Page 110 of A Dead End Wedding

Emily's lips twitched, so I knew she'd heard it, too. After we finally weaved our way through the room, waving and chatting abit with everyone, we walked out into an only moderately stifling night. It had to be down to at least ninety degrees.

Practically a cold front.

"How do you do that?" I asked.

"Do what?"

"Take all of their money, but leave them still happy and liking you. Trust me, lawyers would pay huge money for that secret," I said, only partly kidding.

She laughed. "It's a matter of dignity."

"Dignity?"

"Yes. I try never to lose mine, and I always leave them theirs. Have you ever watched poker tournaments on TV?"

We stopped at her minivan, since I didn't really want to explain the BMW. Especially since I didn't quite understand it myself, and I'd wimped out on calling Jake for an explanation.

"Well, no offense, but watching poker on TV sounds about as exciting as watching bowling. Or golf."

She laughed. "Yeah, I understand. Although Tiger Woods is a serious hottie. But, anyway, there are always the hot dogs, just like in football or baseball or any other sport. Trash talkers, people who over-celebrate their wins, the guys I call the Balloons."

"I know exactly what you're talking about. Butballoons?"

"Balloon-headed. It's all 'me, me, me' with them, and they make other players feel badly about themselves. I never, ever do that, and so most people like to play with me." She looked around, then whispered. "Even when I beat their pants off."

"What about the Psychic part? I watched Cowboy nonstop and didn't notice anything. He liked to touch the brim of his hat, but he did that whether he had a good hand or a bad hand."

She hesitated. "Okay, but I tell you this under attorney-client privilege, right?"

I put my hand over my heart. "Cross my heart."

"He touches the left side of the brim more when he's bluffing."

My mouth fell open. "That's really subtle. You're good. Will youpleasecome to court with me? Just for jury trials, seriously."

She laughed, and we said goodbye. I pretended to fumble for my keys and waved to her to go ahead, then I walked over to the gorgeous little convertible that was so sweet to drive.

Twirling the remote door unlocker thingy around like a magic wand, I said, "Abracadabra! Open Sesame!" and grinned at the lovely beeping sound that signified a car classy enough to have a remote door unlocker thingy. "Ilovethat sound."

Then something really hard smashed into the back of my head, and I didn't hear anything else for a while.

20

Iopened my eyes slowly, wondering why my air mattress was full of rocks. A giant cowboy hat with blurry outlines did a wobbly dance in front of me, and I let out a little shrieky noise.

"Ah, I told you to get back out of her face, Cowboy. We need to call again and find out when that ambulance is going to get here." Mr. Spicey's worried face leaned into my line of sight.

I blinked twice, and then I remembered. "I'm fine, guys. I'm sure I don't need an ambulance," I said, and sat up. Or, rather, I started to sit up, and then the world went a little foggy, and I felt like I was going to vomit up about a gallon of assorted casserole.

It wasn't a pretty thought.

Cowboy moved in to catch me, and I gratefully leaned back against him.

"What happened? We came out here just a couple of minutes after you and Psychic left, and she was gone and you were here on the ground," he said.

"Did you try to steal her winnings?" Mr. Spicey asked, looking hopeful.

"No!" I said loudly, sending a tidal wave of pain smashing through my skull.

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