Beautiful Girls

by Gary S. Griffin

  Edie asked, “Which one does he mean?”

  Mel answered, “Well, one of them is right next door, inside the Bellagio. A big part of that show involves divers and swimmers into a pool.”

  Edie said, “That’s got to be it. My dad wrote not to get wet at the circus.”

  “You could be right,” Mel said. Then, she continued, “Cirque du Soleil has a show starting at eight.”

  I said, “It’s 7:40 now. We could just make it if we hurry.”

  Edie asked, “Mel, where would my father hide a clue at the circus?”

  “I don’t know. Cirque is a stage show, not a real circus.”

  Edie said, “Right. Where will you two start to look?”

  I said, “I don’t know.”

  Mel said, “Stevie, I need to change out of this cocktail dress now or we’ll be late.”

  Mel got up, walked to the bar, and told Jim, the assistant manager, she needed to leave, he shrugged, and then she disappeared into the kitchen.

  Edie broke my focus on my waitress when she said, “Stevie, Stevie…”

  “Yes, Edie.”

  “She must be good looking, isn’t she?”

  “Oh, Edie…”

  “Stevie!”

  “Yes, she’s cute. She’s a kid and thinks this is a big game.”

  “Yes, I can hear it in her voice. Mel seems like a good person. She is helping us. Be careful and be careful with her.”

  “I will.”

  “Does Mel know my father?”

  “No, she never met him, as far as she can remember.”

  Then, Edie asked, “Where is this leading?”

  “I don’t know. Rob has some sort of method to his madness.”

  “Do you think he’s watching you?”

  “I’m not sure. I know he’s not in this place. It’s too small and has too few people. I’m not sure if he’s waiting outside or if he’ll be at Cirque du Soleil.”

  I asked about Edie’s night and plans. She and Tawny were still watching a movie. She explained that she had scheduled meetings in Los Angeles on Monday with Tawny’s school and Bambi’s lawyer.

  “Stevie, I better get back to Tawny as she’s waiting for me. Call me at nine tomorrow morning and give me an update. Call anytime if you’re in trouble.”

  “I will, baby. Goodnight.”

  “Goodnight, Mr. Private Eye.”

  O

  Mel appeared.

  “Stevie we’ve got to hurry, let’s go.”

  Mel had changed into hip-hugging white pants, a black cotton blouse and black heels. She grabbed my hand, pulled me down the hallway and we were out the front door in seconds.

  “Follow me. I know a short cut into the Bellagio.”

  I kept up with her but was impressed how fast she could walk in four-inch heels. We turned left, right and left down a short driveway, a long walkway and a narrow alley and entered the service door in the back of Bellagio. I could see the brightly shining hotel towering above us in the dark evening sky. I noticed the temperature had cooled.

  Within ten minutes we were walking in the main lobby. The Bellagio was an impressive site, with its wall murals, marble floors, fountains, shops and statuary.

  Mel pulled me onward to the Cirque du Soleil theatre.

  “This place is expensive, Stevie. Do you have enough to cover us?”

  “How much is the show?”

  “Well, it depends where we sit.”

  Then, we were at the front of the line and the clerk said, “Hello.”

  Two hundred and sixty dollars later and only a few minutes before the show started, we were in our seats. What a bizarre show it was! The show was titled the letter “O”, but I don’t know why. I couldn’t figure out any story line, but it held my attention. It was amazing how the stage changed from a floor to a pool and back to a floor during the show. We sat in the tenth row and had a perfect view of everything, including the expressions on the performers’ faces and the antics within the pool.

  The acrobats and dancers in “O” were simply astounding. They wore striped leotards and flew through the air. We sat amazed at all that happened in front, above and below us. I truly didn’t think people could do all those athletic moves.

  Mel loved the show. She sat very erect and didn’t use the back of her chair. She looked at me often to see if I liked the show as much as her.

  During the scene changes I kept searching the crowd and the stage for some sign of Rob Nealy. I saw none.

  It was hard to focus on my task due to the mind-blowing show. During the second half, I wondered, with what was left of my mind, where we would find the next clue. I had an idea.

  After the final curtain descended upon the stage I asked Mel, “Did you see anything that looked like a clue?”

  “Are you kidding, my head is spinning from all the sights and sounds! That show’s incredible!”

  “It really was. Though, I didn’t see anything that looked like a clue either. Yet, this show got me thinking. How would Rob hide anything up on stage or in the pool here? We’d never find it. I don’t think Rob could get on stage. I guess he could toss the clue disk in the pool, but someone would likely see him. The security is pretty tight in here. Plus, he wants us to find the clues.”

  “That’s true, Stevie. So, what are you thinking?”

  “I’m thinking we have a big search in front of us.”

  “What?”

  “Do you remember the clue? Rob’s note said that we should look carefully where we sit. I wonder if he wrote that because he hid the clue under one of the seats.”

  Mel answered, “I don’t know, do you think?”

  “Maybe, I just can’t come up with anything else.”

  “Oh, man, Stevie. There’s what, over a thousand seats in this theatre?”

  “Probably more…”

  We stopped talking and looked around the theatre. The audience was filing out. One by one the chair seats were automatically returning to their upright positions, with their bottoms visible from the stage. I thought of a way to make this search go quickly. I would use Mel’s charms to go along with what brains I had. Good thing, because the ushers were looking our way.

  “Mel, we need to act fast.”

  We did. I quickly told Mel my idea. She then pleaded with an usher, who spread the word to the others.

  Our luck continued. Within six minutes, an usher located our “lost” item in the fifth row center of the balcony. There, affixed to a seat bottom with chewing gum was another clear, round disk.

  We took the disk, gave the ushers our thanks and a tip and left the theatre.

  The Third Clue

  It was now 9:40. Mel knew of a quiet lounge off the Bellagio lobby where her sister, Harmony, worked.

  Harmony Pima looked very much like Melody. There were nearly the same height and weight. Their bodies were similar too. The main difference was their hair. While Mel had Irish red hair, Harmony’s was what people used to call Black Irish. Harmony’s very dark hair was pulled backed into a thick, braided ponytail that extended to her waist. She wore the lounge’s uniform; a black mini-dress that had a sparkling thread to it. Her severe look seemed intimidating until she spoke; she had the sweetest little girl voice. I sensed sibling rivalry between the sisters as Mel acted as if something was going on between us. As such, Harmony limited her table talk and spoke in a polite, formal manner.

  Mel and I both believed our night had just begun, so we ordered coffee instead of a drink. We were seated at a quiet cocktail table in the back of the poorly lit lounge. We waited until our coffees had been delivered and Harmony had departed before we opened the clue. We both drank our coffee with just cream added.

  Again, the disk contained two pieces of paper. The next part of scripture read:

  “Who is this fellow David?” Nabal sneered to the young men. “Who does this son of Jesse think he is? There are lots of servants these days who run away from their masters. Should I take my bread and my water and my meat that I�
��ve slaughtered for my shearers and give it to a band of outlaws who come from who knows where?”

  So David’s young men returned and told him what Nabal had said. “Get your swords!” was David’s reply as he strapped on his own. Then 400 men started off with David, and 200 remained behind to guard their equipment.

  We looked at each other after we finished reading.

  “OK, so, David was spurned and insulted, and he went to fight Nabal with his men,” I said.

  “Yeah, Nabal is calling David a runaway servant and an outlaw, who doesn’t deserve Nabal’s food. How does that relate to you and Edie?”

  “Who knows, Mel?” Her question stayed on my mind.

  I opened the small letter with the clue.

  Hello David,

  I’m impressed with your hunting abilities. Now you will pay tribute to the Roman emperor. You’ll find the next clue in the pristine air above the den of Bacchus. I’m sure you’ll feel right at home. Ask the Bard’s lover for help.

  Nabal

  Mel said, “He must mean Caesar’s Palace.”

  “I agree. What about this part, where he writes of pristine air above the den of Bacchus? I think Bacchus is the Roman god of wine and partying.”

  “There’s a big nightclub there called Pure. That has to be it.”

  I asked, “What’s Pure like?”

  “It has a downstairs bar and an upstairs one that’s outside. The first floor area is the main part of the club with a big white room that has a dance floor. There are private rooms off to the sides. The upstairs terrace has a good view of the city. Downstairs is where the main action is, though. On a Friday night like this, it will be packed.”

  Mel pulled her cell phone out of her purse, checked the time and said, “It’s almost ten. Well, we’re lucky. Pure doesn’t get real crowded until midnight. We should get in. I think the club opens at 10:30.”

  “Is it really that hard to get in?”

  “Yes, you won’t believe it. If you thought our bouncer at Liquid was tough, wait till you see Pure.”

  “Oh, boy!”

  “Stevie, since we’re going at the opening, let’s try to get in as general admission.”

  “What are the other options?”

  “Well, a club like Pure really pushes bottle service.”

  I asked, “What’s that?”

  She smiled and touched my hand.

  “You really don’t know Las Vegas, do you, Stevie?”

  “This is my first visit.”

  “OK, well, bottle service is where, for a price, I think Pure is over three hundred dollars, you get a great table, and they bring you your glasses, bottles of booze and mixers. They also assign a guard who makes sure no one else sits at your table or hits on your girls.”

  “Wow, really?”

  “Yes. Since we’re there to find the next clue, we might need to buy one drink to blend in, but that should do it. Even still, the cover may be thirty dollars to get in.”

  “Vegas ain’t cheap, is it?”

  She answered, “No it isn’t. As they say, if you have to ask — you can’t afford it. I’m one of those who can’t afford it. I don’t want to pay anything to get in!”

  “How can we do that?”

  “Well, the third way to get in is to get on a VIP list.”

  “How do you do that?”

  Mel answered, “You need to know someone. And, I do. My ex-boyfriend works in Caesar’s casino. We’re still friends, we had an easy breakup; he’s too immature for me. Eric’s a manager of security or something, I can’t remember. He can always get me on the VIP list.”

  “That’s nice of him.”

  “Yeah, it is, but I look after him too. He likes getting into to Liquid on weekends in summer because there are really hot girls around the pool. So, he’ll do it for me, if he’s on duty. I’ll call him.”

  “Sure.”

  Our luck held one more time. Mel’s ex, Eric, was on break from his shift and said he’d walk over to Pure and get us on the VIP list. Mel told Eric I was a celebrity from L.A.

  I thought, whatever works.

  Before we left the Bellagio’s lounge, I asked Mel, “So, you think Rob’s pristine air comment would be the second floor terrace?”

  “Sure, we should check there first. What’s the Bard’s lover?”

  “The Bard is a nickname for Shakespeare and his most famous lovers are Romeo and Juliet. So, maybe an employee at the bar has one of those names.”

  “Do you think a bartender would have the clue?”

  “Who knows? Rob did give the first clue to his friend in the soup kitchen. So, maybe he’s asked someone to hold it again.”

  Mel said, “Yeah, could be. It would be awfully hard to hide one of those disks in Pure, you know, with the huge crowds and all. Plus, I bet they really clean up the place each morning. I’m sure it looks really trashed after a big night.”

  I asked, “You’re probably right. So, where is Caesar’s Palace from here?”

  “Its north, about a mile or so up The Strip. It’s too far for me to walk in these heels. Let’s take a taxi.”

  We headed out into the night air and made our way up The Strip.

  Impure

  As our taxi pulled up right in front of Pure we saw the insanity that was about to engulf us. There were badly formed lines of people trying to get in all around the entrance. As I paid the cab Mel walked ahead towards the shortest line.

  She had almost reached the end of that line when she turned and saw me fifty yards back. Mel waved at me to hurry up.

  There were about twenty people in front of us. It was 10:20.

  “Stevie, this is the VIP line; it’s not too bad. Sometimes this line can be as long as the other one.”

  Across from us, there must have been about two hundred people bunched behind another rope. The women wore all kinds of club wear, especially brightly colored mini-dresses. Guys mostly wore t-shirts and jeans, and seemed underdressed compared to their girls.

  The VIP’s in front of us yelled at the bouncers trying to get their attention. When they did, the bouncers would check their names on their clip boards and slowly decide if and when to let a group in. We waited and slowly but surely most of the VIP’s were admitted to the club. Mel used the time to reapply her lip gloss, brush her long hair, adjust her slacks and unbutton another button on her blouse. She looked like she was getting her clubbing groove on.

  Mel turned and gave me an appraising look. Like hers, she unbuttoned my shirt more. Then, she ran her fingers through my hair, loosening up my locks.

  “There, you look more like a celebrity,” she said.

  I laughed and said, “Is that all it takes?”

  At 10:52, twenty-two minutes after the opening, Mel had flagged down a bouncer. She spoke our names and he looked down his list.

  Mel squeezed my hand when he looked up and said, “Ahh….Pima, two?”

  Mel said, “That’s right.”

  Mr. Bouncer said, “OK, go on in.”

  Mel hugged me and said, “Thank you. Let’s go, Stevie.”

  We left the huge crowd behind, wondering who we must be to get in so quickly.

  The main room was down the entrance hall. This walk introduced us to the music, the loud music. Fortunately for me, they didn’t play hip hop or rap. Mostly it was pop and rock, with some techno, which I like. Unfortunately for me, the volume was about twice the level I prefer.

  Then, Pure’s main room opened in front of us. The floor, the walls, the tables and the couches were all white. Subdued lighting and spotlights, mostly colored purple, shone down from the black studio-like ceiling. There were smaller rooms off to the sides which were hard to see into. The main space already felt cramped, yet the club still had the crowd outside to accommodate. The dance floor was already packed.

  Mel knew her way around and pulled me through this center room to the steps that led upstairs. As we rose, I pulled back on her arm to stop about halfway up. We were on a landing that had a compl
ete view of the dance floor and the couches and tables. I had to almost scream in her ear for her to hear.

  “Let’s look around here for a minute to see if we spot the clue.”

  She looked at me like I was a little crazy, but nodded her head. We took our time. Mel looked from left to right and I moved my head the opposite way. No luck. All I spotted were the little soap operas playing out on the dance floor and at the tables.

  I shook my head at Mel and pointed upwards. She continued climbing the steps.

  The rooftop was completely different from the main floor. Where the first floor was cramped, white and a sensory overload, the roof was spacious, quieter and open to incredible views. Mel and I could have an actual conversation. The multicolored lights and images of The Strip surrounded us. We found a side table right away where we developed our plan.

  Mel needed to use the rest room but said we should first move to the bar and order our drinks.

  She said, “Surprise me, Stevie. I’ll nurse it while we talk and look. That way the bartender won’t think we’re hogging his time.”

  “Good idea.”

  We saw and grabbed two stools at the quiet end of the bar away from the stairs. Mel sat for a moment, but left as the bartender approached.

  I couldn’t believe my eyes when I read the bartender’s name tag: “Romeo”. That one look convinced me we had figured out Rob’s clue. Romeo looked like he could have lived in the Renaissance with his Mediterranean complexion, longish black hair and solidly built six foot one inch frame. However, his black t-shirt revealed that he lived in the modern age; black ink tattoos were showing on his upper arms.

  I recovered my focus to say that my friend would be right back.

  He seemed surprised. “She’s only your friend?”

  I thought he was probing, but wanted to get on his good side. So, I said, “Yeah, we just met tonight.”

  “Oh, I see. She’s a nice package. I bet you’d like to open it, wouldn’t you?”