Which, come to think of it, was probably why there weren’t any women gamblers. Living with men was enough of a gamble. She fought the urge to turn around and look at the beast on the landing again. Really, the smart thing to do was stop dating and get a cat.
“You know she won’t go talk to him,” Bonnie was saying to Liza. “Statistically speaking, the probable outcome is not favorable.”
“Screw that.” Liza nudged Min and sloshed the Coke in her glass. “Imagine your mother if you brought that to the wedding. She might even let you eat carbs.” She looked at Bonnie. “What’s his name?”
“Calvin Morrisey,” Bonnie said. “Wendy was buying wedding magazines when he left her. She was writing ‘Wendy Sue Morrisey’ on scrap paper.”
Liza looked appalled. “That’s probably why he left.”
“Calvin Morrisey.” Against her better judgment, Min turned back to watch him again.
“Go over there,” Liza said, prodding her with one long fingernail, “and tell David you hope his rash clears up soon. Then introduce yourself to the beast, smile, and don’t talk statistics.”
“That would be shallow,” Min said. “I’m thirty-three. I’m mature. I don’t care if I have a date to my sister’s wedding. I’m a better person than that.” She thought about her mother’s face when she got the news that David was history. No, I’m not.
“No, you’re not,” Liza said. “You’re just too chicken to cross the room.”
“I suppose it might work.” Bonnie frowned across the room. “And you can dump him after the wedding and give him a taste of his own medicine.”
“Yeah, that’s the ticket.” Liza rolled her eyes. “Do it for Wendy and the rest of the girls.”
He was in profile now, talking to David. The man should be on coins, Min thought. Of course, looking that beautiful, he probably never dated the terminally chubby. At least, not without sneering. And she’d been sneered at enough for one night.
“No,” Min said and turned back to the bar. Really, a cat was a good idea.
“Look, Stats,” Liza said, exasperated, “I know you’re conservative, but you’re damn near solidifying lately. Dating David must have been like dating concrete. And then there’s your apartment. Even your furniture is stagnant.”
“My furniture is my grandmother’s,” Min said stiffly.
“Exactly. Your butt’s been on it since you were born. You need a change. And if you don’t make that change on your own, I will have to help you.”
Min’s blood ran cold. “No.”
“Don’t threaten her,” Bonnie said to Liza. “She’ll change, she’ll grow. Won’t you, Min?”
Min looked back at the landing, and suddenly going over there seemed like a good idea. She could stand under that ugly wrought-iron railing and eavesdrop, and then if Calvin Morrisey sounded even remotely nice—ha, what were the chances?—she could go up and say something sweet to David and get an intro, and Liza would not have movers come in while she was at work and throw out her furniture.
“Don’t make me do this for you,” Liza said.
Standing at a roulette wheel bar sulking wasn’t doing anything for her. And with all she knew ahead of time, it wasn’t likely that he could inflict much damage. Min squared her shoulders and took a deep breath. “I’m going in, coach.”
“Do not say ‘percent’ at any time for the rest of the night,” Liza said, and Min straightened her gray-checked jacket and said a short prayer that she’d think of a great pick-up line before she got to the landing and made a fool of herself. In which case, she’d just spit on the beast, push David over the railing, and go get that cat.
“Just so there’s a plan,” she said to herself and started across the floor.
Up on the landing, Cal Morrisey was thinking seriously about pushing David Fisk over the railing. I should have moved faster when I saw them coming, he thought. It was Tony’s fault.
“You know, that redhead has great legs,” Tony had said. “See her? At the bar, in the purple with the zippers? You suppose she likes football players?”
“You haven’t played football in fifteen years.” Cal had sipped his drink, easing into an alcohol-tinged peace that was broken only slightly when somebody with no taste in music played “Hound Dog.” As far as he was concerned the only two drawbacks to the place were the stupid decor and the fact that Elvis Presley was on the jukebox.
“All right, it’s been a while since I played, but she doesn’t know that.” Tony looked back at the redhead. “I got ten bucks says she’ll leave with me. I’ll use my chaos theory line.”
“No bet,” Cal said. “Although that is a terrible line, so that would shorten the odds.” He squinted across the room to the roulette wheel bar. The redhead was flashy, which meant she was Tony’s type. There was a little blonde there, too, the perky kind, their friend Roger’s dream date. Behind the bar, Shanna saw him watching and waved, but she didn’t smile, and Cal wondered what was up as he nodded to her.
Tony put his arm around Cal. “Help me out here, she’s in a group. You go over and pick up her chubby friend in the gray-checked suit, and Roger can hit on the short blonde. I’d give you the short blonde, but you know Roger and midget women.”
Roger jerked to attention at Cal’s elbow. “What? What short blonde?” He peered across the room at the bar. “Oh. Oh.”
“Suit?” Cal looked back at the bar.
“The one in gray.” Tony nodded toward the bar. “Between the redhead and the mini-blonde. She’s hard to see because the redhead sort of dazzles you. I bet you—”
“Oh.” Cal squinted to see the medium-height woman between the redhead and the blonde. She was dressed in a dull, boxy, gray-checked suit, and her round face scowled under brown hair yanked back into a knot on the top of her head. “Nope,” he said and took another drink.
Tony smacked him on the back and made him choke. “Come on, live a little. Don’t tell me you’re still pining for Cynthie.”
“I never pined for Cynthie.” Cal glanced around the crowd. “Keep an eye out for her, will you? She’s in that red thing she wears when she’s trying to get something.”
“She can get it from me,” Tony said.
“Great.” Cal’s voice was fervent. “I’ll even go pick up that suit if you’ll marry Cyn.”
Tony choked on his drink. “Marry?”
“Yes,” Cal said. “She wants to get married. Surprised the hell out of me.” He thought for a moment of Cynthie, a sweetheart with a spine of steel. “I don’t know where she got the idea we were that close.”
“There she is.” Roger was looking over Cal’s shoulder. “She’s coming up the stairs now.”
Cal got up and tried to move past Tony to the door. “Out of my way.”
Tony stayed in his chair. “You can’t leave, I want the redhead.”
“So go get her,” Cal said, trying to get around him.
“Cynthie’s got David with her,” Roger said, and there was great sympathy in his voice.
“Cal!” David’s voice grated over Cal’s shoulder. “Just who we were looking for.” He sounded mad as hell, but when Cal turned, David was smiling.
Trouble, Cal thought and smiled back with equal insincerity. “David. Cynthie. Great to see you.”
“Hello, Cal.” Cynthie smiled up at him, her heart-shaped face lethally lovely. “How’ve you been?”
“Great. Couldn’t be better. You, too, looking great.” Cal looked past her to David, and thought, Take her, please. “You’re a lucky man, David.”
“I am?”
“Dating Cynthie,” Cal said, putting all the encouragement he could into his voice.
Cynthie took David’s arm. “We just ran into each other.” She turned her shoulder to Cal and glowed up at David. “But it is nice seeing him again.” Her eyes slid back to Cal’s face, and he smiled past her ear again, radiating no jealousy at all as hard as he could.
David looked down into her beautiful face and blinked, and Cal felt a sta
b of sympathy for him. Cynthie was enchanting up close. And from far away. From everywhere, really, which was how he’d ended up saying yes to her all the time. Cal glanced at her impeccably tight little body in her impeccably tight little red dress and then took a step back as he jerked his eyes away, reminding himself of how peaceful life was without her. Distance, that was the key. Maybe a cross and some garlic, too.
“Of course,” David was saying. “Maybe we can do dinner later.” He glanced at Cal, looking triumphant.
“Well, don’t let us keep you.” Cal took another step back and bumped into the railing.
Cynthie let go of David’s arm, her glow diminished. “I’ll just freshen up before we go.” Tony and David watched as her perfect rear end swung away from them, while Roger ignored her to peer across the room at the pixie blonde, and Cal took another healthy swallow of his drink and wished he were somewhere else. Anywhere else. Dinner, for example. Maybe he’d stop by Emilio’s and eat in the kitchen. There were no women in Emilio’s kitchen.
“So, David,” Tony was saying. “How’d our seminar work out for you?”
“It was terrific,” David said. “I didn’t think anybody could teach some of those morons that new program, but everybody at the firm is now up to speed. We’ve even . . .”
He went on and Cal nodded, thinking that one of the many reasons he didn’t like David was his tendency to refer to his employees as morons. Still, David paid his bills on time and gave credit where it was due; there were much worse clients. And if he took over Cynthie, Cal was prepared to feel downright warm toward him.
David wound down on whatever it was he’d been saying and looked toward the stairs. “About Cynthie. I thought that you and she—”
“No.” Cal shook his head with enthusiasm. “She left me a couple of months ago.”
“Isn’t it usually the other way around?”
David arched an eyebrow and looked ridiculous. And still women went out with him. Life was a mystery. So were women.
“Aren’t you supposed to be the guy who never strikes out?” David said.
“No,” Cal said.
“He’s losing his edge,” Tony said. “I found an easy pickup for him, and he said no.”
“Which one?” David said.
“The gray-checked suit at the bar.” Tony motioned with his glass, and David looked at the bar and then turned back to Cal, smooth as ever.
“Maybe you are losing it.” David smiled at him. “She shouldn’t be that hard to get. It’s not like she’s a Cynthie.”
“She’s all right,” Cal said, cautiously.
David leaned in. “After all, nobody says no to you, right?”
“What?” Cal said.
“I’m willing to bet you that you can’t get her,” David said. “A hundred bucks says you can’t nail her.”
Cal pulled back. “What?”
David laughed, but there was an edge to his voice when he spoke. “It’s just a bet, Cal. You guys love risk, I’ve seen you bet on damn near everything. This isn’t even that big a bet. We should make it two hundred.”
That was when Cal had contemplated giving David a healthy push. Tony turned his back to David and mouthed, Humor him, and Cal sighed. There must be something he could ask for that would make David back down. “That baseball in your office,” he said. “The one in the case.”
“My Pete Rose baseball?” David’s voice went up an octave.
“Yeah, that one. That’s my price.” Cal slugged back the rest of his scotch and looked around for a waitress.
David shook his head. “Not a chance. My dad caught that pop-up for me in seventy-five. But I like your style, upping the stakes like that.” He leaned in closer. “Tell you what. The last refresher seminar you ran for us set me back ten grand. I’ll bet you ten thousand in cash against a free seminar—”
Cal forced a smile. “David, I was kidding—”
“But for ten thou, you have to get her into bed. I’ll play fair. I’ll give you a month to get her out of that gray-checked suit.”
“Piece of cake,” Tony said.
Cal glared at Tony. “David, this isn’t my kind of bet.”
“It’s my kind,” David said, drawing his brows together, and Cal thought, Hell, he’s going to push this, and we need his business.
Okay, clearly booze had shut down David’s brain. But once it was back up and working again, David would back down on the ten thousand, that was insane, and David was never insane about money. So all he had to do was stall until David sobered up and then pretend the whole thing never happened. He stole a glance across the room to the bar and was delighted to see that the gray suit had disappeared sometime during their conversation.
Cal turned back to David and said, “Well, I would, David, but she’s gone.” And God bless you, gray suit, for leaving, he thought and picked up his drink again.
Things were finally going his way.
Min had walked across the room, telling herself that it was a real toss-up as to which would be worse, trying to talk to this guy or enduring Di’s wedding unescorted. When she neared the landing, she edged her way under the rail, catching faint snatches of conversations as she went, not stopping until she heard David’s voice faintly above her, saying, “But for ten, though, you have to get her into bed.”
What? Min thought. It was noisy up there by the door, maybe she hadn’t heard him—
“I’ll play fair,” David went on. “I’ll give you a month to get her out of that gray-checked suit.”
Min looked down at her gray-checked suit.
“Piece of cake,” somebody said to David, and Min thought, Son of a bitch, the world is full of sex-crazed bastards, and forced herself to move on before she climbed the railing and killed them both.
She headed back to Liza and Bonnie, fuming. She knew exactly what David was up to. He assumed she wouldn’t sleep with anybody because she’d turned him down. She’d warned him about that, about the rash assumptions he made, but instead of taking her advice, he’d kept asking her out.
Because he thought I was a sure thing, she realized. Because he’d looked at her and thought, Overweight smart woman who’ll never cheat on me and will be grateful I sleep with her. “Bastard,” she said out loud. She should have sex with Calvin Morrisey just to pay David back. But then she’d have no way of getting even with Calvin Morrisey. God, she was dumb. Fat and dumb, there was a winning combo.
“What’s wrong?” Liza said when she was back at the bar. “Did you ask him?”
“No. As soon as you finish your drinks, I’m ready to go.” Min turned back to the balcony and caught sight of them, just as they caught sight of her.
David’s face was smug, but Calvin Morrisey clutched his drink and looked like he’d just seen Death.
“There she is,” David crowed. “I told you she’d be back. Go get her, champ.”
“Uh, David,” Cal began, consigning the gray-checked suit to the lowest circle of hell.
“A bet’s a bet.”
Cal put his empty glass down on the rail and thought fast. The suit did not look happy, so the odds weren’t impossible that she’d go for a chance to get out of the bar if he offered dinner. “Look, David, sex is not in the cards. I’m cheap, but I’m not slimy. You want to bet ten bucks on a pickup, fine, but that’s it. Nothing with a future.”
David shook his head. “Oh, no, I’ll bet on the pickup, too, ten bucks if you leave with her. But the ten thousand is still on. If you lose . . .” He smiled at Cal, drawing out the “lose,” “you do a seminar for me for free.”
“David, I can’t make that bet,” Cal said, trying another tack. “I have two partners who—”
“I’m good for it,” Tony said. “Cal never misses.”
Cal glared at him. “Well, Roger isn’t good for it.”
“Hey, Roger, you in?” Tony said, and Roger said, “Sure,” without looking away from the blonde at the bar.
“Roger,” Cal said.
“She’s the pr
ettiest little thing I’ve ever seen,” Roger said.
“Roger, you just bet that I could get a woman into bed,” Cal said with great patience. “Now tell David you don’t want to bet a ten-thousand-dollar refresher seminar on sex.”
“What?” Roger said, finally looking away from the blonde.
“I said—” Cal began.
“Why would you bet on something like that?” Roger said.
“That’s not the question,” Tony said. “The question is, can he do it?”
“Sure,” Roger said. “But—”
“Then we have a bet,” David said.
“No, we do not,” Cal said.
“You don’t think you can do it,” David said. “You’re losing it.”
“This is not about me,” Cal said, and then Cynthie slid back into the group and put her hand on his arm. She leaned into him, and he felt his blood heat right on cue.
“She’s over there waiting for you,” David said, an edge in his voice.
“She?” Cynthie’s glow dimmed. “Are you seeing somebody?”
Oh, hell, Cal thought.
“Cal?” David said.
“Cal?” Cynthie said.
“I love this,” Tony said.
“What?” Roger said.
Cal sighed. It was the suit or Cynthie, the rock or the soft place who wanted to get married. He detached her hand from his arm. “Yes, I’m seeing somebody. Excuse me.”
He pushed past Cynthie and David and headed for the bar, wishing them both the worst fate he could think of, that they’d end up together.
Min watched Calvin Morrisey move toward the stairs. The beast. He thought that he could get her in a month, that she was so pathetic she’d just—
Her brain caught up with her train of thought, and she straightened.
“Will you tell us what’s wrong?” Liza said.
“A month,” Min said.
He walked down the steps and made his way through the crowd, ignoring the come-hither looks of the women he passed.
He was coming to pick her up.
Suppose she let him.
Bet Me Page 2