Against The Odds (Anna Dawson #1) Read Online Free Page B

gambling, reliving gambling experiences, or thinking of ways to get money to gamble.” She gave a dramatic pause, pointedly looking at me.
    “Tabby,” I said. “How often do you think about dancing?”
    She looked at me. God, she couldn’t have been more than twenty-two. “Dancing’s all I think about,” she said with such sincerity it nearly broke my heart.
    I looked back at Lorelei, raised my brows, in a “whadda say to that!” way.   It’s a look I’d perfected at the poker tables.
    She ignored me, returned to her papers. “Number two. Needs to gamble with a larger pot of money in order to achieve the desired level of excitement.”
    I thought about a couple of weeks ago. Betting five thousand on the Giants. As I’d walked away from the betting window I had this fear, this dread, that it wasn’t enough, and had gone back to the window to double it.
    “Kenny,” I said, waiting to see which dancer would look at me. Ah, the blond. So the brunette was Mark. “What was your first job as a dancer?”
    He smiled a warm grin. “At Miss Porter’s school of dance. I helped her teach ballroom dancing to couples about to get married.”
    “And do you like dancing on the Las Vegas Strip, in one of its biggest shows, better?”
    “Hell yes.”
    “You’d say it has raised the level of excitement? The bigger the show?”
    “Right,” he said quietly, looking toward Lorelei, contrite, probably wondering if she’d take away the food.
    “Come on Jo,” Lorelei scolded. “This is serious. I’m trying to help you.”
    “I know you think you are Lorelei. But replace the top of your list with the word professional instead of compulsive. It’s my job. And I’m damn good at it. My gambling bought this house. The house that you live in rent-free, by the way.”
    “Do you want me to start paying rent?” she asked. “Because I—”
    “No,” I cut her off. “That wasn’t our agreement.” She started to come back with something but I held up my hand. I was on a roll. “Look in the driveway. My car? Gambling. Your car? Gambling. All the stuff you wanted for the gourmet kitchen? Gambling. My life— your life —is a very comfortable life thanks to gambling.”
    “Yes. Gambling has brought you a lot. But it also has you disappearing every few months, doing God knows what for people right out of a Scorsese movie. You can’t say that’s comfortable.”
    “Ben, help me out here,” I pleaded.
    “Hannah, maybe we should just let Lorelei finish. Go ahead, dear.”
    She looked at me. For permission? Yeah, right. I waved for her to continue.  
    Lorelei’s lived with Ben and me for six years. Before her, Ben was able to run the household. But not so much lately, and I didn’t want that kind of pressure on him.  
    I owned the house (though it was in Ben’s name), had a car for Lorelei (also in Ben’s name, as was my own) bought all the food and paid all the utilities. Or, I should say supplied all the money for those things.
    That’s where Lorelei came in. Whenever I won, I handed the money over to her. She paid all the bills with it, did all the grocery shopping, did most of the cooking when she wasn’t working, and was my back-up for taking Ben places.
    She also bought nice things for the house from my winnings. We had the latest electronic equipment, a huge in-home theater, an incredible state-of-the-art kitchen set-up. The works. It was her job to make sure the cash was spent. And that there was enough left—and I didn’t want to know where—for the bills to be paid for at least two years.
    That was my safety net. Two years. If I went more than that without being on the plus side then…well, I didn’t know what, it hadn’t happened yet.
    There was never to be large sums of cash at the ready. It was all to be invested in things that weren’t quickly—or at least easily—sold.
    Responsibility and honesty were the only things I asked from her, and she had those in spades.
    It was a good arrangement