by Tracy Ellen
“I see. If we’re talking potential here, then it makes sense.” Luke laughed quietly when I elbowed him in his side. “This is about Stella, isn’t it?” Slipping an arm around my waist, he pulled me closer. “You don’t trust Eric George and worry he’ll do something stupid to crush Stella.”
I laid my head on his broad shoulder. “Of course I don’t trust Eric George. I don’t know Eric George. He’s a man child, and so are his friends. It wouldn’t matter if he was forty, though. Jiggle a naked woman in front of a man, add a little booze and peer pressure to the mix, and you tell me what happens when pop goes the weasel?” I lifted my head to whisper in his ear, “The only man I completely trust in every way possible is you.”
Luke was in the process of repeating ‘pop goes the weasel’ in a choked voice when he suddenly put a hand under my chin and turned my face to his. “Wait, what did you say?”
“I’m sorry if you think that’s too cynical, but those guys are under twenty and have barely gotten their dipsticks wet…”
He laughed. “No, not that. The last part.” His voice was low. “You completely trust me?”
I snorted this time. “Only implicitly, my darling, secretive...”
Abruptly, Luke wrapped me into his arms and pulled me across his lap. He kissed me in a way he generally reserved for behind bedroom doors, or against bedroom doors, but never in front of a limo full of gawking people not even pretending they weren’t watching.
“Get a suite,” I heard someone snigger, but was too swept away to care.
When Luke ended our kiss, I sat back against the cushioned leather seat of the limo.
I stared unseeingly ahead and thought, ‘Holy Moly, I have to start telling Luke what I think about him more often.’
‘Yes, and do it in private where he won’t have to stop,’ the sex kitten voice pouted.
‘No shit!’ I agreed faintly, fluffing my hair.
Crookie nervously cleared his throat and filled in the rapt silence because Anna had stopped talking during the kiss to grin broadly at us.
In fact, everybody in the limo was grinning at us.
Cheeks probably as pink as my blouse, I ignored all the rubbernecking voyeurs and tuned into Crookie while I gathered my composure.
My geeky friend informed us the fountains in the eight acre lake in front of the Bellagio had 1,214 jets that shot streams of water 460 feet into the air, which was the equivalent of a twenty-four story building. The fountain went off every half hour during the day from 3:00 until 8:00 PM. After eight, the fountains did their musical dance every fifteen minutes.
After that edifying information, Crookie moved on with a weather report. The weather in Las Vegas was predicted to be clear skies and high fifties, which was a little warmer than average for this time of year in Nevada.
I reached over and patted Crookie’s arm. “Thanks, Crookie.”
“You’re welcome.” He rewarded me his sweet smile in return.
The predicted temps weren’t quite pool weather yet, but some of us had renewed our spray tans yesterday, so we’d look sun-kissed in our wedding finery. I eyed Crookie’s pale skin. On the flip side, some of the men would be vampire white next to us in pictures, but I didn’t see the point in bringing that up to Anna and Stella.
Crookie interrupted my thoughts. “You can expect the sun to rise around 6:52 AM and set at 4:37 PM.”
“Oh. Okay,” I replied blankly.
He smiled again, but spoke to Luke. “Please make sure Bel wears a jacket if she goes outside in the evening because the desert air can be deceiving.”
I stared dazedly at Crookie as Tre smothered her deep laugh with both hands over her mouth.
Luke’s big hand tightened convulsively on my waist, but he solemnly swore he’d see to it I was competently dressed for the weather.
Crookie nodded thankfully in return. Seeing the look on my face, Crookie stated defensively, “You know I only say this for your own good, Bel. Think how you dress to go outside, and your tendency to wander off at night.”
“Wander off?” I repeated in astonishment. “Geez Louise, what am I--some kind of idiot Little Bo Peep or something?’
“Bel,” Crookie replied gently, “am I not the man that gave you a lift in the middle of the night out to Luke’s farm in sub-zero temperatures? You may not recall how scantily dressed you were, but I do.”
“He’s got a point, Sis. You never dress warm enough,” Reg agreed with a snicker, and his friends nodded.
“Oh, no fair, you guys.” I laughed, and then reasonably pointed out to Ash and Henry, “Come on, that was years ago when I was a kid.”
Kenna leaned forward to see Reg down the aisle of the limo. “One night a couple of weeks ago, she was outside with no pants. She only had on a hoodie and shoes. Were you even wearing underwear under the hoodie, Bel? I know her legs were bare. It was freezing cold and windy, too.”
Crookie frowned and shook his head at that news.
John Smith’s hyena laughter caused my lips to tighten in a grimace while I glared at Kenna the Truthsayer. “I’d gotten pissed on, okay? That was the only reason my pants were off.”
Luke picked up my hand. “Do I need to hear this story?”
Henry and Ash had their brows raised, too, with matching encouraging smiles.
“You just did. End of story.”
Their faces fell.
‘Men! Any talk about underwear or bodily functions and they’re all ears,’ I thought, waving them off with a disgusted laugh.
Crookie explained patiently, “Bel, all I am saying is out there,” he swept a long arm out towards the sandy, mountainous vista beyond the speeding limo, “is a new terrain. There are dangers you are not familiar with in the desert.”
I shot the silently laughing Tre J a disbelieving look that I was being so heckled by her boyfriend. “Oh yeah, name one.”
Crookie regarded me with intelligent hazel eyes behind his rimless glasses. “Crotalus cerastes cerastes--the Mojave Desert Sidewinder, Crotalus scutulatus scutulatus--the Mojave Rattlesnake, Crotalus mitchellii Pyrrhus--the Southwestern Speckled Rattlesnake, and last,” he chuckled without humor, “but certainly not least, Crotalus atrox--the Western Diamondback Rattlesnake.”
“Did you learn your Latin from the same school as Jazy? You made those names up,” I teased accusingly.
Jazy protested, “Hey, at least I don’t repeat myself when I make up my Latin. What was that second snake, Crookie? Scrotumless succubus succubus?”
Crookie opened his mouth to correct her, but I forestalled him by throwing my hands up to stop this ridiculous conversation. “Fine. I won’t go wandering off in the desert without a jacket on and tangle with any dangerous snakes. Are you satisfied, Crookie?”
“Yes, I am.” Crookie folded his hands on the case of his laptop and nodded. “Thank you, Bel for being sensible.”
When the limo glided to a stop under the portico at the main entrance of the Bellagio, I was the first one out the door, Anna close on my heels. She called back into the limo that we’d meet them at the Chairman’s Lounge for check-in. She desperately needed a bathroom, and I desperately needed to escape the limo.
Chapter XIII
“Possum Kingdom” by The Toadies
Sunday, 12/30
4:05 PM
After hours of poring over Bellagio floor plans, Anna knew precisely where we were going.
I followed Anna’s mad dash through the Bellagio’s cavernous main lobby. Running across beautiful marble floors, we skirted enormous Christmas trees twined with wide bands of gold ribbon and millions of lights. I darted with Anna around towering vases of stunning floral arrangements at least fifteen feet tall.
Everywhere people were coming and going, speaking languages from the four corners of the globe. It was sensory overload, especially after a few drinks on the plane ride. Keeping the trotting Anna in sight, I hardly registered the famous sculpture of hand blown glass flowers in every color of the rainbow soaring overhead.
We made it across the main lobby. A few turns later, Anna took us through a doorway into a spacious, well-lit hallway adorned with framed art on the walls and groupings of comfortable chairs. After the festive bustle of the lobby, the hushed quiet was eerie.
Calling out with a cry of relief, Anna raced through another door into a small, but elegantly appointed bathroom with two stalls. One was already occupied and Anna ran into the second, slamming the door behind her.
I checked over my hair and makeup at the vanity and then washed my hands. The bathroom may be decorated beautifully, but the person in the other stall was having a bad day. It smelled terrible.
“Anna, I’ll be waiting in the hall.”
“Okay,” she replied in a gasping voice, “but I may be a minute, so don’t leave me.”
Covering my face with my bent arm at the awful stench, I laughed. “I won’t.”
Quickly escaping the little gas chamber, I wandered further down the narrow hallway, idly checking out the paintings on the wall and then a map of the Bellagio.
Continuing my meandering towards the end of the hall, I stopped and cocked my head. I could have sworn I heard a muffled scream. I stood quietly and listened, facing a swinging door with no markings.
Again, I heard a cry that sounded like a female in distress and then thumping. I slowly pushed open the door and peeked inside.
On the other side of the door was another hallway much narrower than the one I was in, and the ceiling was lower, too. I immediately realized it was an area for employees. Recessed lighting in the ceiling every fifteen feet provided the only illumination, and it took a second for my eyes to adjust.
When they did, I saw a small blonde woman with her hair up in a bun about twenty feet from me, halfway down the hallway before it veered off to the left. Dressed in black, she was on her knees on the carpeted floor, rocking to and fro while rubbing her shoulder as if it hurt.
She was crouched near a tall, blonde man in a black suit. He was slender but had to be strong, since he had another man pinned up against the wall by his throat. The pinned man’s feet were dangling and when he kicked against the wall, I discovered where the thumping noise originated.
Even from my distance, I could see the blonde man didn’t appear angry, but was threatening the shorter man in a low, emotionless voice. Not able to make out the words, his cold, deadly tone still sent chills down my spine.
Head facing me, the pinned man saw me and cried out hoarsely, “Help me; he’s going to kill me!”
The blonde woman pulled on the pant leg of the tall man in the suit and pleaded, “Please, don’t hurt him.”
The blonde man reacted instantly to her touch and kicked out, roughly dislodging her hand off his leg. “Hands off the suit.”
I had no idea what was going on, but my gut was screaming the pasty tall guy was bad news. I was in Vegas for less than an hour and already regretted leaving Rita at home.
“Hey!” I called out sharply, opening the door wide. “What’s going on here?”
The blonde woman looked my way and climbed shakily to her feet. Shying nervously away from the blonde man, she kept her back against the wall and took a few steps towards me.
The blonde man slowly lowered the struggling, pinned man until his feet were flat on the carpet again, but didn’t remove the vise grip on his throat.
He regarded me with black eyes as cold as his voice. I actually couldn’t see his eye color from this far away, but his skin was incredibly white and his eye sockets were two black holes in the dim lighting.
“This is a restricted area, ma’am, for Bellagio staff only. You shouldn’t be back here.”
Innocuous, polite words, but I heard his underlying threat.
I’ve never been one to respond well to threats from bullies.
So I ignored this one and responded like a smart ass, which has worked so well for me in the past.
“And yet, here I am.” Kicking down the rubber stop of the swinging door with my boot heel, I was careful it didn’t fall shut again before I walked into the narrow passage.
Standing just outside the circle of light spilling in from the other hallway, I allowed my purse to hang from its long, thin strap off my shoulder. My arms hung loose at my sides, and I kept a wary eye on the blonde man.
With his narrow head almost exaggeratedly tilted to the side, he gazed at me in return, an arrested expression on his face. I didn’t know what that look was about because I’d never seen him before in my life. There’s no way I would ever forget a man that gave me such heebie-jeebies from twenty feet way. Darcy Milton would probably say his aura was black.
Evil dude got my full attention when he snarled menacingly, “You have no idea what you’re getting involved in here.”
“You have no idea how often that happens to me,” I acknowledged honestly. Motioning to the hurt woman, I smiled encouragingly. “Come here, please.”
She didn’t hesitate, but limped down the hall while still holding a hand to her right shoulder. The blonde man observed us impassively, if blazing dark eyeballs in black sockets could be impassive, and made no move to stop her.
As she came closer, I observed she was a girl, not much more than eighteen. Her black blouse was mostly tucked into a knee length skirt, except for the shirt tail hanging out on one side. Her dishwater blonde bun leaned precariously to one side. I noticed a white name tag pinned up near her shoulder.
When she reached my side, I divided my attention between her and the blonde man.
Smiling briefly into her worried face, I kept my voice low, “Hi, Melody. My name is Anabel. Are you feeling okay enough to wait for a second or do you need a doctor?”
“Hi. I don’t need a doctor,” she assured me quickly. “I guess I can wait.” She leaned back against the wall near the doorway, eyes anxiously appraising me.
Softly, I asked, “Should the small guy be let go?”
She wiped her eyes with both hands and then shoulders slumped, she nodded jerkily.
I was unable to read the situation by her strange body language because she didn’t appear terribly frightened, but she was disheveled and nervous. I decided to do as she said and deal with the details later.
Facing the tall blonde man, I waved to indicate the shorter, stockier man who looked to be in his mid-twenties and was whimpering in his grip. “Let him go.”
The blonde man watched me with those dead eyes and then abruptly lifted both his hands in the air, releasing the smaller man.
Without opening his mouth, the blonde man smiled down at his victim. “You heard the lady. Go.”
The short guy looked even more scared witnessing that close-lipped smile but then he shook himself, as if coming out of a trance. He stumbled, but then recovered and took off down the hallway. He ran around the corner without looking back.
The blonde man didn’t lose the creepy half smile or stop staring at me while he straightened his tie, shot his cuffs, and then smoothed a hand over his slick, side-parted hair. He even shook his leg and glanced down at the sharp crease in his pants on the side Melody had touched. He was so slender, and his arms and legs so long, his quick movements appeared spider-like.
His chalky white skin, blondness, and persnickety attention to grooming reminded me of a character on the TV sitcom Frasier. He could pass for the living dead twin of Niles Crane, or maybe he was the Crane brother’s first cousin fathered by an arachnid.
I waved my hand again and called out, “Thank you. We’re done here. You can run along, too.”
The blonde man didn’t lose the smile. “I’ll be seeing you, Anabel.”
He turned and walked in the same direction the other guy had run. I half expected him to skitter up the walls. The tension drained from my shoulders when his tall form disappeared around the corner.
“Not if I see you first, freaky spider man,” I muttered to myself, as I kicked up the doorstop so the door would swing closed.
Melody reminded me of her presence when she g
iggled.
I smiled and commented in a normal voice, “Holy crap, that short guy might be the biggest douchebag in the world, but I sure hope he didn’t stop running.”
Nodding her head so forcefully in agreement that more strands of blonde hair fell loose from her askew bun, Melody ardently concurred, “So do I!”
About to get down to some serious questioning, I heard Anna call out in a weak voice, “Junior, where the heck are you?”
“Here I am.” I walked out into the wider hallway with Melody.
Anna came towards us, face alive with curiosity as her eyes traveled over Melody. She laughed and pretended to gag. “Dear God, I think I’ve been poisoned. The woman’s still in there, but never made a sound.”
I introduced the two. Anna shot me a searching look when I held up a finger, asking for a minute alone with Melody. I returned her look steadily and Anna took the hint, saying she had to check her phone. She went off to have a seat in one of the comfortable groupings of chairs lining the walls to wait for me.
When she settled out of earshot, I asked the young girl, “You’re holding your shoulder and limping. Are you sure you shouldn’t see a doctor?”
She moved her head emphatically enough to cause her loosened bun to sway precariously from side to side. “No, really, I’ll be fine. I fell on my side and landed on my hip and banged up my shoulder, but nothing’s broken. Most likely, I’ll be sore for a couple of days and have a big bruise is all.”
“Who was that scary blonde dude?”
She grimaced. “His name is Mr. Koch. Kyle Koch.”
“Mr. Cock?” I repeated with a short laugh. “How fitting. What did I walk in on back there?”
Melody smiled nervously. “It’s spelled K-o-c-h.” Her smiled died and she shuffled her feet, glancing over at Anna. “You won’t report this to anybody, will you? Mr. Koch could get me fired and I can’t afford to lose my job.”
I lowered my voice to match hers. “I’ll make you a deal. As long as you’re not in any danger, I won’t report it.”
