Disclaimer: All the characters belong to Janet Evanovich. I am just borrowing.

Spoilers: Possibly all the books but probably none.

Content: Strictly a Language Issue (but not harsh)

This is my first try at fanfic so please be kind.

Thanks to Jaimie (she's got high hopes) and Kate (My Mini Obsession) for their support and editorial powers!

Stephanie's Gamble

Chapter 1

Well, crap……..I wasn't even trying this time and I felt like I have really stepped into it.

I mean I had my eyes wide open looking for something to go wrong and I didn't see it headed my way. Again.

I got up from my desk at work and went to the powder room so I could re-appraise myself.

After going the long way to the elevator, pushing the button to the seventh floor and dragging my feet until I reached the door, I knocked on the door, unlocked it and opened it slowly, I needed to be alone to do this.

I called out, "Is everybody in here decent?"

When no response came, I entered the apartment. What? So it isn't really the powder room, it is the apartment of my boss, Ranger Manoso, but hey, it does have a powder room in it. That counts, right?

I slowly made my way into the room, turned on the lights and closed the door. It was time to talk to the (wo)man in the mirror.

"Stephanie Plum," I told myself, "you are either going to make yourself proud or your mother is going to iron every unattached item in the county in a six month period of time. What made you think you could play poker on New Year's Eve with Ranger and the Merry Men and actually win?"

This year there had been numerous warnings about the weather for New Year's Eve and the company, Rangeman, had no jobs lined up for that night so it was somehow determined that we would stay in like "family" and entertain ourselves. Turns out there was a problem with "like family" and "entertain ourselves". For crying out loud, these guys think that unless shots are fired or someone breaks a limb that the evening has been a waste of time! Me, some Ben and Jerry's and an old movie would have been entertaining enough this year; it had been a long year.

Knowing that the weather wasn't going to cooperate with the broken limb stuff or high speed chases, the guys outvoted me and a poker game was decided upon. It was going to be played for matches or pennies, so I thought. I had a huge jar at home with all of my pennies in it and I had multiple matchbooks from all of the distraction jobs I have done for Ranger so I thought I would be covered.

I had volunteered to help Ella with tidying up the conference room and even making snacks for the game. The fearsome foursome, Lester, Tank, Bobby and Hector, took up a collection and actually paid me, yes paid me, to do something else. Just because they got food poisoning from the potato salad I made for last summer's company picnic was just a coincidence. It was not a lot of money to them, $400, but it would make a big dent in next month's rent, so I didn't whine too much about the fuss they were making.

I looked back into the mirror and said to myself, "Ok, you've made your bets, and lost, now it is time to honor them." Yikes, when was I ever going to grow up? I was going to have to go back downstairs soon, I just wasn't really sure I was going to be able to cope with what I knew would surely be coming next.

The evening had started out amiably enough although it was not a good sign when they moved the location of the game from the conference room to Ranger's living room for "privacy". Ranger claimed he didn't want the guys who were still working to monitor the cameras in the conference room and relay information back to the highest paying player. I knew Ranger knew he had never planned to keep the game downstairs when I saw his place. It had a special table, all the cards, chips and other goodies set up like a casino. Probably I should have taken this as a warning. Oh well.

Ranger, the fearsome foursome and I told bad jokes, drank a little beer and ate too much of Ella's good cooking. Now, I love poker, always have, but poker doesn't love me. I mean I can read the cards and other people's body language; that doesn't mean I can guard or hide mine. All of them, on the other hand, have very practiced blank faces that double as poker faces when a card game is involved. I never even thought I was going to be out of my league.

One of my proudest childhood memories was that I was daddy's little girl. As such, Daddy took me to the Elk's Club and the VFW to watch him play cards with the boys. I wasn't so good at keeping out of trouble just by watching, so my dad taught me to play.

What? So poker and poker face aren't my special skills, I knew it would be no problem as long as it was a match or penny game. What could go wrong, I could lose twenty or thirty dollars in pennies and a couple hundred books of matches, right? Wrong. Lester swiped all of my matchbooks when I got settled, he claimed that since none of the boys or I smoked, they really weren't that valuable. I was OK with that until I heard the smart ass go on about "keeping a promise to Smokey the Bear."

After the second hour was over, half of my pennies were gone and so was some of my self awareness. Hey I am a cheap drunk, two or three good beers and I am done for the night. I guess the happier I become in the course of an evening, the more flirty I become and the less aware I am of my surroundings. I was with people I liked, trusted and respected, I shouldn't have to be aware of my surroundings with them, should I?

It didn't take Hector, Lester, Tank or Ranger very long to not only figure out my tells but to discuss them in depth with each other in Spanish. Bobby and Tank don't speak much Spanish but they have been around these bozos enough to figure out the high points. Besides, one of the terrible trio would need to do something in the kitchen that only Tank or Bobby could help with through the evening, so I figure they each spelled it out for them then. One of these days I am really going to learn how to say more than taco or burro. Wait, I just learned churro the other day, but then again how I am not going to learn about a doughnut like substance?

This was Ranger's game, his place and his rules, if he decided to change the rules we either had to agree or fold for the night. Somebody wanted to raise the stakes to the game; he wanted the game to be "more interesting". I should have gone home right then and there. Yup, packed up my pennies and my pride and taken myself home. I never did listen to that Jimminy Cricket voice in my head that says, "Stephanie, for God's sake girl LEAVE!" Nope, not me, not once, not in my lifetime; I mean I hear the voice all of the time but don't believe it until it is too late.

Ranger and the boys have all known each other forever, they all knew this part of the evening was coming and they didn't bother to warn me. They are troublemakers, every last one of them and I was going to have to live with it.

There was plenty of light banter around the table as the cards were dealt, played and pots won. Lots of inconsequential conversation that was totally out of their regular every day personas.

Bobby told bad jokes from his childhood. He told us that when he was eight he hated to read. In desperation, his mother paid for any book he wanted to read and actually could prove to her that he had read. What did Bobby like - jokes. How did he prove to his mother that he actually read the joke books she bought? He memorized the awful things and then told them for years. I have nothing against third grade humor, sometimes, but from a 32 year old man who doesn't have kids of his own? A puzzlement.

Tank offered very little, he was as always very much the quiet man. It isn't that Tank is boring, but he didn't think the rest of us wanted to discuss art history and how far you need to be from an impressionistic painting to see more than just the dots. I mean it is great that he knows Van Gough had a funky disease that made everything he saw look yellow, but it really wasn't polite poker conversation. I guess it is best that Tank keep some of his inner knowings and knowledge to himself.

Hector wanted to "expand my vocabulary" by teaching me some new words in Spanish, like "besame" (kiss me) or "te sigo amando" (I'm falling in love with you). Those I couldn't repeat worth a darn, I could get out some of the swear words, but now is not the time to extol upon those. Ranger slumped in his chair when he figured out I could tell someone to "go to hell and enjoy the trip" not a proud moment for Ranger, a very proud moment for Hector and for me. Too bad that feeling didn't last for very long.

Other than the vocabulary lessons from Hector, sitting next to him had some definite advantages. He would not let me open my own bottles of beer. He wouldn't even let me drink out of a bottle of beer because, "ladies drink from glasses." He pulled my chair out for me if I needed to get up and when I returned. He always asked if I needed something when he went to get something for himself. Hector's manners were those of a true gentleman. Why is it that the ones with the manners always seem to be gay?

Lester tried out some of his newest pick up lines on me to see if they would work. Variations of many of them the guys had used and struck out with, but they wanted him to try them out on me and see if I was immune too. It went well, I passed judgment, didn't snort any soda or beer out my nose and didn't turn too red. Except once, Lester whispered one to me while playing with my ear and touching my neck; I got flustered, blushed and stammered. I nodded in agreement and then I smiled while I kissed Lester on the cheek. Ranger was less than happy with this development.

"Santos! Leave the table and join me, NOW!" growled Ranger.

Lester turned his cards over and joined Ranger in the next room. They didn't close the door and they didn't keep their voices low.

"Lester, what the hell did you do to her? I can't even get that response from her!" said Ranger.

"Bossman, it is like this, I told her how happy she makes me just being herself, that she lights up the room when she walks into it."

"What did you say to her to get her to kiss you on the cheek?" he asked, not pleased with the compliments aimed at my direction.

"I told her that I was thinking about getting my own hamster and I wanted to clean Rex's cage for a month."

"That's it?" Ranger asked, puzzled.

"That's it boss."

When they returned to the table, we all tried to look like we hadn't heard anything and that everything was normal. Santa must have issued passports to Denial Land to us all this year, since we all pretended nothing happened out of the ordinary. I am hoping Santa is giving frequent flyer miles to Denial Land this year too, I have a feeling I am going to need them. Hmm, maybe I can get a free trip to Bermuda with those frequent flier miles; a worthy possibility for my next daydream. Yep, me and the Merry Men in Bermuda drinking cold stuff with umbrellas … me admiring their lovely forms in their teenie tiny bathing suits.

"Steph! Are you going to play or not, you're up!" Bobby said.

"I'm in, promise, I'm in," I said.

I liked tonight, I was content, I was happy, I was well fed, I was in good company, I was being lulled into a comfort zone of bliss and the inability to be aware of my surroundings.

Anyway, if Bruce Wayne/Batman has more than enough money to live in the mansion with all the toys, technology and Alfred, then Ranger has that much squared (I may not know how much that really is, but I know that it is a lot more than I can even think about). Jeez.

Because of Ranger's income, I knew money wasn't going to mean anything to him in terms of "interesting". Trouble was, I had no idea what Ranger's idea of "more interesting" stakes was. For all I knew, and hoped, it would be butt numbing surveillance at a Miami beach, or a breaking and entering contest for the guys, maybe even an obstacle course. I really hoped it wasn't going to be strip poker, I hadn't dressed in layers and the guys all seemed to be. Yep, that's me queen of the backup plan and princess of reviewing other people's motivations, not.

When did things seriously go wrong for me? I know exactly when. It was when Ranger intoned, "Gentlemen and lady, I have a proposal for you." I should have run right then and there.

My eyes were still open, my ears weren't plugged or covered, my minor beer buzz immediately vanished. I was still awake but I was incapable of comprehending what was going on around me. Everything was fuzzy and in slow motion and none of it made sense.

Ranger had finished his little soliloquy and declared a break. The fearsome foursome had huge grins on their faces, like they had just gotten to throw someone out the window or something. They were laughing, slapping each other on the back and couldn't get a grip on themselves; I, on the other hand, was in a stupor.

The biggest loser wasn't going to get a reward like they do on that TV show. The biggest loser was going to have to make good on everyone else's bets. They were going to be paid back from lowest loss to highest loss, and at regular intervals. There were only a few things that were clear to me at that moment.

1. It wasn't going to cost the loser any money out of his or her own pocket.

2. Everyone had to be able to witness the outcome.

3. It had to be a PG rated act with no nudity or violence towards animals or small children

4. There would be no need to involve the authorities or the newspapers

5. In the event of unforeseen publicity a Mulligan, like in golf, entitling a "do over" could not be claimed and the debt was considered satisfied

Hey, I had over 20 years of card playing experience with my dad's buddies; I had been holding my own so far in tonight's game. I always came out OK with the guys down at the hall and we had been doing it for years, just not as regularly as when I was in junior high.

I think all I really heard was, "blah blah blah no money out of pocket, blah blah blah PG rated" and that's about it. I crossed myself and then promised God that if I walked away with my dignity intact I would be a better person, I would start to listen to the inner voice and I would cut back on pineapple upside-down cake. I guess it wasn't enough.

When Ranger spoke again, it was something about having a specific task or consequence for everyone at the table. Only one of us would be the ultimate winner and only one of us would be the biggest loser. We needed to take time out to think about what we each wanted the other one to do in the event he (or she) was the biggest loser.

Good lord, Ranger was prepared, he even handed out pencils and paper to each of us to write these things down on. He wanted each of us to have our own ideas and not to be influenced by anyone else.

The guys immediately started to write. I asked Ranger if I could use his room so I could get into my thinking position on the bed for five or ten minutes. All the guys groaned and said something about special treatment, but I got what I wanted. I went into his room, took off my sneakers and got on the bed. I was out in 30 seconds. Crap.

I didn't even know I was out until I started to hear a sing song whisper in my ear, "Oh Stephanie, oh Stephanie. Come on Bombshell, it is time to lose to me."

"Go away Bobby, I am just resting my eyes," I moaned.

"Bomber, come on girl, time to move it and lose it. We don't have all night to do this," said Tank.

"Tankie, you can just call Lula for a couple of minutes. She knows you can't see her tonight, maybe she'll give you something to plan on for the New Year until I can get my butt unglued from this bed," I said.

"Querida, it is time to get up. We can only be gentlemen and wait for you for so long," whispered Hector.

"Steph, it is not nice to be tease anyone unless you are a hair dresser at a beauty pageant. Now come on time to go. MOVE IT!" exclaimed Lester.

"Babe, I know how much you like my sheets and I know how much you like to be in my bed," whispered Ranger, "but if you don't get a move on now and get back in the game you default to us all, not that I mind but it takes the fun out of it. Now if you want a better reason to stay in my bed, I can give you one," Ranger promised as a very suspicious smile grew on his face.

With that last comment, I was off the bed like someone had taken one of the confiscated matches to my butt and lit the damned thing. I mean I like the idea of that with Ranger, but not because I either lost at poker or wound up here for the night by default.

"Alright already, jeeze you guys. You would think you had never seen a girl think before. Cripes."

"Babe, do you have your task for each of us, because we won't start without it."

"You weren't kidding, were you Ranger," I asked.

"Babe," Ranger said, "I don't kid about the important things and this is one of the important things."

"Shove over a piece of paper and pencil. No peaking you guys."

I began to scribble, it was just one line on one piece of paper, but I was proud and smug, not a good combination for this group. They all had practice at being both proud and smug; they had things to be proud and smug about. I on the other hand didn't want to remain so well known for my ability to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Years and years ago there was a movie called "East of Eden" that Rosie O'Donnell was in. Anyway, she is an undercover agent for somebody to this island where any of your desires or fantasies could and would be fulfilled. The crux of it was, there was somebody there who really liked Rosie's character and volunteered to do anything for her, fulfill any fantasy she had no matter what it was. A powerful thing to promise any woman, especially one in a smallish leather outfit. At the end of the movie she called him on it, she wanted him to paint her house – that was her fantasy. So that was my task, any Merry Man who was the biggest loser was going to have to paint my parents' house while Grandma Mazur was home! How perfect is this?!

You know how you can tell when things change? Usually my spidey sense goes off and I take note then. This was a more drastic change. The techno music that had been playing in the background changed to some kind of a soft jazzy blues. The lights were dimmed except directly over the table. The food was cleared. Sleeves were rolled up. Smiles were replaced one by one with those damn blank faces. No more joking, no more small talk, no more flirting. It was time to play serious poker.

Wait a minute, back up the freaking truck!

Hadn't we all been playing our best games so far and having a good time? Evidently NOT. I mean, I had been playing my best game. I played the game the only way I knew how. I had no idea you could play this game at many sneaky, snarky levels. I kind of looked at poker like I looked at driving; you pay attention to what you are doing and pray the guy around you is paying attention to what he is doing and if all things are right in God's universe, you get from point A to point B without anyone getting hurt. Hey, it was good enough for my driver's ed teacher so it was good enough for me.

These guys wanted to become the Atlantic City High Rollers or something; this game had become a mission critical thing. Cripes, I saw when the light went on and I wasn't home. These guys didn't drive like me, at all. They were always aware of their surroundings and the drivers around them – probably more than anyone I knew, including the cops. It never occurred to me that they would play poker the same way … morph from being like regular folks, sort of, and then into Gone in 60 Seconds or the Fast and the Furious mode. Oh boy.

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