Benjamin Hotel Chronicles

The betting began not long after Race started courting her. Clara hadn't planned for it to become an ongoing thing, or even something that happened more than that first time. Yet, it continued to happen; Race couldn't seem to stop asking, "Wanna bet, sweetheaht?" and she couldn't seem to back down from the challenges. It was a fun game between the two, stemmed from their flaws but allowing them to grow together, and Clara quickly grew to love this secret, shared aspect of their relationship. It was their thing alone, no one else was allowed in. She especially got a kick out of their betting as Race began to lose one after another.

The first time happened shortly after Eli's going away party. Eli, nicknamed Trout, was an old friend of Race's, a newsie from Brooklyn that he met before he joined the Manhattan newsies. He was a silent, hulking man with piercing blue eyes and although Clara had only met him once or twice before he traveled out west to visit Spot, she got the impression that he was a lost man who was looking for something. When she brought it up to Race, he had looked at her like she was a modern marvel.

"You got a gambler's keen eye, doll. Trout had a thing with this Park Avenue Princess, back around the time of the strike. She ended up running away and breaking the poor guy's heart. He's been mourning her for six years." He paused, "Found him with Carlos the night of his going away party, maybe he had the ol' skiptrace lookin' for her. Maybe that's why he suddenly decided to leave…" Race trailed off, looking just a bit contemplative.

Clara lifted an eyebrow, stuck on the title, "Park Avenue Princess?" She asked, haughtily.

He smirked, brown eyes warm as he tossed an arm around her shoulders, "Can you believe that? Everybody knows Gramercy Park Girls got way more money. That's why they keep 'em locked up."

Rolling her eyes, she elbowed him in the ribs for the money joke, but she knew he was only trying to lighten up the mood from his friend's heartbreak, "What 'Park Avenue Princess' might this be? I probably knew her at some point."

"Yeah, forgot you rich lot have small circles. Uh, her name was JoAnna...White? Witt-"

"Witten." Clara answered, almost immediately as an image of the girl came to mind. Sweet girl with huge, innocent brown eyes and beautiful, mahogany hair, JoAnna had been a quiet soul, often found reading or day-dreaming. Clara had liked her more than most of the girls in finishing school, but she suspected it was because JoAnna reminded her of her mother-too caught in her head to really pay attention to reality.

The last time she had seen the girl had been mere days before her disappearance, at a dinner party hosted by JoAnna's family. It was a night that was hard to forget considering JoAnna had made a huge scene part way through dinner. She had called Scott a milksop right to his face, and then she had told him not to smirk at her like that, that she was spoken for. The Renwick's were not universally loved in New York due to their unconventionality, but they were grossly wealthy. Sean, Clara's father, had remarked that they were probably only invited that night in the hopes that JoAnna, also a bit of an odd bird among the upper crust, would find a place among them-preferably married to Scott.

At the time, Clara hadn't thought anything of that except that Scott-only sixteen, same age as her but a boy-was hardly old enough to get married. But, JoAnna's outburst had Clara mentally applauding the soft-spoken, yet clearly feisty, girl. She had shouted everything at her mother that Clara had felt at least ten times a day when she was forced to learn piano, history, or a language she wasn't sure she'd ever travel far enough to use.

"Witten, yeah. That girl was somethin' else. Out joked me one time." Race shook his head in mock sadness at his loss, "Trout ain't nevah looked at any girl aftah her."

Sympathy for Trout and JoAnna filled Clara and she stepped into Race's arms as silent gratitude swept through her as she thought how lucky she was to be able to be with the man she wanted, "I hope Eli finds her."

"Don't bet on it." Race remarked, offhandedly, "I find it hard ta believe she'd be easy ta find aftah six years, even foah Carlos."

Indignant, Clara shook her head, "No, I think somehow, someway, they'll end up together. You didn't see her at that dinner party, all fired up. That girl will make her way back to him. I know it."

Race smiled down at her, "Look who sounds like her mothah." He murmured lowly, leaning down to kiss her lips.

A few days later, Race brought up the conversation along with the beginnings of their very first bet, "I was thinking we should make a bet on it, doll. If Trout and JoAnna end up together, you win...ten dollars. If Trout ends up with anothah dame, you gotta pay up."

She turned shrewd, green eyes on him, "What did you find out from Carlos?" She asked, knowing he wouldn't bet on something unless he was confident it was a sure thing. Which meant he had talked to Carlos about Eli.

He inspected his cigar for a moment, not answering her right away to make her wait in suspense. Finally, she crossed her arms and tapped her foot and he smiled at her easily, "Carlos nevah found JoAnna. All leads hit dead ends. She could be in England or down south or timbuktu."

"Deal." Clara held out her hand to shake on it, her gut telling her to make it even if reason thought she was insane.

Race paused in shaking her hand to stare at her, "Didn't ya hear me, Clara? She's gone, poof, disappeared out of thin air!"

"I heard you, Tony. And I'm still taking the bet. Now shake on it, unless you're scared." The taunt successfully got to him, but instead of shaking he pulled her in for a kiss.

That particular bet took awhile to pay off. In the meantime, they found themselves continually making bets up, from everyday things like Blink mentioning a guys night to whether Scott angered another high-class, society lady at a dinner party which Clara was forever winning because she knew her brother.

On the night of their engagement party, two bets took place. The first occurred rather early in the evening. Everyone had been well aware of the tenseness between David and Jack that night, and when Race and Clara had slipped away for a moment of peace, she anxiously asked Race if both their presence here would end in a fight.

"Maybe. Wanna bet on it? Two dollahs says they end up exchangin' fists."

"Deal. Kiss on it?" She could never get enough of the feel of his mouth on hers, and she melted against him as he pulled her close.

She won that one. As much as David and Jack despised each other, they cared for Race and didn't want to spoil his big night. She did catch Race egging Jack on a bit, so the second time they slipped away, she made some ground rules. "If it involved friends, you can't sway their actions with all your talking." She told him firmly. This rule helped her immensely come the next bet later that night as they watched Mush and Vivian slip out of the ballroom for fresh air in the garden.

"Vivian seems sweet. I bet her and Mush will work things out." She told Race as he spun her around on the dance floor, but she realized her mistake just as it slipped out of her mouth.

Race wagged his eyebrows, "Clara, did you just make a bet with me?"

She couldn't help but laugh, "I guess so. Do you think it won't work out, though?" Race had filled her in on Mush's long line of bad luck with ladies and she had never met any of them, but she did like Vivian. The woman was shy and friendly. Clara had caught her staring at Mush a few times in wonder, as if she couldn't believe he was so enamored by her.

"Mush is coming on strong and she's a bit skittish...I'll take that bet. Five bucks and we kiss on it?" Race asked cheekily.

"Tony Higgins, not in front of everyone!" She dodged his lips, attempting to avoid scandal, but Race stopped her in the middle of the ballroom and quickly stole a kiss.

Gasps sounded, followed by a soft applause and a whoop from the direction of Jack Kelly. Clara should have been angry, but she couldn't bring up even a mock scowl on her face. Instead, she beamed up at Race as blood rushed to her cheeks. "You're bad." She murmured as he led her off the dance floor.

He leaned down to whisper in her ear, "Quick, while everyone's gossipin', let's slip away."

"I think the toast is coming up…" Clara murmured, but let him steer her out of the ballroom and towards the closest coat closet. She giggled as he fought a few coats to make room for them and then sighed as he pulled her in and shut the door, his lips immediately finding hers, one of his hands cupping the back of her neck to pull her closer, the other one warm on her hip. She wasn't entirely sure how long they were in there, but they both froze as they heard Blink's voice, muffled by the door but just beyond as he called out to Katherine, Clara's maid.

They didn't hear the exact words exchanged because they were said in low tones, but there was an inflection as though Blink asked a question, a quick reply from Katherine followed shortly by a feminine gasp, and then a resounding slap.

Race pressed his face into Clara's neck as he smothered his laugh. They waited a moment for the coast to be clear before exiting the closet, "How's my hair?" Clara whispered to Race, who reached up to smooth the flyaway hair.

"Ya beautiful." He said, his brown eyes a deep, pool of love and warmth as he gazed at her, "I love ya, Clara." She opened her mouth to reply just as the tinkling of glass could be heard, signaling the toast from her father. He laughed as he grabbed her hand to pull her behind him and into the ballroom. Across the room, she caught a glimpse of Mush and Vivian coming in from the gardens, faces flushed, eyes aglow. She was sure she had that one in the bag.

Trailing along behind them was Blink, the bright, red handprint an alarming contrast to his fair complexion as he gazed across the ballroom where she followed it to Katherine, busy collecting empty glasses. Clara thought ruefully that a bet between her maid and Blink was too obviously a losing one, she didn't even need to bring it up to Race.

She won the two dollars by the end of the night. A few months later, Race received a letter from Eli saying that JoAnna was in Colorado, was staying on the farm Spot worked on with Marta-once a Brooklyn Newsie herself, turned house manager, and now the wife of a rancher named Winslow Fletcher. However, the gambling man refused to concede either bet until both couples were married. When word of Eli and JoAnna's wedding in October reached them, Clara smiled smugly as Race handed over the money he lost.

"Beginner's luck." Which was always the excuse, even though they'd been making bets for close to a year. "I should really stop makin' bets with you. Out of all of them, this was the one I could almost count on!"

She rolled her eyes as she tucked the money away. She had been saving every cent she won in a small, secret lockbox. It wasn't much now, but if they kept their game up, they'd use this money for something great. She knew it in her heart as an image of a tiny baby, bundled up in blankets came to her mind but she didn't dare hope, yet. They still had plenty of time till the wedding, after all. She shouldn't have insisted on the long engagement, but after her first experience, it made sense to her. Even if Race made more sense for her than any man she'd met before.

"Let's make a bet...if JoAnna and Eli accept the invitation, which I doubt, I'll invite Carlos." Race brought up one day while they worked on wedding invitations. It was a nice distraction from the tediousness of it all. Not many men would agree to help their bride-to-be in such matters, and for that, Clara loved him all the more. When she hesitantly asked if he would help, he'd looked at her with indignation, "Of course I'll help, it's my wedding, too!" As if he was shocked she thought he'd begrudge her for asking.

Smiling, she looked up from the one she was writing out and leaned over to kiss his lips to seal the bet before bringing up her own, "Alright, then if anything goes wrong at the wedding, you have to give me a private dance on our wedding night."

Race snorted, "Define, 'anything', sweetheart."

"Anything related to our friends. Jack and David actually end up fighting, Blink and Katherine finally realize their feelings for each other, whatever." His loud guffaw had her looking over at him, "What?"

The Italian man shook his head, shoulders shaking in silent laughter, "Blink and Katherine? Nevah happenin'. That woman turns to ice when she sees Blink comin'. I'll take that bet, sweetheaht. Ya finally gonna lose and if you do, you gotta dance foah me."

"Well, that doesn't sound nearly as much fun as you dancing, but alright. Deal. Kiss?"

Just a few short months after their wedding night, Clara sat at Monday night dinner in the Benjamin Hotel restaurant, laughing as Race complained to all his friends about how she always won their bets. He hadn't believed Skittery would get caught a second week in a row in such a disheveled, devil-may-care state like last week. Clara took all his bets, though, even if she wasn't sure she'd win and lo and behold she had. Her eyes landed on the ballerina sitting beside David as she removed her hand from his arm. As though she'd been stopping him from going after Skittery. She watched as David gave Nina a half smile, if you could call it that, and then continued to keep an eye on the new woman as she gazed around curiously at their little party.

Nina looked, for all pretense and purposes, as though she really couldn't care less to be there. Clara, having been raised among high class snobs her entire life, wondered what possessed the Russian woman to dine with them. Leaning over to Race, she whispered, "I bet Nina never joins us for dinner again."

Race quirked an eyebrow at her, his eyes moving from her green ones across the table to scrutinize the Prima Ballerina. "Deal. Kiss on it?" After a swift, light kiss on the lips, Race pulled back with a smirk, "Ya gonna lose, Higgins."

"We'll see, Higgins." She replied. It was only later, when talking to Vivian on the way to the restroom, that she began to have her doubts about that particular bet. Especially when Vivian pointed out the fact that David was making jokes, which was so unlike the stiff hotelier that Clara actually gasped when Viv told her.

Afterwards, she kept a keener eye on the couple, noting David spoke a little more than usual, his smile coming a little more easily around Nina, and Nina, too, was beginning to warm up. Perhaps, losing this bet might be a good thing if her coming around more melted some of David's frostiness.

A/N: This will be just a collection of random stories from the Benjamin Hotel Series. This is rated M, but anything M-rated (like in the next chapter) will have a line break and a warning for those who don't enjoy reading those scenes! Merry Christmas!

Truly,

Joker is Poker with a J~