Cause and Affection Page 2
Chapter Two
Kara followed her sister through the casino to the elevators. After arriving and checking in, Jo had dragged her out to the Strip to some theme restaurant for lunch. A six-hour flight and fast food had left her feeling even more lethargic and uninterested than normal. Still, she followed her sister to the offices of the catering manager.
Joanne, the youngest of the Wexler children, was their father’s daughter in every way. She held the job of company event manager, was a social butterfly and had been since the first day her daddy brought her to work. It was different for Kara and Dougie. As the oldest, Kara had been tested at every turn. As Doug became an adult, he too started at the bottom, but unlike his sister who excelled, his constant failures were swept under the carpet. Everyone knew the old man wanted Dougie to take his place one day. The board also knew Doug neither wanted the job nor could handle it. They needed Kara, and Doug and Joanne had joined with several others to make that happen. If only Jo could get Kara interested in the board meeting—or anything, for that matter.
In the foyer to the catering offices, they were asked to wait just a few minutes while the catering manager finished his appointment with a VIP guest. The receptionist, a stunning blonde with a badge reading Lucy from Australia, tried to interest them in a beverage while they waited. Joanne was pleased to accept and sit patiently. Kara paced the open space, taking no notice of the stunning young beauty from Down Under.
Joanne surreptitiously watched her sister with her fingers crossed. Kara was in her own world and had been for far too long. Long since tired of trying to connect with her big sis, Joanne quietly drank her coffee. When Dougie and Zack had come to her and Samantha with this plan, she was sure they’d made the whole thing up, but once they looked through the website and had a conference call with the guy from Ultimate Experience, she was in. Her sister needed some nice girl to keep her company. Maybe this actress escort lady wasn’t the kind of girl she would have picked for Kara, but these women knew how to talk to people. Wasn’t that what they did, got these guys or gals talking and having fun? She wasn’t sure that having a girl on Kara’s arm would solve anything but her sister had been alone a long time, and this was much easier than trying to find her a date. God knows that had never worked out.
The moment the door to the catering manager’s office opened, Joanne was on her feet, hooking and dragging Kara by the arm. “I’m Joanne Bryson-Wexler, and this is my sister Kara Wexler.”
The introduction caught everyone off guard including the hotel guest just shaking his hand and saying, “Thank you again for finding a way to fit me in. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it. It does appear I’ve been monopolizing your time,” the guest added with a nod to Joanne and a wink for Kara.
Kara, caught off guard by Joanne’s hasty behavior, stood with mouth agape, staring at the woman before her.
Joanne didn’t seem to notice, launching into a nervous conversation with the catering manager and the other VIP guest. Finally, the guest excused herself, and Kara seemed in a trance as she watched her leave.
“I wish they still had a football team here.”
This was the first thing out of Kara’s mouth? She meets a pretty woman, and all she wants to do is to see a football game? “Football, really?” Joanne challenged her sister. “Back in the day, you would have never let a woman like that out of the room without getting her phone number!”
“What, wait…” Kara asked, still not really in the moment. “Do you know her?”
For a moment Joanne knew she looked like she did know her, then she blanked it out. Back when she was a toddler and got caught stealing Kara’s Legos, she would do the same thing. Kara seemed to suspect something was brewing but Joanne brushed it off, offering a sweet smile. “Of course not. I’m just making a point.”
“I’m here to witness my father take our company back in time and obliterate any chance we have of joining the twenty-first century, not find a date!”
“We have a week,” she whined at her sister, adding feebly, “You might as well have some fun.”
* * *
As the script directed, Madeleine Jessepp returned to her hotel suite after her first encounter with her assignment. Now, stuck in a makeup chair, she listened as the director argued over the phone. When he finally hung up, he turned an expectant eye on her. “It wasn’t perfect, but it wasn’t a strikeout either. Now, let’s see…” He turned his attention to the racks of clothing. “In the next act, you will encounter each other across the poker table. Your costume…” He wandered into the bedroom—now dressing room—carefully combing the wardrobe for her performance. Script, Wardrobe, Performance. Everything they said made this sound like it was a stage act. Then why didn’t my supposed stage girlfriend take an interest in me? “Maybe she prefers dykes or something like that?” she asked the director. “I don’t exactly look like a lesbian.”
He hushed her impatiently, ordering the makeup woman to strip her face. “Just a little eye shadow and a touch of lipstick. I want you to be au naturale!” He carried a pair of well-worn jeans, a bottle green, deep V-neck sweater, and boots. Something that looked suitable for an Australian cattlewoman, not a Vegas showgirl.
Madeleine just sighed, unsure of her situation and the role to come. “Am I supposed to beat her at poker or let her win?”
“Oh my dear, just play it like the script says. Play the table as the hands come, but don’t bet against her. You can bet with her and against everyone else but not her.”
“Don’t you think she’ll figure that out?”
He just giggled as he fussed. “That, my dear, is the point.”
* * *
“Why are you dragging me to the poker tables?” Kara asked with ire.
“Because you love poker and because I will not let you spend this whole week hiding in your room. We have a lot of work to do. A lot of goodwill to repair and we can’t do that if you’re acting like a big grouch-pot! Now go play. I’ll come back and fetch you in time to meet the West Coast reps for dinner.”
The idea of wasting a few hours playing cards didn’t sound so bad. This whole week would be a waste of time as far as she was concerned. Her resignation was already written, signed, and delivered. She had intended to hand it to her father before Vegas. The truth was, she’d had no intention of making this trip at all. It was all Joanne’s doing. She’d convinced Kara to spend the week helping her cover the conference events and talk with the freelancers who fed work up to Wexler-Ogelthorpe, along with a hundred or so account reps. “Come with me. Spend a week playing nice with the regional reps and goofing off on the company dime. It’ll be fun. You’ll get some desperately needed down time, and when we get back, you can still kill our father with your resignation.”
“Oh for God’s sake, Jo. I’m not trying to kill the old man. I’m just trying to prevent him and this damned job from killing me!”
“Look.” Joanne nodded to the pit boss, “A chair just opened. Take it. I’ll come find you, later,” she emphasized, pushing her sister toward the poker tables.
* * *
Madeleine almost panicked when she saw the small line for the poker room. That was a problem. Taking a quick inventory, she could see there weren’t enough people to open another table. She knew poker players were the serious type and rarely gave up their seats, at least not until they went broke. From where she was standing, she could just see the Kara woman at the 20/40 table. Before she could decide what to do, she felt a hand on her elbow. “Ms. Jessepp, how lovely to have you back. I believe your regular seat has just opened up.”
Surprised by the attention, she was momentarily stunned then remembered, this is all scripted. “It’s a pleasure. Tell me, is the table warming?” she asked as the pit boss led her to the same table as Kara. An elderly man had vacated a seat at just the right moment. The other people in line waiting to play poker grumbled but this was Vegas. And everyone dreamed of hitting it big one day and becoming a VIP, so they let it slide.
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br /> “I’m sure things will heat up now that you’re here.” As she took her seat, he gave her the spread, the table limit, and set a tray of ten and twenty dollar chips in front of her, before wishing her luck.
A waitress appeared out of nowhere, wearing one of those skimpy costumes all women servers hate. Madeleine always tipped well and tried to be extra kind to the female servers. During her decade in Sin City, she had waited her share of tables too. She knew just how bad it could be.
“Welcome back, Ms. Jessepp.” She delivered an unordered drink announcing, “One dead bastard with brandy and bourbon. As usual.”
Madeleine thanked her then remembered the script called for her to be gregarious and generous. She didn’t know what a dead bastard was, but it probably deserved a good tip. It was a good thing players at tables drank for free, but she’d have to be careful if she was going to pull this off. She was sure her new employers wouldn’t be pleased if she got drunk during her “performance.” As she reached out to sample her cocktail, she noted a subtle warning look from her server. A good thing too. With her mouth and face all set for some premium booze, the refreshing taste of unadorned ginger ale was a shock. She kept her face neutral, now understanding the warning. They wanted her to look like she was enjoying herself, just not actually have any fun. She plastered a satisfied look on her face and beamed at her tablemates. Most were playing stoic, and trying to pretend they could actually be high rollers. She stifled a laugh, taking another healthy gulp of her fake drink to hide her amusement as she waited for the dealer button to pass. Most of the players, she’d cast as pensioners and near-retirement baby boomers playing make believe. If any were really interested in hauling in a rake, the 20/40 table wasn’t it. She chucked in her twenty for the small blind and watched across the table as the Kara woman knocked out her signal to check. She had to remind herself to stop referring to her as “the Kara woman.” She was also hyperaware she was beginning to see her as a mark. She immediately checked her concern. She wasn’t trying to con this woman. As the director had stated repeatedly, this was an interactive performance. Something the woman had signed up for. Who does that?
* * *
Kara had just lost her second hand and was seriously considering cashing in and looking for a place to hide for the afternoon. But now the woman from the catering manager’s office was joining the table. God, she’s an attractive woman! Tall and lean, with the look of a dancer. What the power suit she was wearing earlier hid, the deep V-neck sweater and the formfitting jeans accentuated. But it wasn’t like the sweater showed off her bosom. The woman was not so endowed, and for a moment Kara caught herself smiling, thinking how perfect she was. She’d always left the big-breasted ladies for her brother to chase. Judging by Dougie’s pick for a wife, he liked them well-endowed and softly curved. Not her. As her brother loved to tell their friends, “Kara always goes for the tall skinny chicks.” And he was right. Back in the day she wouldn’t have wasted a second before charming this woman up or asking her out. Had this lifelong battle with her father taken that much out of her? She had no intention of wasting time on the question. I’m here now, and that woman is smiling at me!
The betting round had finished, and she watched the woman intently, as intently as everyone else watched the dealer lay down the flop. Watching the dealer was a mistake, Kara believed; this was a game of wills. There was a certain amount of luck involved, not to mention math, but that was all secondary. This game needed to be played in the mind, the mind of your opponents. Across the table and sitting beside the woman from the catering manager’s office was someone Kara would categorize as the table bully. Aficionados might call him a classic aggressive poker player, but Kara knew better. If this guy really knew what he was doing, he’d be playing at a no-limit table, not sitting here. Still, he was a pain in the ass, going to the limit on every round, even before the flop. She hated guys like this. They made the game too aggressive for most of the other players who would probably be content to spend half the day losing their money. No one wanted to go bust inside their first half-hour. She was planning on taking him on with this hand, but the new woman followed his bet. Instead of calling, Kara carefully checked her cards, counted her chips for the table to see then shook her head, and folded. She planned to repeat that little fake tell over the course of the afternoon. Experienced players never fell for such subterfuge, but she was sure Mr. Poker would. Right now her number one concern was for the woman in the V-neck. She sat back to watch the action unfold, hoping the new player had caught his number too.
Kara had heard the pit boss call her Ms. Jessepp. Jessepp with an E, not a U. Scandinavian in origin, but changed somehow, modernized? Was that why it was Jessepp, not Jesseppsson or Jesseppsdóttir. Americanized? Yes. Midwest? Definitely Midwest. At least originally… She watched in awe as Ms. Jessepp took a hand from Mr. Poker. He seemed as surprised as the rest of the table. As the dealer dealt out the next hand, she remained focused on Mr. Poker, watching as he checked his cards. Interesting. Judging by his flaccid expression, Kara was sure he had one face card, but that was it. Most players would limp in with a hand like that and wait to see what the flop looked like. She expected the weaker his cards, the more aggressive Mr. Poker would be. Sure enough, when the betting round reached him, he called the blind and raised to the maximum. Sitting left of him and last before the buck, Kara called his raise. She was surprised to see everyone call the bet except the new woman. She smiled at Kara as she folded her hand. Interesting.
Focusing her attention back on the table and the remaining players, Kara watched Mr. Poker as the dealer delivered the turn. There was no reaction from him, and it was all she needed to see. When the betting reached her, she maxed out, again. She sat back to watch Mr. Poker’s reaction and almost fell off her chair to realize that Ms. Jessepp was watching her. She nodded some sort of approval before turning her attention back to the game. As the river card was turned, she let a satisfied look escape before pulling her poker face. Mr. Poker was watching her keenly as were the other two players still in. It was her turn to bet, and she went to the max again. Mr. Poker wavered, and it was all the other two needed to stay in. She had no idea what they were holding, and she didn’t care. Her sole aim was to bust his ass off her table. My table! She laughed at her internal language, watching him struggle to match the bet. Kara could only guess he wasn’t used to having to play the cards he’d been dealt. She was experienced enough to know it wasn’t the cards but what you did with them. It didn’t matter if she was playing poker or fighting for a new account, she always believed her first step in controlling the game was to align herself with another player. Just one. That looked to be settled and by Ms. Jessepp herself. She liked that, and she liked that name. Next order of business, kick the bullies out. Mr. Poker took one more look at his cards then met the bet. She knew he would. At this point, he would see himself as pot committed. Kara turned over her cards. While she didn’t take the pot, she was pleased to see Mr. Poker lose too. He sat back in a grump then began raking the room for the waitress. She could only hope he was ordering a drink to drown his sorrows. If he ordered a meal, well, that would not be a good sign.
The player beside her asked to cash out and took his winnings to the poker room cage. According to poker etiquette, the last player to join the game was entitled to the new seat before it was offered to a new player. Kara was delighted and frightened as all get out when Ms. Jessepp nodded to the pit boss and made her way to the empty seat beside her. The waitress returned at light speed, further irking Mr. Poker by taking first Ms. Jessepp’s drink order then Kara’s before checking on the rest of the table and accepting his.
They were halfway into the next hand when the waitress returned. This time she acknowledged both women. “Here you are Ms. Jessepp, one dirty bastard. And for you, Ms. Wexler, one Labrador Tea.”
Kara grabbed a ten-dollar chip from her stack but hesitated. Ten seemed like too much to tip even if the woman knew her name. Then she watched the woma
n next to her slip the waitress a twenty. Deciding to err on the high side, she grabbed a second ten and handed them to the waitress as she made her way around the table. It was obvious she’d left Mr. Poker for last. He huffed when she slapped down his beer and walked away.
“I have to ask,” the woman, Ms. Jessepp, said, leaning in and saying in a conspiring tone, “I thought a Labrador Tea was made with gin. That thing looks positively like…” She blushed.
Kara raised her glass, inspecting it with her. “I like to call this hue ‘first pee of the mornin’ yellow’.”
That got her laughing, and she offered her hand. “I’m Madeleine, and yes, that does look like a sample you might leave in the doctor’s office. I’m assuming it tastes better than it looks?”
Kara smiled, folding her hand on the flop and sitting back to enjoy the company. “It’s gin. It’s just distilled with flora regional to Labrador. I think it’s the wild rose hips that give it the color. What about you? What’s in a dirty bastard?”
“Hey, don’t I get a name or should I just call you Miss Labrador Tea?” She smiled before turning her attention back to the game. She took note of the turn card, then added two twenty-dollar chips to her bet. She turned her eyes back on Kara who was stuck somewhere between watching the hand play out and listing to this stunning woman speak.
“I…um… Sorry. It’s Kara, Kara Wexler. Pleased to meet you, Madeleine?”
“I know,” she offered in sympathy. “Madeleine is a handful, not to mention very old-fashioned.”
“I don’t know. Madeleine suits you. I think I would’ve been disappointed if your name was Debbie or Sue. You must hate it when people call you Maddie?”
“How… Okay, now it’s your turn to explain.” She raked in her winnings then turned back to Kara while the dealer cleared the table and shuffled the cards.