“I’m glad one of us is conversant.” Having a youngster on the staff was paying unexpected dividends. “And what’s your take on his demands?”
“He’s blowing smoke up my ass.”
“Where is he now?”
“He’s taken his prima donna act up to Babel, where he’s, and I quote, ‘Waiting for the Customer Relations bitch to get off her ass and solve this problem.’” Brandy leaned back as if there was truth to the old adage about shooting the messenger.
“I see. I’m assuming he has recovered from his bender the other day?” I pushed to my feet and girded myself for battle.
“He appears to be sober and none the worse for wear, although, with him, it’s hard to tell.”
I stepped around the desk and headed for the door. “Let’s go handle the cocky Mr. Spin Monkey Red, shall we?”
Teddie nudged Brandy as they fell in step behind me. “I just love it when she gets her back up like this. Sexy as hell.”
“Really,” Brandy said. “I guess that shows how much I have to learn about men.”
Maybe she’d listened after all—scary thought. The blind leading the blind.
* * *
IN Vegas, most nightclubs don’t open until 10:30 p.m. and the crowd doesn’t arrive until midnight. Babel was no exception—a fact I was glad for if I was going to have to face down a minor celebrity who’d been reading too much of his own press. As if dating heiresses and compiling playlists anointed him king! Each day the world made less and less sense. Either I was getting old or losing my mind.
Under the twinkling lights strung overhead, Mr. Spin Monkey Red paced back and forth across the Lucite-covered aquarium. Short and stocky, he wore a white muscle shirt with a larger flannel one tied around his neck. Bedecked in chains, his jeans clung resolutely to his hips, defying gravity and most of the other rules of physics. Tattoos chased down both arms from shoulder to wrist. His wiry black hair cut short, his lips thick, his chin recessed, he wasn’t even attractive. A tiny fedora perched on the top of his head, reminding me of Charlie Chaplin or one of the Three Stooges—not the look I’d bet he was hoping for.
Staring down at the marine life swimming leisurely below him, the DJ didn’t notice me until I stepped in front of him, bringing his pacing to an abrupt halt. He looked up at me through tiny dark eyes set too close together.
“Who’re you? This place is closed.” he growled, as he stepped around me.
“I’m the Customer Relations bitch.”
As he turned around, he threw a dirty look toward Brandy, who had taken refuge on a stool at the bar next to Teddie.
She smiled.
“I didn’t mean that literally. I was just doing the big-shot thing—it’s expected, you know.” His voice was high-pitched, childish in its whine. He was the very personification of ‘the less you have, the more you pretend.’
“No, I didn’t know.” I easily had six inches on him. I stepped in closer, so he had to look up to see my face. “I understand you have some concerns about the equipment?”
Citing decibels and ohms and other terms I didn’t have even a passing familiarity with, he started in on all the deficiencies. Pretending to be interested, I let him rant. He’d worked himself into quite a lather by the time I’d had enough—and had seen through his little charade.
I held up my hand, stopping him mid-tirade. “You faxed us your requirements when you accepted this engagement. Our technicians adhered strictly to your every request. The setup has been thoroughly tested and has been in play for the last week. The best local DJs have all thrown several sets. No one has complained.”
His face flushed crimson. “You’re not going to throw out this trash?” He gestured toward the stage. “You’re not going to get me the stuff I deserve?” His voice cracked.
I leaned down, my mouth next to his ear. “This setup is more than you deserve. We have done as you asked. I expect you to do the same.”
“I don’t need this shit.” He backed away from me.
Kids, they missed the point even when it stared them in the face—especially when they were scared. And under all that swagger and bluster, this kid looked terrified. I couldn’t blame him—the Big Boss had made sure the grand opening of Babel was going to be the biggest extravaganza the Strip had ever seen. The thought sorta made me queasy as well, impossible to control, these events had a way of taking on a life of their own. If this one got out of hand and headed in the wrong direction, I’d be left holding the bag.
When I was sure I had his attention, I gave him my spiel. “Since Bugsy Siegel opened the Flamingo on a wing and a prayer, Vegas has been the center of the entertainment universe. The best in the business have begged to play Vegas. A gig here can make a career.” I gestured toward the buildings of the Strip, bright beacons in the night. “This place is pure magic. The Hollywood crowd flocks here to be seen. Sinatra came here to revive a sagging career and became a legend in the process. So, yes you do need this shit, as you so eloquently put it. You need Vegas.”
He hitched up his pants as he chewed on his lip. I could see his inner conflict—the truth versus his fear.
“The funny thing is, Vegas doesn’t need you.”
“So what are you saying?” Cocking his head to the side, he squinted one eye at me.
Unattractive, untalented, and dim... the ultimate American pop culture creation.
“You can walk. I could care. I’ll get a replacement and sue your ass for breach of contract. Your call.”
“That simple, huh?”
“That simple.” I stared him down.
Finally, he shrugged. “Okay. You win. I’ll do it, but I won’t be happy.”
“No, you’ll do it, and you’ll be happy.”
Finally a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “You’re one tough bitch, man.”
At least he managed to get one point without me beating him over the head with it.
I stood at the edge of the roof, drinking in the view. Like Mesmer’s mirror, the lights of the Strip held me in their spell—they always had. Under all the glitz and glamour, under the explicit in-your-face attitude, under the make-it-or-break-it mentality, Vegas celebrated people in all their weird and wonderful uniqueness. The city not only tolerated individuality, it threw a party to it each and every day. No judgments were passed, no looks of disdain thrown. All of us—misfits from all walks of life—were not only tolerated, we were appreciated.
That was the magic of Vegas.
I felt Teddie’s presence at my side. Hooking my arm through his, I rested my head on his shoulder.
“It’s our town,” he murmured against my hair. “We fit here.”
I knew he understood. Two peas in a pod.
With all the craziness whirling around me, with my mother and the Big Boss heading for a rough patch, with Tortilla Padilla putting his life on the line tomorrow night for the kids, with a murderer still wandering loose and a DA trying to frame Jeremy, with Jordan and his upcoming train wreck... with all of that, I still couldn’t imagine life could get any better than it was right at this moment in time, with Teddie by my side and Vegas at my feet.
So, if life was so perfect, why did I get the feeling the proverbial axe was about to lop off my head? Probably nothing more than the dark side of my Pollyanna personality, but something was niggling for my attention, I just couldn’t put my finger on it.
“Everything smoothed over with your song-and-dance man?” Teddie asked.
My negative thoughts dissipated like a cloud under assault from the midday sun. “For now, but he’s scared to death. He understands this is going to be a big stage and the world will be watching.” I worked my hand into Teddies as I led him away from the edge and back toward the dance floor. “I need you to do me a favor.”
“Name it.” He looped an arm around my waist, twirled me around, then gathered me to him.
With his body pressed to mine, it took all of my self-control to keep my mind... and my hands... from wandering. “The cr
owd tomorrow night will be a bit older than our DJ is used to, so the music will need to be adjusted accordingly. You’re a music man, could you saunter over there and casually offer to help. The kid is at sea.”
“You got it.” He nuzzled my neck then gave me a parting kiss, jangling every nerve.
Still seated at the bar, Brandy had been watching the goings-on with a bemused expression, an expression she still wore.
Straddling the stool next to hers, I motioned to the bartender who was busy wiping down a glass at the far end of the bar. “Two Kir Royales, please.”
“Even though I couldn’t hear what you said to him, from the looks of things I’d say you got our boy lined out,” Brandy said, once I got myself settled.
“Sometimes the biggest bullies are the most scared, so I threatened him to keep him on the job—which I doubt he would have walked away from anyway. Then I sent Teddie to help with the music and to calm frayed nerves, nerves our DJ never would have let you see.”
“So I wasn’t one to fix the problem?” Brandy took the fluted glasses from the bartender, then handed one to me.
“No. You’ll get a feel for this as you go. Sometimes a problem needs a brawny guy from Security, sometimes it needs the delicate smile of a young, beautiful woman, sometimes it needs Miss P’s motherly touch, and sometimes it needs the Customer Relations bitch.” I clinked my glass to hers. “To teamwork.”
“To teamwork,” she replied, then we both took a drink, savoring the black raspberry and champagne bubbles. “It doesn’t make you mad that he called you a bitch?”
“He can anoint me the personification of Lucifer himself as long as he does his job.”
Teddie and our DJ had their heads together as Teddie pointed and punched keys. Every now and then he would nudge the kid in the ribs and they would nod and smile. The magic was working.
My phone vibrated in my pocket. Glancing at the number before I flipped it open, I smiled. “Jordan! Where are you?”
Brandy’s eyes grew wide when she realized who I was talking to, then she glanced between me and Teddie, her brow creased into a frown. I tried to ignore her.
“I was going to ask you the same thing. I’ve been worried sick all day.” Jordan’s voice resonated with concern. “What happened with you and Teddie? Per your instructions, Rudy and I deposited him at the recording studio at the Palms at two this afternoon and that’s the last I’ve heard.”
“Everything’s great. We’re in Babel. Teddie’s working through the dance sets with the DJ, Brandy and I are floating on champagne bubbles. Want to join us?”
“Rudy and I are in the lobby. We’ll be right there.”
“I’ll have Security release the elevator—the club isn’t open yet.”
After I called Security, I flipped my phone shut and stuffed it back in my pocket.
Brandy was scrutinizing me, her face a mask. “Jordan Marsh and Teddie, here? Together? That doesn’t seem very wise.”
I sipped my champagne and leaned back against the bar. “Child, you should never believe everything you hear.”
* * *
LIKE fireworks shot into the night sky, Jordan and Rudy burst from the elevator, the force of their personalities igniting the air around them.
Catching sight of me, Jordan headed toward us with Rudy two steps behind.
“Holy cow,” Brandy muttered under her breath.
“They take your breath away, don’t they?”
“They are the hottest, most gorgeous... well, I’m finding it hard to resist ripping my clothes off right here and now.”
“My mother used to tell me not to do anything in public that I wouldn’t want to read about on the front page of the morning paper,” I remarked. “That might be an appropriate thought to cling to at a time like this.”
I set my drink on the bar, then stood and braced myself for Jordan’s greeting. He didn’t disappoint.
Bending me backward over a knee, he kissed me long and fervently. “You look happy,” he whispered, before he set me back on my feet.
“Who wouldn’t be with that kind of greeting from Jordan Marsh,” Brandy opined, the raw jealousy in her voice only casually concealed.
“Jordan, this is my assistant, Brandy Alexander. She’s a bit star-struck at the moment.”
With a wink to me, Jordan swooped and captured Brandy, giving her the same treatment he’d given me. When he set her back upright, I didn’t have much confidence she would stay that way. As she swooned a bit, I pushed her back down on her stool.
Never one to miss an opportunity, Teddie stepped in. “Where’s the line? Am I next, Jordan?”
“Hell, the last time I saw you, you were puking into a toilet,” he shot back. “I don’t want to kiss you. I’ll leave that to Lucky; she’s less discerning than I am.”
“Apparently,” I agreed.
Everybody laughed as the music started.
Teddie pulled my hand. “Come on. Dance with me.”
He led me to the dance floor and folded me into his arms. Relaxing against him, I knew what it felt like to finally make it home after a long, tough journey. A lifetime spent in Teddie’s arms would never be enough.
A pounding beat with a danceable melody, the music swirled around us as Teddie spun me around the floor. Jordan and Brandy joined in while Rudy waited his turn. At the next song, we traded partners—Teddie with Brandy, me with Rudy, and Jordan at the bar, sipping a drink at the bar that Rudy had ordered for him.
The music slowed and Rudy pulled me closer.
“Are you doing okay?” I asked.
“Much better, thanks to you. I don’t know how you do it, but you manage to say just the right thing.”
“Sheer dumb luck, but I’m happy for you,” I said, and I meant it.
He pushed me away, twirling me under his arm, then he pulled me back.
“Thanks for taking care of Teddie last night.”
“He’s a good guy, Lucky. The best. And he loves you so bad he doesn’t know how to handle it.”
“I know the feeling.” I watched Teddie dancing with Brandy—just the sight of him warmed my heart. He caught me looking and gave me a big grin.
“Go with your heart, even when it scares the hell out of you.” Rudy’s eyes, an intense deep blue, caught and held mine. I saw truth in them.
The music changed, and it was time to switch partners, again.
This time I waltzed into Jordan’s arms. He looked happier, more at peace, than I’d ever seen him.
“You look like you won the Powerball,” I said as he held me tight, swaying slowly despite the beat of the music.
“Rudy’s my soul mate. You’re the best friend a guy could ever hope for. I got money in the bank and an interesting job. I have everything life has to offer.”
“Even better than the Powerball.” I pressed my cheek to his.
“How about you? Is Theodore the one?”
“How do you know who’s the one? I’ve never been able to figure that out.”
The music thumped a danceable beat, but Jordan still held me close, swaying to his own rhythm. “You don’t recognize your soul mate with your head, Lucky. You recognize him with your heart.”
Ignoring the beat of the music, I matched my rhythm to Jordan’s, letting him lead me in a dance only he heard. “There’s something special about Teddie, something I can’t describe. Just the thought of him makes my heart soar. And when he touches me... it’s mind-blowing. Even when I’m furious with him, I don’t want to be with anybody else. I know he’s fighting with himself about going on tour with Reza Pashiri. He thinks I want him to stay.”
“Don’t you?’’
“For me, yes. But not for him. I want him to chase his dreams—I’d feel terrible if he gave them up for me.” Just saying the words scared the hell out of me, but I knew in my heart they were true. I leaned back so I could look Jordan in the eyes. “What would you call that?”
“Love with a capital L.” With a finger, he gently pushed a strand of hair
out of my eye. “This is sort of a stupid analogy, but treat each other like a cherished kite—hang tightly to the string. Reel each other in when the weather turns bad, but let each other fly.”
“What a soft heart you have, Mr. Marsh. Too bad you’re gay.”
He threw back his head and laughed.
Once again the music changed and I found myself back in
Teddie’s arms, exactly where I had started. This time the music settled into a slow, sensuous rhythm. I closed my eyes trying to memorize every moment as Teddie held me tightly, swaying to the music.
Very softly, in his rich tenor, he began to sing—words of love and hope and a life filled with promise. A beautiful song, heartfelt and romantic.
Too soon the music ended. Unwilling to move from his arms, I kept my head on his shoulder. “What a fabulous song.”
“It’s called ‘Lucky for Me.’” He stepped back, forcing me to look into his eyes. “I wrote it for you.” Then his mouth captured mine, and my heart melted.
Our friends gathered around and began clapping and whistling until finally Teddie let me up for air.
Then we finished off the evening with a rousing rendition of “YMCA” by the Village People, complete with the physical effects, as the doors to Babel opened, admitting the public to our little corner of paradise.
* * *
JORDAN and Rudy decided to stay at Babel, Jordan playing movie star, with Rudy admiring from the sidelines. Wishing fervently I could stay with them, I instead heeded the call of the real world. Brandy and Teddie left with me. When the doors of the elevator opened at the casino level, we almost staggered back as the noise pummeled us.
Fight weekend had arrived.
People of all shapes and sizes occupied every available spot at a table or machine. If music played in the background, the party drowned it out. Excited chatter, punctuated by the occasional shout, filled the air. The machines, muted by the collective wisdom of “gaming experts,” whispered their come-on song—the upscaling of Vegas. I missed the clanking coins, the whirring slot reels, and the shouts of “wheel of fortune”—the last ubiquitous theme before the machines were silenced.
Lucky Stiff (Lucky O'Toole Vegas Adventure Book 2) Page 27
