Bob had always seemed so against it.
Right then, she heard Joe Bob slam through the back door. He stomped into the living room and stopped short.
“I’ll be darned. It’s worse than I thought,” he said.