by S. J. Smith
“What do you propose?” he asked in a passable west coast accent.
“Well, first off I wanted to ask why you risked everything dropping that little coin into my tip box? For that matter why get all drunk and violent. None of this would be happening if you had just kept your cool. Fortunately for you, I have been working in Vegas for a while and I know the things that go on here, outside of the advertising slogans. So it was not hard to discover that this stupid coin is the problem. Especially with all of the exhibits going on this week and you ransacking my apartment. Not to mention stealing my cash savings. Do you know how long it took for me to save that up?” she asked with real anger in her voice. The anger helped her growing fear. They all looked confused.
“We did not go to your apartment, other than to check it out. It was clear you would not be going there once you left that morning. Unfortunately, we could not get there in time to ah… have a talk about that piece there. You have been staying with that rich man, what is his name, Brock Wainright?” he asked pretending he did not know who he was.
“I did, they were very cool, helping me with you three and then showing me a nice time. They said they did not know you either. However, as I said, I have been in Vegas long enough to know not to trust anyone. I figured to deal with you straight across instead of asking for their help,” she told them calmly.
Inside she was freaking out. If they did not search her apartment, who did? She assumed there were plenty of thieves in town willing to do it, if they knew about the French coin. She wished she could blow off the Tortelli brothers denial but found she couldn’t. She believed they were confused about it. That meant there was someone else operating, an unknown piece in the game, as Jack called it. Laura spent a brief moment panicking in her head, and then just decided to take care of this and worry about the unknown later. Not that she had much choice.
“Well if you didn’t do it, I guess I can’t demand my money back. I will settle for never seeing you again and you can have that stupid thing. I am not even sure why it is so important and I don’t want to know. So we have to find a way I can give you this and we all walk away. We need to do it fast though,” she said. At this point she was stalling. Reinforcements should have shown up by now. She suddenly had a new reason to be worried.
“You say you want us to disappear after you give us that. We can give you our word, that we have never broken, but you have no reason to trust us. What would you like from us as proof? It will be difficult to get testimonials on such short notice.” He smiled and she laughed a little.
He had a point, she thought. She sighed. They were getting as nervous looking as she was feeling. She had to get it done and out, somehow.
“Ok I guess I will have to trust you. I don’t have much…” Laura was interrupted by the door behind her opening. She started to turn, thinking she knew who it was and froze. Jason walked in and closed the door behind him.
“Now the proper negotiations can begin,” he said with a smile. He was wearing a leather jacket and jeans, street clothes. His jacket opened and they saw a gun.
“What the hell!” she said at the same time the Tortellis did.
“That’s right boys. I am going to take that little coin and you are going to jail. As for you Laura, sorry about your apartment but it had to be done,” he said. She felt herself trembling. Anger and fear were warring within her.
“You trashed my apartment?” she asked.
“And gave you the French coin. I figured it was the best way to get it out of the casino without being seen. The money was a nice consolation since the prize was not there,” he said glancing down at the coin on the chips. She heard the brothers rustling behind her and Jason put a hand on the gun.
“Easy boys. I have already put out the word that I am the one selling that piece so you are out of the game. I am going to take it and show you a way out of the hotel so you won’t get caught,” he told them as if confirming a favor.
“We will come after you,” Mark told him with a growl in his voice.
“No you won’t, I know all the cops. It would be best if you put this whole thing behind you and go away,” he told them humorously.
Even she knew that would never work. From everything she had learned there was no way they would let it go. It was a matter of pride. Considering he was the reason for her problems, she too felt obliged to see him go down.
“What about me? Do you really think I am just going to let you walk away and screw me like this? If for no other reason than you robbed me. I can’t believe you robbed me!” When she repeated it her anger became stronger than her fear and she stood up. Jason frowned and backed off a step. She leaned against the table with the chips right behind her.
“Back off Laura. You can just walk away and all of this will be a memory. You don’t want to try anything stupid over eight hundred dollars,” Jason told her. She turned and looked at the Tortelli brothers. All she could think of was to stall.
“Can you believe this idiot? Why aren’t you doing something?” she asked. Hoping to get an argument going. Mark opened his mouth to speak when she heard the distinctive click of a gun behind her.
“Enough is enough Laura. The cameras are off for this room and I can do whatever I want. It is a bonus of being a part of security,” she heard him say.
She turned back to him and he was pointing the gun somewhere between her and the Tortellis as if he was not sure who to shoot first, and the gun had a silencer on it. She felt a chill, realizing he was going to shoot them all! Her fear returned in full force and she cursed herself for coming to Vegas.
“Well you wanted excitement,” she muttered out loud to herself.
“Don’t worry Laura, it ends here!” he said just as the door behind him burst open hitting him in the back.
Jason stumbled forward and Laura turned away towards the table as his gun went off. She heard someone scream as she fell over the table when Jason fell into her. The table collapsed under them both. He rolled off of her and she rolled the other way in a panic. She heard shouting and cursing as many people seemed to swarm into the room. She saw Mr. Lander, Detective Avery as well as four more security personnel.
Then she saw Jack come in. He saw her and came over helping her up. He took her hand and she had to unclench the fist she had made to grasp his hand. She trembled in Jack’s arms as Detective Avery arrested the three Tortelli brothers. Harry was the one who got shot and the medics had been standing by. Jason was cursing and claiming to have discovered a plot. Mark, James and Harry were yelling about him pulling a gun on them. Jack quietly led her out of the room’s other door to where Brock was waiting. Once out of the room she felt her fear slowly begin leaving her and took several deep breaths to calm herself.
“Are you okay Laura? Damn I did not expect things to go sideways like that. I am so sorry to get you into this girl. I do not even know what to say,” he said.
She could see the strain and worry in every line of his face, and Jack’s as well, and that was all she needed to see.
“I am alright. You were cutting it a little close, but everything is fine. Right Jack?” she asked him.
He gave a shaky smile and held up his closed hand.
“We got it,” he said.
Laura was relieved she had managed to palm the coin as she fell across the table. Brock shook his hand as if thanking him and then turned and walked down the hall. A minute later Detective Avery found them and wanted to go over what happened.
*****
Epilogue
Laura smiled at her reflection in the little mirror. She did look good in fine clothes, she thought to herself happily. Leather and silk were wonderful things. She left the little airplane bathroom and went out to take her seat. Jack poured her a drink and they toasted.
“Nice job darling. I have never met anyone who, on a first job, would have remembered to grab the coin when a gun was pulled on them. With the scattering of the chips there was no way to tell where it went,” he praised her.
>
The word on the street was that the Tortellis had made a deal with Jason and it had gone wrong. Between them the coin had been lost. Her name was not even coming up. From what they had learned, the Tortelli’s organization thought Jason had screwed them, so again, Laura’s name was clear. Detective Avery got the bust of a lifetime and the gratitude of Mr. Lander, so everyone was happy. She felt the humming of the engines change pitch and put on her seatbelt like the others were doing. She had never flown before and her first time was going to be on a private jet.
“I am surprised everything went so well,” she admitted.
“We got lucky. Once the job was in motion we could not get a hold of you to tell you what we learned. The detective told us that the reports on the break in at your place showed that witnesses claimed it was done by one man, one American man. The Tortellis do everything together so it wasn’t them. After that I remembered you saying that Jason gave you your tip box. I wasn’t sure how he had anything to do with it, but knew he did. Once we got a hold of Mr. Landers he checked security and we found several cameras down and Jason gone. Bingo. He had probably heard about the auction and wanted in. Stupid of him, but then again, it is Vegas,” Brock said and sipped his drink as the plane started moving.
“So even if the Tortellis had not attracted attention to themselves by assaulting me, Jason would have tried something anyway. I was just at the wrong place, at the wrong time, or right time depending on how one looks at it,” Laura told them with a smile as the plane lifted off. She looked out the window loving the feeling in her stomach as they gained altitude quickly. These little planes really moved, she thought to herself.
“How do you look at it Laura dear?” Brock asked softly. She glanced at them and saw them both watching her closely, looking concerned. She smiled for them and looked back out the window. The view from that height was amazing she decided.
“Where are we headed again?” She asked.
“Paris, France,” Jack answered.
“Then I think I was in the right place at the right time,” she told them happily. Whatever happened, she knew her life would never be boring.
THE END
Bonus Story 11 of 40
The Dragon’s Babies
Her favorite part of the day was the bit just before she opens her eyes as she gently falls from slumber and back into wakefulness. It was then that Clara could appreciate the peaceful symphony that surrounded her day in and day out on the little farm she shared with her partner, Estelle.
The goats were bleating out in the barn, stirring and ready to begin their day lazily chewing grass in the pasture. Somewhere further away was the chirping of birds that melded nicely with the chimes being clanged by the easy summer breeze. A breeze that found its way through Clara’s open bedroom window to kiss at her exposed skin, enticing her out of bed to start her morning routine. Rolling over, Clara pulled her thick quilt up to her chin in protest.
Every morning Clara reached out to touch Estelle, wishing to know someone else was there to enjoy the early morning peace. Every morning, though, Clara found an empty space where her girlfriend had been the night before. Clara was not surprised of course. After five years living on the farm, the reach for Estelle had become muscle memory more than anything. Clara could remember a time very early on when Estelle would be there, though. How a still sleeping Estelle would respond to her touch by pulling Clara closer and giving her a reassuring squeeze.
As it was now, Clara was sure Estelle was already in her office on the phone with the east coast publishing office she did edits for. Their farm’s business, Gibson Creek Wares, had been so prosperous in the last two years that Estelle’s editing job was quickly becoming the hobby that earned extra money and took up way too much time. People loved their goat’s milk soaps, fresh salsa preservatives, and hand spun wool among other “organically produced, artistically made” products in their extensive online store.
To her credit, Estelle had met the change with support and enthusiasm. She hadn’t missed a step in balancing her mounting list of things to do with Gibson Creek Wares and maintaining her editing work load. Clara wouldn’t mind if she missed a couple of steps if it meant she would be there to hold her in the mornings when everything was simple.
On her bed side table, Clara’s phone started to buzz indicating it was time to rise and greet the day. Under her bony, pale feet the hard wood floors were shockingly cool. A shiver ran up Clara’s spine and she opened the ancient wooden trunk at the foot of their bed to pull out a knitted blanket to wrap herself in. The instant rise in her body temperature combined with the gorgeous way the sun hit the small flower garden outside her bedroom window made Clara pause. She tried to have at least one moment like this every day. A small moment when she could celebrate being alive.
Inhaling deeply one more time, Clara imagined herself putting on her work cap for the day as she stepped towards the bedroom door.
***
“Todd, I understand where you’re coming from, I do,” Estelle had no idea where Todd was coming from, really. She figured Todd’s head was so far up his rear end that even he wasn’t sure whether he was coming or going. Why he offered a publishing deal to the Jack Kerouac wanna be who authored the manuscript in front of her was utterly baffling.
“Red Horse isn’t that diverse in the books we’ve published, but wouldn’t you want that diversity to start with something at least readable?”
“But, Estelle, American Steam isn’t meant to be readable – it’s experimental. Don’t you see the vision we’re going for here?”
Estelle rolled her eyes at Todd’s words.
“Okay, look, Todd,” Estelle flipped to the front page of manuscript to read the author’s name. “Is Jeremy Diggs someone’s nephew or something? Because I don’t see vision here. I see swill. Over thought, ridiculous swill that reads like a meth induced psychosis. We could do better. That’s my honest opinion.”
As she spoke, Clara came to her side with their routine morning coffee in hand. Estelle looked up and raised her right pointer and middle fingers to her head as if she was about to blow her brains out. Clara chuckled softly, taking Estelle’s fingers from her temple and giving them a kiss before planting another one on her freckled forehead.
On the phone, Todd was silent for a moment. Estelle knew she was his least favorite editor at the up and coming publishing house, but luckily for her, she was also his best. Giving Clara’s hand a quick squeeze before turning away, Estelle leaned back in her seat. This was a waiting game and the first to speak would lose serious ground. It wasn’t going to be her.
“Jeremy,” the defeat was palpable in Todd’s voice, “is the son of a very prominent investor. It would be nice to get his attention. Perhaps he could help Red Horse progress to the artistic standards you seem to have set for us.”
“Mmhmm, well…how about I attempt another read through on this, give it some notes, and you guys don’t even have to pay me for it.”
“What’s the condition,” Todd sighed. This game was played at least once a quarter.
“You finally give me the go-ahead on that YA novel I’ve been pushing.”
“Estelle…”
“I know, we’re not a children’s publishing house, but this story needs to be told, Todd,” the passion Estelle felt swell in her chest caused her to stand. “The writing is solid. LBGT kids need more normalizing fiction that isn’t in a separate section of the store than everything else they read.”
Clara had taken a seat on the floor, cross legged, coffee in hand. “Get it, babe,” she whispered, shaking her fist in support. Estelle grinned and winked.
“Okay, okay,” Todd was just ready for the ordeal to be over. “We need a release for next Fall. Sell American Steam and we’ll get in touch with the YA author. Deal?”
“Deal – you’re not going to regret this, Todd.”
“I hope not, Estelle. Just get American Steam ready.”
They hung up and Clara gave a loud, “Woohoo,” fr
om the floor.
“I love it when you get all worked up over literature,” she said standing and turning her head to come in for a kiss. Estelle could tell by the way Clara’s hands found their way to rest on her hips and her lips parted just slightly that Clara was rather worked up herself. Estelle smiled and deepened the kiss, holding Clara’s face in her hands with a gentle firmness. It was when Clara began walking her back to be pinned against the wall and she brushed by the Gibson Creek accounts filing cabinet that she remembered.
“Wait,” Estelle said, breaking the kiss and looking earnestly into Clara’s curious eyes. “We need to have a Gibson Creek talk really quick.”
“Are you serious right now?” Clara smirked through her exasperation. “Estelle Creek, mistress of romance.”
“Ha. Ha,” Estelle untangled herself from Clara’s embrace and sat back at the computer. “No, this is important. I don’t want to forget.” She pulled up the spreadsheet that she used to keep track of overall customer satisfaction. Clara leaned over her to get a look.
“Do you see the problem,” Estelle asked.
“Yeah, I’m looking at a freakishly organized spreadsheet instead of making out with my girlfriend.”
“Seriously, Clara. Look here,” Estelle pointed to January’s column. “At the beginning of the year we were at nine point five in positive feedback. And now,” she shifted her finger over to June. “We’re at eight point nine.”
“Okay?”
“Hon, we’ve kept a consistent nine point seven to nine point four since we’ve been open. Aren’t you a little concerned that we’ve dropped so much in six months?”
“No. Not really. I think we’re doing fine. We just have more customers, so it’s an adjustment period, right?”
“Well, that’s the thing. What if we hired someone else? I ran the numbers last night and again this morning,” Estelle swiveled in her office chair to grab a file on her desk. Opening it, she let Clara see all of the colored graphs and equations that Clara guessed were supposed to tell her hiring an extra hand was a fantastic idea.
