Amber, who wanted to be a chef—her nice family no doubt at home, and here was Hope, sitting inebriated on a bar stool, thinking she’d get rich quick.
Gambling could be a sickness, and when he saw people throwing their lives away, it made Tanner angry.
“Go home, Hope,” he said, trying to be gentle. “You don’t need a lot of money. You need to spend time with your family.”
Now Hope sat up very straight, and her eyes blazed. “ ‘I love long stories,’” she mocked his words in a high-toned voice. “ ‘Tell me.’” She brought her voice back to normal, if strident with contempt could be called normal. “First you ask me to tell you, and now you won’t listen. You don’t know what I need.”
“I know that playing cards to get rich quick isn’t the answer.”
“There’s nothing you can tell me about card players,” she snorted. “Vegas would be so much nicer without them.”
“So you want to join the ranks?” Tanner asked, annoyed in spite of himself. “Think about what you’re doing. But think about it at home.”
Hope dug a bill out of her purse and dropped it on the bar, sliding carefully off the stool.
“I’ll go home,” she said, as she walked away, “if you’ll go to hell.”
Tanner watched Hope walk a little too carefully toward the ladies room. That went well. From the moment he’d thought about hot accountants who could cook a guy’s books to the second she told him to go to hell not five minutes later, Tanner had reached a new record in alienating women. Not even Troy could get that mad at him that fast.
The door to the restroom drifted shut after her. She’d probably be all right, but he pulled out his cell phone and called Marty. And then while he waited to make sure that someone came and took care of her, he pulled out a deck of cards and started practicing his old tricks. He needed to be ready next week, when Big Julie would not be too despondent to play cards.
Hope splashed water on her face in the ladies room, feeling the coolness take some of the heat from her cheeks. She was furious with Tanner Wingate, but she knew she was angry because his cautionary words reflected her own fears. She’d been sitting at that bar nursing a drink, terrified and upset at what she’d done.
She’d lost two thousand dollars.
She’d needed to earn the two hundred thousand for her stake, so she’d been playing at the thirty-dollar table. Then, faster than she could have imagined, she was two thousand down. She’d lost a couple of big pots in a dozen or so hands, and when she looked down and saw her chip pile, how small it had shrunk, she’d felt sick. She’d jumped up and left the game.
From her own experience she knew that every card player, even the very best, lost a lot—a lot of hands, and a lot of money. Maybe they lost even most of the time. But if you brought your skill to the table, if you were good, you’d win. If you were good enough, you’d win.
She knew that. But when she’d looked up and seen that she’d lost two thousand dollars in a half-hour, she’d panicked. Run.
Two thousand dollars! All that money, just gone. At that rate, not only would she not raise her stake to play Big Julie for the ranch, but she’d drive her family into the poorhouse before the night was over. She’d lose the ranch and the shirt off their backs, too. They’d wind up worse off than before, if that were possible.
She went into a stall and sat on the toilet seat, looking at the blank metal door. Tanner Wingate had a patronizing, know-it-all attitude, but maybe he was right. Maybe she shouldn’t play cards. Maybe she should just let the ranch go. Maybe that would be better. Two thousand dollars could have bought a lot, if she hadn’t just thrown it away.
On the other side of the stall door, she heard the restroom door open, water run, footsteps recede. To her relief, no line had formed for her stall.
Should she keep playing? Maybe she’d lost her skill, as well as her money. If she couldn’t win, she shouldn’t play. They’d lose the ranch—but at least they wouldn’t be bankrupt as well as homeless.
She heard the door open, an exclamation, the door closed. The restroom was very quiet.
Well, she was done for now. She’d played, she’d lost,