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“Now you’re ready to steal our bets.” He winked.
“Darts is a game of chance. You all have the same luck at winning as I do.”
“Our odds are as good as a person wearing a blindfold.”
“You never know. Tonight might be your lucky night.” I clocked out and pushed through the swinging door. True to her promise, Robin had me a mug of beer on the corner of the bar top.
Everyone had a joke to tell as I sashayed around the tables on the way to the back corner where the darts were set up. Two of the guys sitting by the jukebox scurried up to me. At least once a month one of these men tried to beat me.
I didn’t mind. It was good earnings. Sometimes I thought I should let them have a win—just to let them have bragging rights. Then I’d think no. They needed to earn a legit victory.
“I’m winning tonight, Lanie. That’s my gut feeling.” Mark Robinson placed a ten-dollar bill on a table, the ante for each person in the game. He held a rabbit’s foot in the air. “I have this for good luck.”
“Gross. But I’m always hoping someone will beat me. Liven things up a bit.”
“I’ll bet one hundred bucks I can win.”
The three of us turned. Emery Swazay stood, arms crossed, a hint of humor shining in his eyes. And daggone it, he was even better looking in his crisp black shirt, blue jeans, and fancy leather boots than when he wore a suit.
And that belt buckle. Could it hang any lower?
Still. His attire likely cost more than my month’s salary. Totally out of place in a bar with men casually dressed in T-shirts. Maybe that was the reason he stood out.
Good-looking or not. There were rules to a bar game that even Mr. New York City had to follow.
“I’ll take you up on that bet. Except you’ll have to wait your turn. These two gentlemen were here before you.”
Mark and his friend, Terry, shook Emery’s hand and slapped his shoulder.
“It’s great to see you back in town, man. What’s it been? A year?” Mark asked.
“Less than that.”
Mark grabbed Emery’s hand again. “Your donation to the animal shelter last month helped save a gaggle of animals.”
“Call when you need more.”
Okay, so yeah, money could be used in beneficial ways—or to the detriment of others.
Mark picked up his bet and tucked it in his shirt pocket. “Emery, take my turn. I should get home to my wife. Besides, I never win against Lanie. Might as well flush my money down the toilet.”
Emery fist bumped Mark’s knuckles. “Thanks for the spot.”
“Hey, shouldn’t I be deciding who I want to play?” What was it with Emery Swazay, thinking he could control the situation and walk all over everyone?
Terry also scooped up his bet. “Instead of playing against you, I stand a better chance making bets on who’s gonna win.”
He rushed back to his table and adamantly talked to his buddies while pointing at us. By the time I gave Emery his three red darts, Terry had a fistful of money.
“Good thing you put down a hundred bucks seeing as how I lost out on a ton of bets.” I nodded at the dart board. “Go ahead. Throw.”
“You have to win to break even.” He threw a dart which pinged the center circle. His family, who now stood around us, cheered.
I reared back and pitched my blue dart. It landed beside Emery’s.
The men from the table cheered. Good. They still had faith in me, even though I wouldn’t get any of their betting action.
Emery pitched again and landed right below the two darts, in the next circle down.
