“Nadia, before I forget to tell you, I found you another gig,” Frankie said.
“I don’t want to hear about any gigs. I will work for you in the chapel, but I won’t do anything else . . . and you can’t make me.”
“The work is super easy. And it’s not embarrassing either. They said they’ll pay you one thousand dollars, and it will only take a couple hours of your time.”
The thousand dollars sparked my interest. “What’s the gig?” I asked while kicking myself.
“A party needs a card dealer for a couple of hours. They said you’ll sit and deal for them; maybe show off a few of your card-tossing tricks.”
That seemed too easy of a gig for one thousand dollars. If life was geared to include a soundtrack, I’m sure mine would play the few notes just before Jaws attacks. There was a missing element. Since rent was almost due, I decided to go ahead with the gig and hope for the best.
“When’s the gig?”
“It’s tomorrow night. I’ll give you the information later.”
“Do I need a uniform or costume?”
“They said you didn’t need one.”
I was about to quiz him for more information when the chapel door opened and Lenny walked in with his newest batch of couples.
Lenny is the driver of the All Celebrities Chapel wedding bus. It’s a retired school bus painted white with gold trim. Caricatures similar to those that marred the chapel building were painted on the side of the bus. Neon lights pulsed in the interior, and cheap “champagne” flowed freely. The bus reminded me of its driver . . . annoying and in bad taste.
Lenny’s job was simple: Drive couples who didn’t have their marriage license to the Clark County Marriage Bureau. The bureau’s quick service and late hours allowed the chapel to keep couples marching down the aisle until the wee hours.
Frankie pays Lenny on commission. So, when Lenny leaves the chapel with one couple, he somehow returns with more. As long as they have their marriage license, Frankie doesn’t question where Lenny “finds” these extra couples.
“I’ve got a haul tonight!” Lenny announced as he herded swaying couples into the chapel.
I hurried over to show them to the waiting-room seats before anyone fell. As I helped the couples, I was left with one woman without a mate.
“Lenny, where’s her groom?”
Lenny scratched his thick belly and twitched his mustache. “I’ll go back and find one.”
“Did you pick her up from the street?” I glared at him.
“She probably trailed in with the other couples.”
“Take her back to where you found her!”
The front door burst open. A frail, thin man who was ghost-white stood in the door frame. He initiated a step forward but fainted and took a nose dive. He was sprawled out on the floor face first. A Neanderthal woman, who appeared as though she could be a contender for the next weight-lifting championship, squeezed past the doorway and stepped over the man. If she was on a football team, she wouldn’t be known as the “refrigerator,” she’d be known as the “walk-in cooler.”
“He and I are getting hitched tonight,” she said, pointing to the little ghost of a man lying on the floor. “How long will this take?”
Lenny stepped quietly out of the way. Frankie scurried behind and pushed me forward. “Nadia will help you.” He turned and bolted for cover.
My eyes widened. “I . . . uh . . . um . . .”
“Spit it out, girl! I’m under a deadline.”
“It doesn’t take long, but he’s passed out.”
“Listen, we’re getting hitched tonight and that’s final.”
“Uh, okay. Can you wake him up?” I asked.
I was hoping the man didn’t wake up and get forced into marriage. He was obviously petrified of the woman. I was too. Her hooded eyes and menacing scowl were enough to make the toughest man back down, let alone her monumental stature that seemed to be padded with armor. Her dark hair was wild with corkscrew curls brushed out to a frizz.
How much would it hurt—and how expensive would my hospital bills be—if I told her I wouldn’t help her? Maybe I could get them both drunk. Drunk couples were easier to marry, and they never complained. Sure, there were a few disturbing cleanups I had to gag my way through, but all in all, I liked the drunks.
“Don’t you got any of them smelling salts you see in the movies?”
“You mean the movies from the 1920s? No, I’m sorry. Are you sure you want to get married?” I asked. I flinched, ready to take my beating.
“Why is your face all twitchy? No, I don’t want to marry the guy. My grandfather’s will states I have to be married by the end of today or I won’t get my inheritance.”
Frankie popped up next to me when he heard the word “inheritance.” “So, my large and feisty dear,” he purred, “how can I help you? Tell me about your inheritance and how long you need to stay married.”
I eyed Frankie. His money wheels were spinning at a blinding speed.
“I just need the papers proving I got hitched. Once I do that, I get my inheritance.”
“Perhaps we can work out an arrangement. Since your white knight is passed out on my floor, I could fill in for him for a percentage of the inheritance. How much are we talking?”
If I listened hard enough, I was sure I could hear the calculator keys clicking in his head.
“I’ll inherit two hundred grand if I’m married by tonight.”
Cha-ching! There was the deafening sound of the slot machine hitting its payday in Frankie’s head.
I rolled my eyes and moved over to the desk to begin the paperwork, allowing them to negotiate. There was going to be a marriage. I just didn’t know which couple.
As I filled out the papers, I detected a movement from the small man. He blinked open his eyes and cautiously twisted his head to scope out his surroundings. I could see he was itching to make a break for it, and I wasn’t going to stop him. His eyes widened as he caught me staring at him. I shrugged and pointed to the door. He scampered to the door and ran for his freedom. The woman saw him and barreled after him.
“Damn coward!” the woman hollered from the door. She turned back to Frankie. “Looks like you’re up at the plate.”
“I get fifty percent, right?” Frankie asked.
“You get twenty percent, like we agreed. I’ll stay here until my inheritance check clears. Then we’ll get the marriage annulled.”
“My big-boned beauty, allow me to escort you to the wedding bus. We can obtain the license now if we hurry.”
“Frankie,” I yanked him to the side, “have you lost your mind? Have you forgotten you don’t like women?”
“I like women just fine. I just don’t like them in my bed. But she’s not a woman—more like an Amazon jungle warrior on steroids. And this is a fake marriage, so she won’t be in my bed. She’s my ticket to a yacht.”
“A yacht?”
“Yeah, I’ve always wanted one. I even have a sailor suit and hat hanging in my closet. I love a man in uniform, especially if that man is me.” He smiled wistfully as though imagining himself in his sailor suit.
“Hey, the clock is ticking. I need to get hitched,” the woman said.
“Frankie, if you leave, who will marry all these couples?”
Vivian popped out of her seat. “I can marry them.” She hobbled to the altar as fast as her bum hip would allow. Her love beads rattled as she hurried up the aisle. “I obtained my certificate months ago. I was hoping I could hop in on the fun at some point. The understudy is going to be the star tonight!” She clapped her hands.
“You sly girl!” Frankie grinned. “I might just add you to the payroll so I can take a night off. A guy’s gotta strut his stuff out on the town every now and again.”
“There’ll be no strutting while I’m around,” the woman said. “Now let’s get going.”
“Vivian, work your magic,” Frankie said. “We’ll be back before you know it.”
I watc
hed as they departed. “Lenny, don’t forget the girl you abducted.”
He grumbled and grabbed the woman’s arm, leading her to the bus.
As soon as they were gone, I helped the first couple with paperwork and steered them to the aisle. I watched Vivian for a moment before I turned to help the next couple. Her voice wavered once, but she got the gist and was getting into character by adding hippie words into the ceremony. By the time she said to the third couple, “Does this groovy groom take this cosmic chick to be his lawfully wedded and wavy-gravy wife?”, Frankie and his burly bride returned with their marriage license, followed by Lenny and a mate for the girl.
“Where’s the girl?” I asked Lenny.
He spun around and looked out the door. With a disgruntled grunt he yanked the man back outside. “I’ll drop you off.”
The groovy groom and wavy-gravy wife kissed as man and wife. I hurried over and snapped the souvenir picture and turned on the bubble machine as they walked back down the aisle.
Frankie’s burly bride seized his arm and dragged him down the aisle before I could start the music.
I sat back and watched. This was all happening way too fast . . . for a yacht in Las Vegas. I didn’t even think he could buy a yacht for his percentage. He might have money stored away in a yacht fund. Knowing Frankie, he had many funds squirreled away for all of his schemes.
I listened as Vivian went through her routine with Frankie breaking in his kudos every now and again. They repeated the vows and said their “I dos.”
“Can we skip the kissing part?” the burly bride asked.
“Not while I’m the officiant,” Vivian stated. “That’s the best part of the ceremony. Frankie, you may kiss the bride.”
The Amazon glowered down at him with her fists mitted.
“No sweat, my colossal cream puff,” he said, corralling her fist. He muscled it to his lips for a kiss. She wasn’t cooperative and freed herself from his grasp. “Well, I didn’t want to anyway.” He gave his fingertips a kiss and slapped it to her upper arm. “There. The kiss is complete.”
I turned on the song Can’t Buy Me Love as Vivian pronounced them husband and wife. I flipped the bubble machine on and snapped a picture. The frame wasn’t big enough to fit everyone in, so I improvised and captured most of Frankie, all of Vivian, and from the nose down and through the center of the bride.
“Enough with the festivities,” the Amazon said. “Where do I sleep?”
“You’ll be sleeping in Nadia’s apartment,” Frankie said.
“Excuse me a moment,” I said to the Amazon, yanking Frankie aside. “No way! She’s your wife. You have to sleep with her.”
“This is all for show. She won’t be staying long, and I don’t like women messing up my bed.”
“I don’t like women messing up my bed either!”
Frankie cracked a smile. “Care to tell me about some of the women that have messed up your bed?”
“You know what I mean! You can’t just shove her on me. It’s your marriage and your profit, so you can deal with her.”
“I’ll give you a break on rent.”
“No. I don’t want anything to do with this. I have a double bed, and she’ll take up the whole thing. Not to mention, she scares me. If she behaved like a human instead of a gorilla, I might be more inclined.”
“It’ll only be for a few days. I’ll give you half off your rent.”
I considered it. “She can stay for two days, and I want the whole month off on rent.”
“I’m not sure.”
“I’ll also take pictures of you on your yacht while you’re wearing your sailor suit.”
A grin spread from ear to ear. “Deal!”
“Finish with the remaining couples while I help your wife.” I shook my head. This was going to suck. However, only two days with the gorilla woman and no rent would balance it out. “Come with me,” I said to her. “What’s your name?”
“Just call me Muffin.”
“Muffin?”
“Yeah, it’s my nickname. Gotta problem with that?”
“Not at all. Right this way, Muffin.”
I led her upstairs to my apartment and opened the door.
“This is it?” she asked as she plodded around.
“Yes, this is my apartment.”
“It’s tiny, and your furniture is old.”
“Perhaps when you cash your inheritance check, you can throw a few thousand my way to make my apartment more modern.”
“What’s this furry thing on the couch?”
“That’s Gus the cat.”
“He’s a cat? He looks more like a fuzzy bowling ball.”
Gus cocked his head to the side, attempting to deduce what he was looking at. It took too much energy, so he drifted back to sleep.
I was already tired of Muffin, and it had only been two minutes. “Let me find you a spare key.”
I stepped to the kitchen table and reached for my purse. It wasn’t there. I had slung it on the back of the kitchen chair earlier this evening when I returned from the casino, but it was now resting on the table. I stood there a moment. I was positive I had hung it on the chair as I ran through the apartment to change for work. Perhaps it landed on the table. Then again, I didn’t have to use my key to open the door. It was unlocked.
Odd.
I surveyed the kitchen and living room. Everything was in order, but someone had been here. Objects were moved just enough to reveal dust rings, and the couch cushions were a little skewed.
I tiptoed to the window to peer down at the street. The Frenchman was no longer in sight. Could he have broken into my apartment?
“You got anything to eat?” Muffin asked.
I stepped back from the window. “No. I’ve been out of town and just returned last night.”
“I’ll make you a list. You can go to the store in the morning.”
“Why can’t you go to the store?”
“I have to keep a low profile with this inheritance thing. Until I get my check, I’m staying here and making sure no one comes snooping.”
“Fine, I’ll go in the morning. But you’re paying me back.”
“Where do I sleep?”
I wanted to tell her the couch, but she wouldn’t fit and Gus would be flattened. “The bedroom is over there. Bedroom is on the left, bathroom is on the right.”
She inspected the bedroom. “It’s a little room and a little bed. What are you, baby bear? Everything is tiny.”
“Frankie’s apartment is larger,” I said, hoping she might want to swap apartments.
“I’ve had a long day getting married. I’m hitting the hay. I’ll need my groceries by the time I wake up.”
“When is that?” My patience was slipping.
“We’ll play it by ear,” she said, whipping the bedroom door closed with a resounding thunk.
Dumb, dumb, dumb! I must be the dumbest woman in the world. I let Frankie con me into helping him again. And now I’m playing host to Muffin, the world’s largest gorilla. I didn’t even have my pajamas. I gathered an oversized towel from the bathroom closet, stripped off my clothes, and wrapped the towel around me.
“Gus, move over. You have to share the couch.”
His only response was a whisker twitch. I nudged him to scoot over, but he was like an anvil. I curled up and fell asleep on the two remaining couch cushions.
Chapter 6
A gusting breath blasted my face and woke me up. It couldn’t be Gus because the breath would smell like hot dogs and kitty nibbles. And he doesn’t breathe with such force. I cracked open my eyes and flinched. Muffin’s surly face was inches from mine.
“I want breakfast!”
“Then go get yourself breakfast,” I said, turning over.
“I’m not leaving here. Here’s the list,” she said, shoving it under my nose. “Go to the grocery store and get my supplies.”
I snatched the paper from her waving hand and reviewed the list. “You’re staying here two day
s max yet there’s a month’s worth of groceries on this list.”
“I’m planning on cooking for my husband.”
I eyed her. “Your fake husband.”
“He’s my real husband until I get my inheritance.”
“If that’s the case, you can move in with your real husband.”
“I’m giving him his space. I’ll get into his apartment eventually.”
I was confused by our conversation. I glanced at the clock that read noon. I scrambled off the couch.
“I have to get to the casino to work, and then I have a gig tonight.”
“You should find yourself a husband and let him go to work.”
“It would be nice not to have to worry about a paycheck, but I don’t think I could sit around and not work.”
“That’s what those hoity-toity trophy wives do.”
“True. But I don’t think they’re happy.”
“They at least have better maids than I do.”
“You have maids?”
“I have one maid,” she said, pointing her finger at me.
“If you think I’m going to be your maid, you’re completely crazy.”
“We’ll see. Right now you need to buy my groceries. In twenty minutes your furry bowling ball is going to be the main course if I don’t eat something soon.”
I hurried and changed. I plucked my purse off the chair . . . how did it move from the table to the chair?
“Did you move my purse?” I asked Muffin.
“No,” she said, squeezing into the living room chair. It groaned in protest. “Your bowling ball is looking mighty tasty.”
I dashed out the door and down to Frankie’s apartment. I banged on the door. The sound of shuffling slippered feet came to the door. He opened the door with a yawn that sucked in most of the air in Vegas. His red silk robe draped around him and his hair was tucked into a net.
“This better be important. I fell asleep only a few hours ago.”
“I have to borrow your car.”
“Nuh-uh. No one borrows Lucille.”
“Your wife is making me buy her groceries. I’m not taking a taxi.”
High Stakes Page 5
