Too late he discovered Mother’s true age. Threatened with a felony prosecution, the choice was simple—he denied everything and she refused to name the father—my father. Unbeknownst to anyone, they had spoken every night since. Neither ever married. When The Big Boss faced death, he called for Mother, and she’d been front and center in his life—and apparently, his bed—ever since. Talk about history repeating itself!
At least, if I hurried, this time around there wouldn’t be any felonies involved.
***
The sound of happy people playing hit me before I reached the casino. The come-on songs of the slots competed with the buzz of voices and the piped-in background music, creating a symphony that was music to my ears. A full casino was essential to my job security.
Tonight the large room was packed—all shapes and sizes ringed the table games, three deep around some. The slots were fully occupied. Patrons waiting for a machine circled lazily like sharks timing the kill. Delilah’s Bar, the main watering hole, sat on a raised platform in the middle of the casino. Colored cloth tented above it, carrying the theme from the lobby into the large room where it was repeated over and over to give the feeling of a comforting Persian marketplace. Torches flamed under glass. Cascades of flowering plants draped from pillars and latticework, defining the cozy space of the bar. Water features burbled in the corners; a wall of water cascading behind the bar was the centerpiece. I heard someone playing the piano, but I didn’t stop to listen. Teddie used to play the piano in Delilah’s while he waited for me to end my day. Too many memories…
As I strode through the casino, dodging patrons, I tried to read the crowd—it was a game I played. Where were they from? What did they do? What were they looking for in Vegas? Were they finding it? The aliens still in costume were easy, so I eliminated them. The two guys in plaid shirts and creased jeans leaning against a pillar, sipping drinks and eyeing the ladies, looked like two lawyers from Dallas. Their look was too studied—a purchased casualness… lawyers for sure. The three guys in suits with open collars and loafers with no socks shouted European. I didn’t know any red-blooded American male who would be caught dead wearing nice shoes with no socks. And everyone on this continent knew suits in Vegas screamed “over the hill.”
My eyes came to rest on a lady nursing a yard of daiquiris. I’d pegged her age to be somewhere mid-fifties. She wore tight, pink spandex pants, and a tee shirt stretched to its limit across her very ample chest. Emblazoned across her front was the slogan “If these were brains I’d be a genius.”
I smiled. I couldn’t help myself. Glancing down at my own inadequate chest I figured if hers were genius material, mine were double-digit IQ at best. Ah me, just one of my many inadequacies. If I weren’t rushing to the scene of a future crime, I’d stop and talk to her. Anyone who would wear that shirt in public was worth knowing.
On the far side of the casino, I pressed the button, summoning an elevator, and stared at my reflection in the polished brass doors. Tall, and after enduring the last six weeks of enforced loneliness, I’d finally made it to trim. My skirt was loose and the front kept chasing away around to the back. I’d never had that problem before—I assumed some fashion trick I didn’t know would solve the issue, but for now a safety pin was in order.
My hair, recently returned to its natural light brown, brushed my shoulders in soft waves. A thin fringe tickled my eyes, drawing attention to their size and their…blueness. With a deft touch and some blush, my recalcitrant cheekbones could sometimes be encouraged to show themselves—tonight wasn’t one of those times. And if eyes really are a reflection of your soul, then mine was an old, tired soul.
As the bell dinged and the elevator doors eased open, I gave my appearance a “C,” chalking up my deficiencies to too many hours at work, too many days without rest, and no sex. All were related, but I was too tired to make the connections. I wondered how long the flight was to Helsinki, or whatever faraway place Teddie played next, and how much a first-class ticket and some sleep would cost. Whatever the price, I was close to the point that I’d pay it no matter what… if only Teddie asked me to come.
But he hadn’t. He’d been distancing himself more and more—I couldn’t remember our last conversation—had it been four days? Five? Even though I didn’t want to acknowledge it, Teddie had not only put distance between us, he was truly gone—he just hadn’t told me so. Our time together a distant, exquisite fantasy…a memory, nothing more. The thought cracked my heart. Something needed to be done; I just didn’t seem to have the proper knife to sever the tie that binds. I so enjoyed being one of a pair… So now I dangled, like the condemned at the end of a rope, unable and unwilling to free myself.
Stepping into the elevator, I stuck my magic card into the slot and pressed PH, then leaned against the side and shut my eyes. Fifty-two floors, forty winks, that ought to at least help.
It didn’t.
“There you are.” My father stopped his pacing as I stepped from the elevator. He’d been lurking by the doors, apparently waiting for me. “It’s about time. I can’t do anything with the woman. She’s lost her mind!”
A short man, his dark hair now turning a distinguished salt-and-pepper, his features still chisled, his body the envy of men twenty years his junior, he came to a stop in front of me. Dressed in a white polo shirt and casual slacks, he looked…sexy. I shivered. Now that was a creepy thought to have about my father. Of course, the father thing was still pretty new… but still, I needed to get a grip.
I must’ve been staring because my father said, “What?”
“I don’t think I’ve seen you out of your suit before, except in the gym, but that’s different.”
For a moment, he stared at me, his eyes blinking furiously. There was anger there, and a hint of amusement. All was not lost.
“There must be some weird affliction affecting the women in my life—neither you nor your mother is making any sense whatsoever,” he finally announced.
“That’s our job—keep you men off kilter so you don’t think you’re running the world.”
“Running the world?” He rolled his eyes, another first. “I can’t even run my life. I’ve been chasing my tail ever since your mother moved in.” He made a sweeping gesture with one hand, as he grabbed my elbow with the other, urging me inside. “You have to talk some sense into her.”
“She is sort of an unguided missile in the battle of life, isn’t she?” I would’ve added he’s obviously been chasing Mother’s tail as well, but I stifled myself—he looked on the brink of homicide as it was.
“She’d charge Hell with a bucket of ice water.” He shot me a half-smile that looked a bit forced. “I love that about her.”
“Me, too. I’ll see what I can do.”
Our steps echoed off the burnished mahogany floors as he escorted me through the vast main room of his apartment—past lesser works of the Great Masters (small pieces from his impressive collection on display downstairs) hanging on the leather upholstered walls and appropriately lit with brass fixtures, and past tasteful arrangements of furniture constructed of woods from various continents and hides from various beasts, all sitting on perfectly knotted, exquisitely hued silk carpets. He didn’t even let me linger at his wall of floor-to-ceiling windows to drink in the incredible view of the Strip.
He stopped at the entrance to the hallway leading to the private areas. “She’s in the master bedroom.”
“And that would be… ?”
“Through the double doors at the end of the hall. You can’t miss it. Good luck.” He turned on his heel and headed for the bar.
As I stared down the long corridor in front of me, I felt like Indiana Jones entering a cave to face life-threatening challenges. Except, for me, there was no treasure at the end of the test. The soft carpet cushioned my steps as I advanced on the double doors.
“Mother?”
“In here, Dear,” she cheerily replied.
This was not good. Mona always used honey to lure
the bear to the trap.
Mother sat in the middle of a huge four-poster, her long legs crossed, her brow furrowed. She’d pulled her dark hair into a hasty knot at the nape of her neck. A few tendrils had escaped and curled softly around her face, hiding any hint of her penchant for plastic surgery. Her skin flawless, her blue eyes luminous, she looked younger than me—not something I took pride in, but I refused to engage in a war of the scalpel with her.
She chewed on the end of a pencil as she stared at a notepad, which she held at arm’s-length, too vain to admit she needed reading glasses. Without glancing up, she motioned me over.
I paused awkwardly at the edge of the bed, taking a moment to drink in my surroundings. A very masculine room, blues and browns dominated the color scheme, with hints of gold in the damask headboard and bedspread. Another wall of windows captured the Strip at a jaw-dropping angle. A few animal heads hung on the far wall over the fireplace, glaring accusatorily. I never understood the whole dead zoo thing, and I didn’t think I would want to sleep in one. Mother, on the other hand, looked right at home.
“Sit.” My mother patted a spot on the bed next to her.
Instead, I grabbed the desk chair and pulled it around so I could face her. Sitting on the bed my mother shared with The Big Boss didn’t seem right. In fact, the thought made me queasy. I’m very visual, and having right in front of me the prop where in all likelihood my future sibling was conceived didn’t help at all.
Never one to wade into the shallow end, I decided to leap headfirst into the fray. “Want to tell me about the Pussy Palace?”
Mother’s smile snapped down into a frown as she glared at me. “They moved in right down the street! Can you believe it? Trying to steal my thunder. Imagine!”
I didn’t think that’s what they were trying to steal but, valuing my life, I didn’t say so. “What are you going to do?”
“Compete!” she announced proudly. “First, I’m developing a list of specials I thought we might offer.”
“Specials?” That queasy feeling hit me again.
She consulted her notes. “We could do golf packages with the championship course that opened recently in Pahrump—I know they’re trying to attract new business.”
“Your slogan could be ‘Come, play a round, then play around with us,’” I suggested. “ There’s got to be something about a short stick… or maybe something about not feeling up to par… or maybe ‘we can polish your balls.’”
Mona narrowed her eyes at me. “What about a flat rate program on our slow days—all the sex and liquor you can stand between the hours of four and seven in the afternoon, for one low price?”
“You’ve been doing some thinking,” I said, biting back my smile.
“Oh, I’m just getting started. We could have a loyalty club—”
“Twelve punches and the thirteenth is free?” I suggested, warming to the game.
“I knew you weren’t taking this seriously,” she huffed. “Sweetheart, this could really work—orgy parties like the sex clubs here in town, daily specials, which we already do, discount coupons.”
“What about a movie night? You could show some of the porn I get for the girls at Smokin’ Joes.” I was teasing, but she took me seriously, scribbling the idea on her pad.
“And a senior night?” she asked.
“No, you’d have to charge them more,” I remarked, trying to keep a straight face. “The old men take too long.”
“Now you’re being snarky.” She put down her pad and gave me that all knowing–mother look. “Not getting any, are you?”
“I have hit a dry spell with Teddie being gone and all.”
“Being a good girl and keeping the home fires burning?”
“You make me sound like Tom Bodette in those silly Motel Six commercials… ‘We’ll keep the light on for ya’.’ Whatever happened to those anyway?”
“They went the way of the Dodo.”
“Cute. Are you trying to tell me I’m being stupid?”
“Teddie’s chasing his dream; you need to find yours.”
My dream was a man at home; Teddie’s dreams took him on the road—I didn’t see an easy solution, so I did what I always do with an impossible personal problem—I shelved it—and changed the subject. “Mother, you can’t keep doing this.”
“Doing what?”
“Pretending life is going to go on as it always has.” I reached over and took her hand. “You cannot have it all.”
“Why not? Why do we have to play by other people’s rules? Why do we always have to give up something, a part of ourselves, to get something…someone…we want? ”
“Maybe it’s the price the universe charges for dreams. The Big Boss is a very important businessman. He has a certain reputation to uphold. With prostitution illegal in Clark County, you two in bed together puts him in a very awkward position—not only with his corporate investors, but with the Gaming Commission as well.”
“What should I do?”
“Give Mona’s Place to Trudi, tell The Big Boss he is going to be a father, and live your life at his side.”
My mother seemed to shrink within herself. “I’ve been thinking about it—I know you’re right. But, give up Mona’s Place? I can’t bring myself to do it,” she whispered.
“Why not? Trudi would do a great job—she’s been with you forever.”
“I’m afraid I would lose myself.”
“Mother, that business doesn’t define you. The Big Boss doesn’t define you. You would never tolerate that—you’re not one to hide in anyone’s shadow.”
“I know. If I want a new life, I have to let the old one go.” She gave me a piercing look that was pretty easy to interpret—the relationship doctor should focus on healing herself.
Head in the sand, my heart as delicate as paper-thin Victorian china, I chose to ignore her.
Mona straightened her back a little—her confidence growing. “This is such a different world here. I don’t know the rules. You and Albert handle it all so seamlessly, with such ease.”
“You’ll get used to it. Actually, it’s not that different than running a bordello in Pahrump. We’re still in the service business; we just deal with more money and larger egos here in Sin City.” I could see her starting to believe me. “Life with The Big Boss is your dream come true. Don’t lose courage now. Seize it before it’s too late.”
“But Mona’s Place is my legacy—it’s the only thing I have to leave to you.”
“It’s okay,” I patted her hand. “You’ve given me a lifetime of wonderful memories and that’s even better.” Personally, I would be appalled to wake up one morning to find myself the owner of a whorehouse in Pahrump, but it would hurt her to tell her so.
She swiped at a tear. “Now you’re just being nice.”
“It happens occasionally.” I pulled her toward the edge of the bed. “Come. We need to rescue Father from a bottle of Wild Turkey.”
***
The Big Boss sat on one of the large leather couches facing the brilliant lights of the Strip. As he stared out the window, his fingers worked a small scrap of paper, which I knew to be a one-hundred-dollar bill—folding it, creasing the fold, then making another. Without thinking, he would turn the bill into a small origami animal. Lately he’d been on an elephant kick—he made them with their trunks raised—an ancient sign of good luck, he’d said. I wondered if he’d been unwittingly creating fertility talismans as well.
Mother curled in next to him. Looping an arm around her shoulders, he pulled her tight as he stuffed the tiny paper creature into his pocket. Turning my back to my parents, I stood looking out at my city.
“Lucky has helped me make a few decisions,” my mother announced, breaking the comfortable silence. “I’m giving my business to Trudi.”
Glancing at my father, I saw him visibly relax. His eyes telegraphed his thanks. “I know that will be hard for you,” he said to my mother.
“Yes, I fought long and hard for that business.
It’s a part of me. I will have to find another way to help the girls.” She glanced at my father who gave her a nod. “So, yes it will be hard, but perhaps not quite as hard as what I have to tell you.”
“My cue to leave,” I said. It hadn’t been a rat I smelled—it’d been a setup.
My mother grabbed my hand and held tight. “Don’t leave. I need your support.”
I tried in vain to extricate my hand. “Mother, this isn’t my place.”
“What is this about?” My father looked alarmed.
“It’s a family matter and we’re family. Please stay. I need you here,” my mother implored. Gripping my hand like a lifeline, she shrugged herself off The Big Boss’s shoulder and turned to look at him. With her free hand, she clutched his. “Albert, I have something to tell you.”
Chapter Three
I BRACED for impact.
“Albert. Sweetheart… ” Mona trailed off, clearly losing her nerve.
She let go of my hand and I moved back to the window, out of the danger zone.
“Lucky, would you tell him? I can’t seem to find the words.” The skin drawn tight across her face, she looked stricken—or she needed to change surgeons.
“No, I won’t tell him! You know what happens to the messenger.”
“Well, one of you damn well better tell me before I shoot you both,” my father said. His voice, tinged with anger, rode on an undercurrent of frustration.
Mona took a deep breath. Let it out. Drew herself up. Then sagged once again. She threw a pleading look at me, but I didn’t cave.
“Okay… Albert… ” She started once again, this time looking more determined. She looked him in the eye. “I’m carrying our child.”
I heard the Fates laughing in the silence that followed.
My father stared at Mona, his face blank, the muscles slack. “What?” he finally managed to choke.
“I’m pregnant.”
Another long silence as my father stared at my mother. I thought I felt the planets shift in their orbits—or maybe I was imagining it.
So Damn Lucky (Lucky O'Toole Vegas Adventure Book 3) Page 4
