Stacking the Deck (A Betting on Romance Novel Book 2)(17)

Twelve years earlier…

“BAILEY, COME ON! I need your help! Blue, green or pink?”

“Black.”

Beth made a sound of disgust as she lowered the headbands she’d been holding up. “Would you stop sulking? I’ve got ten minutes before I’ve got to be at Jenny’s. You were invited, too, you know.”

Bailey rolled her eyes which looked kind of freaky behind the heavy layers of goth make-up she had taken to wearing ever since she found out Jim Croce was dead and not just retired. Like Tinker Bell gone to the Dark Side. “Can’t. I’m getting my nose pierced.”

“You’re not! Are you, really?”

Bailey flumped to her back on Beth’s bed, her black combat boots dangling off the side. “No. I’ve got to work. Turns out when you’re the lowest man on the totem pole you don’t get time off for parties. Not that I’d go even if I could.”

“Well, I’m going.” Beth put the green headband in her hair then switched it for the blue. “You know who’s going to be there.”

“Everyone who’s anybody, yes, I’ve heard.” Bailey inspected the fake rose tattoo she’d drawn on her forearm with a Sharpie. “You do know why you were invited.”

“I don’t care.”

“—because your tutoring kept Chip Otterman from failing Algebra and getting kicked off the varsity basketball team. Jenny would have been devastated if she couldn’t do her goofy ‘Chip, Chip, Hooray!’ cheer for him anymore. God, what a bunch of dorks.”

Beth pulled the blue headband out and sucked in a nervous breath.

“Wish me luck?”




TWENTY MINUTES LATER—because her brother, John, was taking his own sweet time—Beth was finally on her way. She sank down in the seat of John’s beat-up Chevette and gripped her little purse in her lap, having decided against stuffing her lip gloss, compact, folding comb/brush combo and Juicy Fruit gum in the pockets of her jacket in case they gave her unsightly bulges. “Just drop me off at the corner. I’ll walk,” she said a little breathlessly.

“Beth, it’s raining.” John stopped at a 4-way intersection and turned to look at her. They were only a couple blocks from Jenny Whitmeyer’s house. How wet would she get?

Water sheeted across the windshield.

“It’s okay,” Beth said, trying to adjust the padding in her bra without her brother noticing. “I don’t want you to waste gas.”

He gave her another look and turned the corner before Beth could make a grab for the door handle.

Before long they were pulling up to the Whitmeyers’ big colonial. A handful of cars were parked in the driveway and street, groups of teens loitering under the eaves of the garage and on the front porch. Beth’s heart skipped a beat as she surreptitiously cupped her hand over her mouth to check her breath. She could smell nothing but mint, though, having brushed her teeth like an OCD dentist twenty times before leaving the house.

John’s door creaked. Beth rounded on him in horror. “You’re not getting out, are you?”

“I left a case of soda in the trunk.”

“Can’t you get it later?” she hissed. There were people huddling under umbrellas not far from the car. Important people.

“I thought I’d share,” he said, pulling his hoodie over his head and ducking out of the car.

Beth creaked her door ajar and popped open her umbrella. Lovely. John had parked her smack dab over a river. If she leveraged herself, though, she could maybe make it to the curb without stepping in it up to her ankles. Her velvet flats would be toast if she got them wet.

She scootched to the edge of her seat, rain zotting dark dots on her shoe as she reached awkwardly to the curb with her foot. She pushed against the door and lurched onto the wet grass in front of Jenny’s house. There. She pushed the door hard and it slammed with a clunk behind her. Beth looked around to see if anyone had noticed her ungraceful arrival.

John was at the back of his car, his head ducked under the open lid of the trunk with a couple of the senior guys standing around. Wow. They must really like soda.

Beth licked her lips and sucked in her stomach, her bra feeling unusually tight for all the nylons she’d stuffed in there. She’d chosen nylons, because they were flesh-toned. Just in case.

In case of what, she had no idea.

She forced a nervous smile as she saw Valerie Stinson start over. Valerie and a couple other popular girls were huddled under a large golf umbrella and they giggled and twittered as they moved as one toward some of the guys standing around John. Beth wished he would leave already; although, having him there made her feel less alone.

“There’s chips and dip in the house,” Valerie called to her. The other girls giggled. Beth pretended to laugh with them even though she had no idea what was funny.

“Thanks,” she said.

They giggled some more.

Valerie brushed her blonde hair behind her ear, effectively showing off the white tan line where her watch should have been. Beth had never actually seen Val wearing a watch, but the little white circle and band line were like a permanent tattoo on the girl’s wrist. “Not a problem,” she said.

But, Valerie wasn’t looking at Beth anymore. She was turning to make a circuit by the boys on the way back into the house. “Hi, John,” she said as she passed by. The girls twittered.