Jealous Woman Read Free Page A

all over. She was red-haired, and black-eyed, and pretty, and had a Cockney way of talking and kept going on about the “bloody garnishee,” as she called it. I pretty well knew from my talk with Delavan what it was, and that it wasn’t a garnishee, but I kept to myself what I knew.
    Jane stood there, reading the paper, and her face got the beat-up look I’ve mentioned before, and pretty soon she looked up and held out her hand. “I think—I’ll go upstairs, if you don’t mind.”
    “I’ll ring you.”
    “Please do.”
    She and the maid went on up and I went over to my office. I tried to have fun thinking about my cup that was coming. It didn’t give me much. I could see Linda, my secretary, looking at me out of the corner of her eye. I told her I was going over to Carson to close a deal, and wouldn’t be back. Where I did go was out and walk around.
    That night I was still restless, and stepped out a little to get my mind off her and the rest of it. I generally play roulette, but never when I’m feeling good. When I don’t give a hoot I fool around with a stack of quarters. If I lose my stack, I go home. If I get ahead, so I’m gambling on their money, I make scientific mayhem out of it, and feel better. Before I saw her, I had shifted tables, and even joints, three or four times. At roulette, if you’re winning, you pick up a mob that follows your lead, and right there is where I don’t exactly trust Mr. Croupier. He may be honest, as they say he is, and as I firmly believe and tell everybody he is, and yet, I feel you ought not to put irresistible temptation in his way. If the bets are scattered, he has no reason to roll his ball any particular way. But if they’re all aboard one number, or a small flock of numbers, every square on the board except those numbers is a winner for the house, and it would be unfortunate if that was the particular moment in his life he picked out to have a slight change of character. Just to be safe, I move. I even move up the street, to really shake them, and I’d done that a few times before I saw her. She seemed sulky and I thought she meant me. I went over to the bar, ordered a couple of the free drinks, and went over and handed her one.
    “Thanks, Mr. Horner, but don’t let me keep you.”
    “From what, like?”
    “Well, you seem to be avoiding me.”
    I explained about the powder I’d been taking, and she seemed set back on her heels. “I—never even thought about that. You see, I’ve never had a winning streak.”
    “Never too late to learn.”
    “I’ve lost too much.”
    “Let me stake you.”
    I fished up a couple of pounds of what I’d been winning and chinked them around a little. In Reno, of course, they always pay you in silver. “I shouldn’t, you know, Mr. Horner. It’s a weakness of mine. If you keep rattling all that money around, I’m going to say yes, but—it’ll all be gone, I assure you.”
    “I’ll take a chance.”
    She started to play, and it was the craziest playing I ever saw. She just shut her eyes and plunked it down anywhere. “Hey, hey, that’s no way to do it!”
    “What’s the difference? It’s all luck.”
    “Yeah, but it’s got to make sense!”
    An insurance man, he thinks percentage, first, last and all the time, because what he’s running is not charity for the widows, orphans, and aunts, like maybe you thought, but a great big wheel, with every chance figured by the actuaries, so that a bet is distinctly a matter of age, weight and occupation, and he hates to have anything running wild. So I took the young lady in hand and showed her a few things, like how to cut corners on a losing streak by running a small limit and fishing for small fish, like the 2-1 odds on one of the 12s, which some chance of two or three wins that would cause the switch from a losing streak to a winning streak. Once that happened, I showed her how to bunch her bets so as not to be on the hook for too much dough on any single roll, but