For a moment, my father stared out over the bright lights of our city. “I haven’t quite figured out how to massage that one, but I’ll think of something.”
I took a deep, steadying breath—I’d been doing a lot of that lately. “Sounds good. I’ll hit my friends, then maybe an announcement over the internal communications closed-circuit. After that maybe a memo to the board—I don’t know how any of this will affect them. Then I’ll turn Flash loose, and you and I will brace for the storm.”
We both fell silent. I know I was contemplating the future and the maelstrom ahead. I’m sure he was doing the same.
“How did you find me,” I asked, when I grew weary of worrying where my life was headed.
“Your mother told me about your day. After you left, she came clean about hers as well, and she insisted we find you. When you wouldn’t answer your phone, I had Forrest look for you. He couldn’t find you either.”
“So you thought of this place,” I said.
“Hmmm.”
“Do you remember when you brought me here the first time?” I asked.
“Not the specifics. But I remember you were so upset.”
“The minor movie star out by the pool… ” I hinted.
My father chuckled. “Oh yeah. You got the best of him as I recall.”
“Damn straight.”
“Teddie will be back,” my father said, poking me with the point of the blade when I least expected it. I guess that’s what fathers are for.
“Maybe. Maybe not.”
“He’s in love with you and he’s scared.”
“Maybe. Maybe not.”
“What are you going to do about it?” The Big Boss asked.
“Live well.”
Chapter Twelve
THE sun peeked over the horizon, bathing the ridges in pinks and oranges as I backed out of the parking lot and followed The Big Boss’s limo out to Charleston, turning toward town. Feeling more myself, but in desperate need of a shower, new clothes, and a new start, I headed for the office—the shower was small but functional, and I kept several outfits hanging in the closet for emergencies. I didn’t want to ruin the new day by going home, with memories of what I had lost lingering there.
Showered and scrubbed, spit-and-polished, I started to feel like my old self again—the old self who was okay with dining alone, sleeping alone. The old self who understood Teddie had to figure things out for himself. The old self who wasn’t going to wait around on the off chance he might come crawling back.
An hour later, the papers on my desk dealt with and now residing in Miss P’s in basket, I heard the office door open.
Miss P’s head appeared around the doorframe. “What are you doing here? Where’s Teddie?”
“Recent history to the contrary, I work here. And he’s gone.” I motioned to a chair across from me. “Come. Sit. I have something to tell you.”
Her head disappeared and I heard her talking in a low voice.
“If Jeremy is here, he needs to hear this, too.”
They both trooped in and took their positions, Miss P in the chair, Jeremy, one cheek propped on the arm, his hand resting lightly on his love’s shoulder. They both stared at me, serious expressions on their faces, as if I was going to announce the end of life as we know it.
“This is not a bad thing. It’s a good thing.” I placed both hands, palms down, on the desk.
“You and Teddie are getting married,” Jeremey piped up, skewering my heart. He let out an “oof” when Miss P’s elbow hit him in the ribs.
“No. He’s gone.” Not wanting to talk about it, I waved away the questions I saw on their faces. I had no idea how to do this, so I did what The Big Boss had always told me to do: I started at the beginning. “Do you guys remember last summer, when The Big Boss had heart surgery?”
They both nodded, clearly confused.
“He thought he might die, so he told me a secret, something he had kept to himself for years,” I continued. “A secret he didn’t want to die without explaining.”
“Is he in trouble?” Jeremy asked, then another “oof” as Miss P poked him again, this time shooting him a dirty look.
“Of course not.” I tried to frown, but I don’t think I managed it. Then I paused. Knowing full well you can cut off a dog’s tail, but you can’t sew it back on, I steadied myself. Well, in for a penny… “I’m his daughter,” I said, hurling myself off the cliff.
Stunned, they blinked at me. “Wow,” Jeremy said. “You’re like Vegas royalty.”
I deflated—that was the reaction I feared. “No, I’m the same Lucky I was two minutes ago.”
“Jeremy, why don’t you leave us alone?” Miss P asked.
“Righto.” He rose to go. “I’ve obviously buggered this to hell. I’ll just shove off.”
“Let me tell Dane, okay?” I asked him before he left.
When he turned those golden eyes my direction, I knew he saw right through me.
“Sure.”
Miss P waited until she heard the outer door close. “You’ve had an interesting couple of days,” she said. “Are you all right?”
“I’ll let you know when I figure out which side is right-side up.” I moved to stand in front of the window overlooking the lobby. The day appeared normal enough, but it felt all out of kilter. “The Big Boss’s bombshell doesn’t change anything except other people’s perceptions,” I said, trying to convince not only Miss P, but myself as well.
“Another hurdle for you. You’re no longer just a hotel executive—now you’re fodder for the gossip mill. People are going to treat you differently. Can you handle that?”
“I don’t see that I have any choice. Besides, it seems like a small price to pay to get a family in return.”
“You’ve always had both The Big Boss and Mona.”
“Mona’s pregnant.” I turned to look at Miss P. “That’s between you and me until they make a formal announcement.”
“I’m glad I’m sitting down.” Miss P said, sounding out of breath. “Instant family! So, tell me about Teddie.”
Unable to handle the sympathy I saw in my friend’s eyes, I turned back to my window. “He left. He wants to be a rock star.”
“Is he coming back?”
“He didn’t mention it.”
“If you want, I think I can add some perspective here,” my friend announced.
“Really?” I returned to my chair and gazed at her across the desk. “Perspective is in real short supply right now, so any you can offer would be appreciated.”
“I know about being a rock star, about the lure of the road, the intoxicating rush of performing in front of huge crowds.” Her eyes glazed over as she retreated into the past. Then, reality returning, they snapped to mine. “If you ever breathe a word of what I’m about to tell you, they will never find your body in the desert.”
“Scout’s honor,” I said, totally intrigued as I crossed my chest.
“Back in the 1970s, I used to be a Deadhead,” she said, sitting there, knees pressed together, perfectly coiffed and made-up, in her prim vintage Escada suit, sensible Ferragamos, and decorated with enough gold to buy a VW minivan. “For a couple of years, a friend and I followed the Grateful Dead around the country. We got to know some of the band members fairly well.”
“You slept with Jerry Garcia?” I couldn’t keep the awe out of my voice.
“I will neither confirm nor deny.” She primly pecked at a piece of lint on her skirt. “However, I can say, I got close enough to understand that traveling, performing, the adulation of the crowd…”
“And the young groupies,” I added, and was rewarded with a blush.
“Yes, that too, I suspect,” she allowed. “All of it is like a drug, stronger than any pharmaceutical you can imagine. The performers become so addicted, they can’t quit.”
“Hence the Rolling Stones still touring in their sixties,” I said, personally appalled by the fact. I’d rather remember Mick Jagger as Jumpin’ Jack Flash
. “You think Teddie is succumbing to the addiction?”
“Why else would he leave?”
I could think of a reason: I wasn’t enough to hold him. But I didn’t say it—I didn’t want to hear the words, to acknowledge the truth…or to have it confirmed. “A groupie addiction? Do they have a Betty Ford Clinic for that?”
“He’ll have to realize what he’s lost.” She reached across the desk and squeezed my hand.
“Pretty heady stuff, I suspect. Awful hard to compete with that,” I said. “Please tell me you drove a VW van with flower stickers and sold tie-dyed shirts to get by while chasing the Dead.”
“Of course, that was part of the whole adventure. I still have some of the shirts, if you’d like one.”
“Totally!” I leaned back in my chair as I looked at my friend with new respect. “Who would’ve suspected the rebel lurking in the Iowa farm girl? Of course, the whole cougar thing is a bit of a giveaway. Speaking of which, have you told your boy toy you’ll be fifty on Friday?”
“I’m looking for some courage,” she sighed.
“You and me both.”
***
Hunger gnawed for my attention as I headed toward Neb’s to grab a bite—I couldn’t remember my last solid meal. The headache growing into a thumper behind my right eye reminded me of all the liquid meals I’d consumed—a bad sign.
As I walked, I dialed Flash. “Hungry?” I asked when she answered.
“Stupid question. When and where?”
“Are you mobile?”
“Not a pretty sight, but still able to heed the siren call of food.”
“Great. Neb’s. Now.” I was glad to hear Flash was on her feet but I wasn’t surprised—I’d never found anything able to keep her flat on her back… other than a handsome, willing male of the species.
“See you in ten.”
As I repocketed my phone, I was comforted by the whole Morse code, girlfriend-speak, thing. Without me saying so, Flash had understood the message—I needed her.
Friends are like family, but better in a way—they chose to be in my life. And as I grew older, I realized their importance increased dramatically. Men came and went, some staying longer than others, some saying they love you then leaving, but good friends are for life.
***
Junior Arbogast called to me from across the casino. “Hey, I’ve been looking for you,” he said, as he puffed to a stop in front of me. “I’m sorry it’s taken me so long, but Bart Griffin proved to be more elusive than I thought. Apparently he’s getting the Air Force’s attention.”
“Really? Why? Has he stuck a toe across the perimeter?”
“No, he said the base had gone on elevated security. And, no,” he said, anticipating my question. “He didn’t say why.”
“Probably has something to do with the article in the R-J.” I pursed my lips as my thoughts raced. Flash was making waves. What else was new? “Will he talk to me?”
“Tomorrow night. The Little A’ Le’ Inn. Ten o-clock?”
“Perfect. Thanks. Will you be there?”
“I’ll make the introductions.”
***
Seated across from Flash, her face an interesting rainbow of colors, my anger seethed. I would find who was responsible. And they would pay.
Staring at my friend, I took a few moments to stuff the rage way down deep. Finally, with a tenuous control, my stomach full, my headache on the run, I reached for some of that elusive courage. “I’ve got a story I want you to break this afternoon, but first I need your help.”
“Cool.” Flash pushed aside her plate, giving me her full attention.
“I’ve got a few more names we need background info on. Strictly bit players, I have a feeling, but I’m grasping for connections.”
“Who?” Flash reached to pull back her plate, but then thought better of it.
“Mr. Mortimer, the head of the Magic Ring, and Bart Griffin.”
“The talk show guy?”
“Yeah. I’d like to know if they have any connections to Area 51, the Air Force, Dimitri… you get the drift.”
“Got it.” Flash pulled a pencil from her bra and made a few notes. “Man, the whole city has gone ga-ga over this mystery—my bosses are clamoring for any little tidbit. I’m assuming anything I come up with, I can use?”
“Don’t see why not.” Sometimes I asked Flash to sit on a story for a bit, but I didn’t think this would be that kind of story, although, why I thought that was a bit of a mystery—especially in light of the beating she had taken… because of me.
Her pencil poised, she waited.
“You be careful, okay. I can’t handle anything more happening to you because of me.”
“I’m the one who put myself in the line of fire.” She squeezed my hand. “It’s what I do. You know that.”
“Just the same.”
“I’ll be careful.”
I took a deep breath. “Okay, now for my little tale. Recently, I was made aware of my father’s identity.”
Flash’s eyes widened, but she said nothing.
I laid the whole Big-Boss-is-my-father thing on her.
“For real?” she said with awe in her voice, when I’d finished my little spiel. “He confirms?”
“He’s the one who told me, but I expect you’ll want to talk to him yourself. Have Miss P call him—he’ll see you.”
“Imagine. All these years I’ve been coming to the hotels to see you and I had no idea I was playing in your castle.”
“They’re not my castles.”
“I’m kidding,” Flash said as she immediately sobered. “Look, I can tell you’re worried, but this doesn’t change anything. Well, not between you and me, at least. Your life is about to get a bit more complicated, but as far as you and me go, we’re totally cool.” She shook her head. “Dane’s going to find this pretty interesting, though.”
“Why would he care?” I asked, working to keep my voice nonchalant. “I thought you two were together.”
“Us? Honey, we’re like water and oil. I tried to get him interested, but I’m just not his type. You, however, are right up his alley. Have you seen the way he looks at you?”
“He doesn’t look at me any differently.”
“Girlfriend, if you think that, you haven’t been paying attention.” Flash rose to go. “Thanks for the grits. I’m off to wangle a good quote out of The Big Boss. But I’m telling you, if Teddie wasn’t in the picture, Dane would be all over you like fleas on a farm dog.”
“Teddie’s history.”
That stopped her. She slowly sank back down in her chair. “You want to talk about it?”
“No, but thanks.”
She reached across and gripped my arm. “I’m always here if you need me.”
Like I said, friends…
***
Of all the people I felt I needed to tell in person, I’d saved Dane for last. I don’t know why I felt that I needed to give it to him in person. But, Flash was right, there was something between him and me—I just didn’t know what. Or what I wanted it to be—not that I had much choice—it would be what it would be, that much I had learned from Teddie.
I dialed Dane’s number, then paused before I hit the “send” button. Taking a deep breath, wanting this to be over with, I completed the call. Dane answered on the first ring—we agreed to meet at The Garden Bar.
For some reason I was nervous as I waited for him. Standing at the bar, I positioned myself so I could watch him as he strolled out of the hotel and across the rope bridge toward me. Long and lean, oozing masculinity, the light glinting off his wavy hair which he wore a trifle long, a smile creasing the planes of his face when he saw me—he did make my heart beat faster—no need to deny that now.
“Hey,” he said, as he stopped in front of me. His word was warm, but his manner, reserved. “What do you need?”
“Kiss me.”
“What?” Shock registered in his face.
“You mentioned the other night
, when you said good-bye in my apartment, that you wondered what it would be like. Well, me too. And I don’t want to wonder anymore.”
“What will Ted say?” Dane asked, his face closing down.
“Nothing. He’s history.”
“I see.” He stepped close. Wrapping one arm around my waist, he pulled me against him.
I could feel every inch of him, the heat… a warmth spreading from his body through mine.
“There’s only one first kiss,” he said as he brushed his fingers across my lips.
My breath caught in my throat when he gently kissed first one eye, then the other, as his hand slipped behind my head. His breath warm on my cheek. His nearness intoxicating.
Then his lips found mine. His kiss was gentle at first, then deeper, more demanding, as his hand fisted in my hair and my body molded itself to his.
We both were breathing hard when he pulled back, his face a few inches from mine, my body still stretched the length of him. His eyes, dark and deep, held mine.
“Wow,” was all I could manage to say as I tried to catch my breath and slow my heart before it leapt into my throat.
A grin lifted the corner of his mouth. “As first kisses go, I’d have to say that was pretty incredible.” His voice was hoarse with emotion.
“Okay,” I said, taking another one of those deep breaths. “Here’s the deal.”
“There’s a deal?” He gave me a sardonic grin, but still held me tight.
“Not like you think. I have something to tell you, then I want you to kiss me again. Will you do that?”
“Is that a trick question?”
“You may not want to after what I have to tell you. Would you have a problem if I told you The Big Boss is my father?” I waited for realization to register on his face, then said, “Now, kiss me again.”
He captured my lips with his. This time, the reaction was immediate, visceral, like an explosion somewhere deep inside. When I found the strength, I pulled back. “Any different?”
“Still mind-blowing.” He put both of his arms around my waist, and leaned back. “Lucky, I’m not interested in your pedigree. Who sired you doesn’t amount to a hill of beans and it doesn’t change who you are. It’s you I’m attracted to.”
So Damn Lucky (Lucky O'Toole Vegas Adventure Book 3) Page 21
