Betting on Hope

Chapter 9



Tanner was home putting a new washer in the kitchen sink faucet when his cell phone rang.

“Yeah,” he said. He could hear noise in the background; it sounded like the casino.

He coul





“Tanner, it’s Marty.”

Tanner put down the wrench and pulled out a chair. Apart from poker tournaments, he hadn’t had as much face time with the Jersey crew in his entire life as he’d had in the last two days.

“Marty. What’s up?”

“Listen. About last night. What you said to Hope.”

“What I said to her? I just told her to go home.”

“Yeah, I know what you said. Weary told me. Don’t say crap like that no more to her.”

“What do you mean, Marty? She was at the bar, she was on her way to having too much to drink, she’d lost too much money. People got problems with losing, they shouldn’t play.” Tanner shook his head. It was probably a good thing he didn’t see more of the Jersey gang. He was starting to talk just like Marty.

“Not Hope. She got scared a little, is all. She’s out of practice, but she’s a fine card player. And now she needs the money.”

“What’s so important that she’d jeopardize everything?”

“She isn’t jeopardizing everything, you numbskull. That’s what I’m telling you. She played cards and she lost a few hands. That’s it. Now listen to me. You made her cry, and that ain’t right.”

“I made her cry?” Tanner was shocked. He was used to Troy’s tantrums and tears, and sometimes to his dismay he’d evoked tears from women he’d dated when he failed to meet their expectations. But when he’d seen her, Hope hadn’t cried. She’d told him to go to hell. He hadn’t thought he’d gotten through to her. Maybe he had. But he sure as hell didn’t want to bully women in bars until they cried. Even if it was for their own good. Which, apparently, Marty the Sneak didn’t think it was.

He wouldn’t have wanted to make Hope cry in a million years.

“She cried, because of what you said,” Marty went on. “You made her feel bad. Question herself. And you set her back a half-day. She’s playing on a clock here, and we all gotta pitch in. If you’re gonna help, okay. If not, find somebody else in the card room to preach to.”

“Marty, really, I wasn’t preaching, I just—”

“Yeah, yeah, I know, you saw Hope, a real pretty girl, and you got an itch you wanted to scratch. I understand that. But she ain’t your type. I known her a lot longer than you, so you can trust me on that.”

“Marty, hold on here,” Tanner said. “You’re way ahead of the game. I—”

“No, I ain’t,” Marty said. “I seen the way you look at her, and I know how long you date somebody, about twice each one, am I right?”

“That’s a little exaggerated. I—”

“I got nothing against you, Tanner. I like you, even, as much as I know you. You straightened up. You’re a good card player. But right now, Hope don’t need no distractions. She’s in the casino to work. So either help her or butt out.”

“Well, I could help,” Tanner said, feeling flattened.

“Just so you understand,” Marty said, and hung up.

Tanner blinked, staring at his phone, before he finally hung up, too. What did I do? I just wanted to save a damsel in distress. And before he knew it, Marty had torn a strip off him.

At least now he understood why the McNaughton sisters called the Jersey crew their uncles. Nobody could have protected Hope better.

That’s what he’d tried to do last night, too, but evidently he’d been on the wrong track. Help her, Marty had said. Tanner picked up his wrench. Well, okay then. He’d help.



Promptly at three-thirty, Hope rang the bell on Baby’s suite, and Drake opened the door.

“Oh, you,” he said. “The comedian.” He walked away, leaving the door open for her.

“Anybody could get in here,” Hope called after him. “I could be somebody dangerous.”

“I wish,” he called back, and Hope heard the television in the background. Sports, she thought, but when she walked through, looking for Baby, she saw it was an investment program on cable.

“Grain futures tanked,” Drake said. “Too late now, if you were in deep.”

“Not me,” Hope said. “The only thing I’m deep in is unpaid bills.”

“Better than grain futures,” Drake said, as Hope moved on to the bedroom, still looking for Baby.

Baby was standing in front of the mirror, staring at herself but not making any adjustments.

“Baby?” Hope entered the room. “Is something wrong?”

“I think so,” Baby said. “Big Julie, he always wants to do me in the morning. I dint even see him this morning. He said he was out all night playing cards, and he fell asleep drunk at the game. Do you believe that?” She turned to look at Hope.

Hope blinked, not sure if Baby was being rhetorical or really wanted an answer. “Um,” she said.

“But then he finally shows up like at noon, and he doesn’t want to do me? That’s the best time for him.” She lowered his voice. “He’s not young anymore, you know? He used to take Viagra, but then he didn’t need it with me. That’s what he said. But he sure needed it this morning.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t be telling me this,” Hope said. “Big Julie probably wouldn’t like it.” As much as I don’t.

“I shouldn’t say he didn’t want to do me,” Baby said. “We got naked, all right. He was all, Baby, take your clothes off, and I was all, anything you want, Big Julie. So he goes, do me a little dance, and—”

“Baby,” Hope said. “Maybe we should go shopping?” But even the magic word failed to penetrate Baby’s misery.

“So I’m doing my little dance but it’s going nowhere, if you get the picture, and after a half-hour at least, he just rolls over and falls asleep! What does that mean?”

“I think there’s a sale at the premium outlets, if you want to go there.” Hope tried to keep the desperation out of her voice. She’d gotten much more of a picture than she wanted.

“I’ll tell you what I think it means,” Baby said. “It means he don’t want me no more.”

“Sixty percent off!” Hope said.

“Or it could mean that he did somebody else this morning.” Baby paused, thinking. “If he did, I’ll kill him.”

“Or we could go to your favorite places, wherever you want,” Hope said. “You could show me.”

“I don’t see how it could have been some young chick,” Baby said, looking at her flawless, twenty-five-year-old face in the mirror with no apparent irony. “Where did he meet her? He’s been with me all the time. I been keeping him totally satisfied.”

“It’s a mystery,” Hope said. “You want to go now?”

“Marilyn knew he was here,” Baby said. “But how could he be doing her? She’s back in Jersey and she must be fifty at least. You think maybe she came out here and put a hex on him or something?”

“If she did, you’ll need a new outfit,” Hope said. “Probably more than one.”

“You know, you’re right,” Baby said, determination glinting in her eyes. “What are we waiting for? Let’s get out of here.”



Hope soon realized that Baby’s fears about the extent of Big Julie’s affections had put her in a fiercely competitive shopping mood.

“That plastic is gonna melt,” Baby declared as Hope parked in the premium outlet mall parking lot. “We are gonna do some damage.”

Hope could already feel the pain her feet would be in by the time Baby got done melting Big Julie’s credit cards. “I don’t really need anything,” she said, grabbing her purse from the back seat. “But I’ll tag along.”

“Big Julie said you need new clothes,” Baby said, pulling down the visor and frowning into the mirror on the back to check her lipstick. She turned and glanced at Hope. “And no offense, but he’s right. You could do better.”

Hope glanced down at her clothes. She was wearing a white tank top and loose khaki cargo shorts that came to her knees with sport sandals. In the desert heat of Las Vegas, which was at least fifteen degrees hotter than the ranch, nothing else made sense. She didn’t look as fantastic as Baby, but she didn’t require as much upkeep, either, and she was as cool as she could be. That had to count for something.

“Baby, it’s too hot to wear anything else.”

“I’ve seen what you wear,” Baby said. “You always wear stuff like that.”

“It’s practical,” HopHope said, knowing that to Baby, practicality had about as much appeal as dumpster diving.

“Practical,” Baby sniffed. “We’re getting you an outfit. It’ll be fun.” Her voice had the iron will of a marine drill sergeant.

Hope sighed and followed Baby into the outlet mall.

“Baby, you can’t pick out clothes for me,” Hope said, feeling harassed. I’ll wind up looking like you. Like a, a—cupcake.

“We’re just looking,” Baby said, pausing at the mall directory, “but you’re sticking with me because you got the fashion sense of a dishrag.”

“That’s harsh,” Hope said, a little stung. “Come on, Baby. Clothes aren’t everything. I’m comfortable.”

“Yeah, you and Santa Claus. So you wanna wear a red pantsuit with white fur trim? I didn’t think so. They got some good stuff here. Let’s check it out.”

At the first store, Baby stopped in front of the window and shook her head. “Look at that,” she said. “Bows and sailor collars! Like we’re five years old.”

“The bows look stupid,” Hope agreed. Baby looked at her suspiciously.

“They do,” Hope said.

“Well, that’s something,” Baby said.

They moved on to the next window.

“Never wear anything with writing,” Baby said, dismissing a famous designer in five words.

At the next store, Baby stopped. “In here,” she said.

They went in. Hope had heard of the designer, but she always shopped online from catalog retailers. She idly browsed the racks, fingering the softness of the fabrics. It wouldn’t be hard to get used to this, she thought, putting the garments back.

Baby flipped through the clothes, checking sizes and pulling out colors. Then she took an armload of selections back to the fitting room. “Pick something out,” she ordered Hope. “You’re getting an outfit. At least one.”

Hope laughed as she watched Baby disappear into the back of the store. Well, why not? She’d made seven thousand dollars this morning. She would win another seven thousand tonight. If she bought an outfit, she’d still be way ahead. And here was Baby, her personal shopper, more than willing to help.

She looked more seriously at the clothes. They had a lot more flair than the things she usually bought. She went through the racks, considering, and finally picked out a cute linen blouse in chocolate brown and a pair of tan slacks with notches at the ankles, both of which were on sale, and went back to try them on. There she found Baby in the hallway, inspecting herself critically in front of the mirror.

“What’ve you got there?” Baby asked, looking at Hope’s choices, and then recoiled almost in horror. “No, no, no! Beige? Is this what they teach you at whatever college you went to? You should not be allowed to shop alone.”

Personal shopper with attitude, Hope thought, annoyed.

“What’s wrong with this? It’s neutral. I like it.”

Baby rolled her eyes and spun Hope around until she faced the mirror. “Look at you,” she said. “You got a nice body. Okay, not as good as mine, goes without saying. But you got nice boobs, hardly sagging at all yet.”

“Hey,” Hope said. Her annoyance flared higher.

Baby leaned back to look at Hope’s rear. “Pretty good butt—”

If she says, ‘hardly sagging at all yet,’ Hope thought, I’m going back to the car.

“—and pretty good legs. You’re maybe, what? A little short-waisted. So, really, you can wear almost any style. And look at your coloring. Blue eyes. And your skin’s good. I bet you don’t even do anything to get that, do you?” Baby’s voice had taken on an accusing note.

Hope blinked. “Moisturizer. I moisturize. A lot.”

Baby snorted in disdain. “Moisturizer. Your skin’s almost as good as mine. And you’re even older than me! And look at your hair. I bet you’re a natural blonde.”

“Well, yeah, all my family—”

“So you’re a blue-eyed blonde with a peaches-and-cream complexion, and you got a showgirl’s body and you want to wear beige. Hello? Is anybody home at your personal fashion mall?”

“Hey,” Hope said.

“Seriously,” Baby said.

“I don’t want to be a slave to fashion,” Hope said, feeling dumb even as she said it. Not only had she never been a slave to fashion, she’d never even gone to work for it, not even as a temp. She barely had a nodding acquaintance with fashion. If fashion showed up looking like a movie star and wearing a name tag, Hope probably wouldn’t recognize it.

Baby, on the other hand, was a slave to fashion, and what did it get her? Boyfriends. Money. Glamour. Trips to Vegas.

“Don’t be dumb,” Baby said now, taking the clothes away and handing them to a passing clerk to restock. “Nice clothes feel better. They look better on you, and looking good gives you confidence. They last longer, too.” Then she relented.

“Come on. Let’s see what else they have.”

The next two hours were eye-opening for Hope, who had never shopped for clothing that was anything but basic. First came the sleeveless, cowl neck knit top in deep cobalt blue. The cowl dropped in the front, exposing a deep V of cleavage.

“That outline is perfect on you,” a clerk said, nodding to her as she bustled by.

Hope stared after her. Was she nuts? She felt utterly, completely exposed in the clingy, silky top.

“I can’t wear this,” she said.

“Yes, you can,” Baby said. “It’s perfect.” She stood next to Hope and twitched the hem. “See how it shows off your boobs?”

“Yes,” Hope said. “That’s what I mean.” She looked at her breasts, which seemed eager to burst through the top. Like her body had a point team, two of them, moving in front of her at all times to clear the way before she got there. All Hope could see when she looked at herself was breast.

A second sales clerk breezed by, holding an armload of hangers. “That top looks great on you!” she said.

“See?” Baby said.

“She’s paid to say that,” Hope said.

“You are making me mad,” Baby said. “Go out to the front and walk in front of anybody. See what happens.”

I’m making her mad? Hope scowled, but she went out to the front of the store and jammed some of Baby’s rejects back onto a rack.

“What a lovely top,” another shopper said. “Is it on sale?”

Hope glanced at Baby who smiled in smug satisfaction. “It is,” Hope said, feeling trapped. “Right over there. More colors, too.”

“It’s terrific,” the shopper said, going over to the rack Hope pointed out.

Hope headed back to the fitting roomsopHo.

“That settles it,” she said to Baby. “I can’t buy it. People will stare at me.”

“You will buy it, and you will wear it,” said Baby, the marine drill sergeant. “It looks fantastic on you. And it’s washable. You’ll like that. It’s—what’s that word again? Practical.”

Two hours later, Hope was burdened with shopping bags. How did this happen? And how much did I spend? Thanks to Baby’s forcefulness, Hope had bought several new outfits—halter tops and wraparound tops and camis with spaghetti straps. She owned a new pair of Bermudas, a pair of cropped pants, a pair of loose linen slacks, and a perfectly tailored pencil skirt. She had accessories. She had shoes. And she had an utterly fantastic sundress with a sweetheart neckline and a pattern of orange butterflies down the front. She didn’t know where she’d wear it, but the second she saw it she couldn’t resist it. She loved it. She couldn’t believe it, that she could love a dress like that.

“Everything was on sale,” Baby said soothingly as they headed back to the car. Hope’s shopping bags banged against her legs as she trundled her purchases out to the parking lot. She felt acutely anxious. The clothes were pretty, and she had to admit that they’d looked great on her. But she’d never worn clothes like this. Revealing, body-conscious clothes. They seemed too—risky. Not like her. She felt like a sailor charting unexplored seas.

“I’ve never done this before,” Hope said as they got into the car. “Gone shopping like this, I mean. For fun. With a, a friend. And bought clothes like this. I’ve never worn clothes like this.”

“I never would have guessed,” Baby said, rolling her eyes. “Aren’t you glad? You gotta know how nice those things are.”

“I guess.” Hope glanced doubtfully at the load of shopping bags in the back seat of the car. But will I have the nerve to wear them?