Wanna Get Lucky?

by Deborah Coonts

  “And if—and that’s a big if—you solve the case, I’ll find out about it by reading the morning newspaper. So, tell me, why am I supposed to be happy to see you?”

  Deflated, he sank back into the deep chair. “Well, when you put it that way . . .”

  “I’ll tell you what, Romeo. I like you. I really do. What do you say we work together to solve this thing? I think, between the two of us, we could do it.”

  He perked right up. “You think so?”

  Like taking candy from a baby. “I know so.”

  At my beckoning, he leaned in closer.

  “I’ve got something I need you to do,” I told him.

  THE chaos in the lobby had ratcheted up at least three notches by the time I had sent Romeo on his way, then hit the stairwell door and added my body to the teeming mass of humanity. I pushed my way through, then stepped back into an alcove near the front doors, flipped open my cell and hit the number two key.

  Teddie answered on the first ring. “Yo.”

  “If you’re not awake, you should be.”

  “Hello to you, Miss Sunshine. I’ll have you know I’m up, dressed and actually heading out the door to come find you. What’s up?”

  A scrum of intoxicated males invaded my alcove, laughing and high-fiving each other. They seemed unaware of my existence as I pressed back against the wall.

  “I’ve got a mission for you,” I shouted.

  “A what? Speak up. You sound like you’re in a riot. Where are you and what am I missing?”

  I cupped my hand around my mouth and the phone, which was pressed tightly to my lips. “I’m in the lobby. If you get here quick, you’ll be in time to greet the Hollywood crowd.”

  “They’re worth the price of admission. I’ll hurry.”

  “Great, but I want you to think about something, and it’s a secret.”

  His voice took on a conspiratorial timbre. “What did you have in mind?”

  AT the stroke of three, a bus pulled up out front, whipping the crowd to a fevered pitch. Caught in a rip current of humanity, I elbowed and shoved, but couldn’t make any headway from my alcove near the front door toward the bus.

  “Here, let me.” Paxton Dane appeared at my side. He grabbed my elbow and eased me forward. “This is one of my strengths, remember?”

  He didn’t say a word and magically the sea of people parted.

  “Where’d you learn how to do that?”

  “Chivalry school.”

  “So, chivalry isn’t dead?”

  “Not in Texas, and most certainly not in my mother’s house.” Dane stepped over the rope holding the crowd back and deposited me curbside at the unopened door of the bus.

  “Your mother sounds like my kind of woman.”

  “She’d like you, too. You two are more alike than you could imagine.”

  I’m not sure if that was a good thing or not. I guess it depended on how Dane felt about his mother. And how I felt about Dane.

  I had no time to dwell on it as the door of the bus opened.

  A roar from the crowd greeted Subway Jones as he appeared on the top step.

  Everything about Subway was average—well, not everything. Everything about his appearance was average. Average height, average weight, brown hair, brown eyes, pasty white skin that still bore the ravages of a serious teenage acne problem. Not yet forty, he had the beginnings of a slight paunch. Dressed in a loud Hawaiian shirt, khakis and sandals, he looked like an insurance salesman from Duluth.

  He did an exaggerated bump and grind, and I thought several of the girls at the front of the crowd were in danger of fainting.

  “Who’s that?” Dane shouted into my ear.

  “Subway Jones.”

  The look on Dane’s face was truly a Kodak moment.

  I grabbed his shirt and pulled him down so I could shout into his ear. “Being a porn star is like being a writer—only one talent is needed and nobody cares what you look like.”

  Dane’s mouth, which had been hanging open, snapped shut, and he swallowed hard.

  The boy was clearly in over his head.

  Subway’s eyes zeroed in on me, and I braced myself.

  He launched himself down the steps. “Lucky!” He grabbed me and, to the roar of the crowd, planted a big kiss on my lips as he dipped me over his bended knee. After a few moments milking the crowd, he righted me. “How the hell are ya?”

  “Never better.”

  He held me at arm’s length. “Woman, you look fabulous.”

  “Liar.” I motioned toward Dane who was standing next to me like a dumbstruck child. “Subway, I’d like you to meet Paxton Dane, one of our new Security guys.”

  The men shook hands, but Subway barely gave Dane a glance before turning his attention back to me. Subway had little time for men taller and more handsome than himself, which meant he spent most of his time in the company of women. He hooked his arm through mine. “Where’s Theodore?”

  “He’ll be here any minute.” Security held back the crowd as we made our way to the lobby. I felt Dane right behind me. “He had a late night last night.”

  “Theodore?” Dane asked.

  As if on cue, Teddie materialized in front of us.

  “Hands off my woman!”

  Subway dropped my arm and grabbed Teddie in a bear hug. “Theodore!”

  Beside me, Dane leaned in, his mouth close to my ear. “How could you let that man kiss you?”

  “Jealous?” His cologne was subtle, masculine, intoxicating. I tried holding my breath, but that was a short-term resistance method. I could do it only so long before fainting, so I quit.

  “Now that’s a loaded question. Sorta damned if I do, damned if I don’t kind of thing.” He reddened and ground to a halt.

  Amused, I crossed my arms and waited. I’d be damned if I was going to rescue him.

  Dane took a deep breath. “It’s just, well . . . you don’t know where his lips have been.”

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake!” I stopped for a moment. “If you think about it, Subway doesn’t do anything without a camera rolling, so everybody knows exactly where his lips have been.”

  “That’s precisely my point.” Dane spread his arms wide, hitting a tall redhead smack in the boobs. He retracted his arm as if he’d been burned. “Sorry.” He mumbled, his face flushed in embarrassment.

  She gave him a withering stare, then moved on.

  “If I’m to catch a dreaded disease it’ll have to be from someone else. Miranda would kill him if he put his lips anywhere she hadn’t fully vetted. He’s still walking and talking, so I feel pretty safe in assuming he’s been a good boy.”

  “Who’s Miranda?”

  “Subway’s wife.”

  “He has a wife?”

  “Well, more like a keeper than a wife.”

  We both watched Subway as he wiggled and squirmed for the women, then pinched one little blonde on the ass. She giggled then lifted her shirt, showing off perfect, surgically mounted, EEE cantaloupes. The crowd roared its approval.

  Dane shook his head. “If I pinched that girl on the ass, she’d break my nose.”

  “Nobody said life was fair. You’re beautiful, he’s . . . good—ap -parently.”

  Dane leaned down, looking me right in the eye, his voice low and seductive. “How do you know I’m not . . . good?”

  Miranda Jones, who had appeared at my side, answered the question, rescuing me from my own stupidity. “Cowboy, in our business, good means you have a twelve-inch dick, can get it up on demand in front of a crowd, and keep it up until we’ve finished doing whatever we want with it.”

  Dane straightened as if he’d been touched with a cattle prod. “Well . . .” He swallowed hard, then clamped his mouth shut.

  I didn’t blame him. I wouldn’t have known how to respond either.

  Miranda continued. “You have no idea how long it took me to find him—Subway, I mean. I auditioned probably over a thousand guys.” She put her hand on Dane’s arm. I thought I s
aw him flinch. “Do you know how I met the little creep? In the produce aisle at the Piggly Wiggly! Can you believe it?”

  Mute, we both shook our heads.

  I could only imagine how an audition for a porn film would go. I had never found the courage to ask her, so I was left with my imaginings. The mental images were impossible to chase away. It was a good thing I’d already had lunch. One look at Dane’s colorless face and I knew he was thinking the same thing.

  We stood there for a moment, then I snapped out of it. “Miranda.” I gave her a hug. “So good to see you. You two really know how to liven things up.”

  “Honey, that’s our job.” I’d known Miranda since grade school, and she constantly surprised me with her many incarnations. Today, she was the personification of the predatory female. Tall, buff and well-lipoed, she sported jet black hair as straight and as coarse as a horse’s tail, and piercing gray eyes. She changed her hair color and her eye color as often as film stars changed spouses. Miranda had told me that contact lenses allowed her to fully coordinate. I was in awe. Each morning I found it next to impossible to find a dress and a pair of shoes that matched.

  Sporting a shiny black catsuit that adhered to her every curve, long hot pink nails, black stilettos, and makeup that looked like it had been applied by one of Cleopatra’s handmaidens, Miranda liked to think of herself as a Hollywood creation. In my mind, Burbank creation was more like it, but we all have our private little fantasies. She had been an adult star herself, until she realized the money was in producing the films, not performing in them.

  While Subway did it for the fun, Miranda did it for the money.

  She still had a grip on Dane’s arm. “Honey, who is this beef-cake?” She pinched his biceps and narrowed her eyes as if sizing up a stud horse at auction.

  Dane looked like he’d been stung by a scorpion. I half thought about leaving him to be feasted on, but then relented—good security guards are so hard to find.

  “Down, girl. I can assure you The Big Boss would take a dim view of one of our Security hunks moonlighting as one of your screwing machines.”

  “Pity.” She gave him a little slap on the ass as she looked him up and down. “You let me know if you ever want to change careers, cowboy.” Miranda let go of Dane’s arm

  Once released, Dane bolted toward the casino. He didn’t even say good-bye.

  We watched him go. “Miranda, you have got to stop terrorizing the help.”

  She looked at me, her eyes wide with innocence, then she burst out laughing.

  “And you can drop the Vampira act now,” I added. “Nobody’s looking at you. Subway’s got them all mesmerized.”

  “I know, but it’s so much fun.” She twirled in front of me. “What do you think of the outfit? Is it too much?”

  “All you’re missing are the whips and chains.”

  She giggled then hooked her arm through mine. “I know. Subway loves it. At home, I put this on and—”

  I held up my hand. “Whoa. Stop. Too much information, dear. And I shock easily.”

  “You always were the Goody Two-shoes.”

  “And look how far it’s gotten me.”

  “Yes, but you look a bit ragged around the edges.” This time my friend looked me right in the eye, her smile fading a bit. “Not getting any, are you?”

  I gave her a dirty look.

  “What?” she asked, trying to look innocent, which was about as impossible as Angelina Jolie trying to look virginal. “I know, none of my business. But, are you having any fun?”

  “Life’s just shits and giggles.”

  “Bullshit,” Teddie announced as he appeared at my elbow and threw his arm around my shoulder. “Miranda, you talk to our girl here, she’s losing her smile.”

  Miranda nodded, her forehead scrunched in concentration. “I can see that.”

  I shrugged out from under Teddie’s arm. “Enough out of you two. I’ve got a casino full of people to keep happy. A weasel to locate. Two large parties to coordinate. The Big Boss is riding my ass. And the police are snooping around spooking the guests.”

  “Well, look who’s gone and gotten all grown-up,” Miranda huffed as she grabbed Teddie’s hand. “Come with me, Peter Pan. Leave old Wendy here to wallow in her worries. I happen to know where the bar is, and I’m in desperate need of some liquid fortification. We’ll put it on Wendy’s tab.” She pulled him with her as she disappeared into the crowd. Neither one of them looked back.

  Great, I’d just been told off by a woman who screwed for a living and a guy who looked better in my clothes than I did. I thought I’d hit rock bottom when my Nextel vibrated to life.

  “Lucky?” Miss Patterson’s voice sounded a bit strained.

  “Right here. Whatcha got?”

  “Remember Mr. Ballantine?”

  “Ballantine?” I thought for a second, then the light dawned. “The cockroach man?”

  “Yes.”

  “Don’t tell me he’s back.”

  “He’s back all right.” She paused. “And this time he has a snake.”

  Chapter

  SEVEN

  I found Dane licking his wounds in the casino. He didn’t look happy.

  “You know anything about snakes?” I asked. “You mean other than what I just learned from your friend, Miranda, back there?” He hooked a thumb over his shoulder. “Are you sure she doesn’t crawl on her belly and live under a rock?”

  “Well, I don’t know about living under a rock, but one time she decided to live in a mud hut on the beach next to the Santa Monica pier. Something about showing the world the plight of some obscure tribe of cannibals in the Amazon.”

  “She would like cannibals. I bet she’s still chewing on the hunk she took out of my ass.” Dane threw a quick look over his shoulder toward the lobby. “I hope she chokes on it.”

  “You’re a big boy. I’m sure you’ll find a way to get even.” And I wanted ringside seats. I grabbed his hand and tugged him with me as I headed for the elevators. “Right now we have a more pressing problem. What do you know about real, slither-through-the-grass snakes?”

  We skidded to a stop in front of the elevators. I punched the up button. Reluctantly I let go of Dane’s hand.

  “What kind of snake?”

  “How the heck should I know?” The elevator hadn’t come so I punched the button again, then again and again.

  “Punching the button a zillion times won’t make it come faster,” he said.

  “Maybe not, but it makes me feel better. I’d take the stairs but we’re going all the way to the top.” I turned and looked at him. “You haven’t answered my question. What do you know about snakes? I can do rodents, but I’m not well versed in reptiles.”

  “We had an annual rattlesnake roundup back in my hometown. I participated a couple of times until a buddy of mine got bit and damned near lost a leg. Does that help?”

  “It’s better than nothing.” The elevator door finally opened, and I dodged the people trying to get off as I pulled Dane inside. I inserted my card in the slot and punched the button for the penthouse floor.

  “So where’s the snake?” Dane asked after the doors had closed and we’d started skyward.

  “In Mr. Ballantine’s suite.”

  “Ballantine? You sound like you know this guy.”

  “Oh yeah.” I crossed my arms and leaned against the side of the elevator. Just thinking about Mr. Ballantine set my blood to boil. “Our first meeting concerned cockroaches. Now it’s a snake. He’s moving up the food chain.”

  Dane chuckled. “You gotta tell me about the cockroach.”

  “Cockroaches, plural. Hundreds of them.”

  “I think I’m going to like this story.”

  “Are you familiar with the hotel rating system?” At Dane’s affirmative nod, I continued. “Like all top hotels, the Babylon jealously guards its rating. We opened at the top of the heap, and we intend to stay there.” The elevator slowed its ascent, then dinged its arrival at the fift
y-second floor. “Some of our guests try to blackmail us by doing things that might threaten the rating.”

  “Blackmail? How?”

  We stepped out of the elevator and turned right, heading for the King David suite. “They stage some unpleasantness, then threaten to report it to the rating services unless we pay for their room and whatever.”

  “Hence the cockroaches.”

  “Five-star hotels are not infested with bugs.”

  “But they could be,” Dane said. “How did you know it wasn’t legit?”

  “The bugs were technically water bugs, indigenous to the coastal states. They couldn’t survive in the desert. They were brought in and planted in that room. I could have wrung Mr. Ballantine’s neck, but I stifled myself. This time, he may not be so lucky.”

  “So we’re on our way to a potential homicide?”

  “Don’t encourage me,” I said as we rounded the last corner. “He’s one of the few people I’d like to meet on the edge of a cliff with no witnesses.”

  “Remind me not to get on your bad side.”

  Three big, tough-looking Security guys were standing outside Mr. Ballantine’s suite peering in through the doorway when Dane and I arrived.

  “It’s got Denny,” one of them said when he caught sight of us.

  Dane and I pushed past the guards. What we saw stopped us in our tracks.

  “Holy shit,” Dane mumbled.

  In the middle of a beautiful, hand-knotted, silk Persian carpet writhed one of our Security guards, presumably Denny.

  Wrapped around his middle was the largest snake I had ever seen.

  The thing looked to be every inch of twenty feet, although it was hard to tell. It had already circled Denny’s waist twice and was going for a third coil.

  “Get this thing off of me!” Denny grunted. “I can’t breathe!” He looked a little blue.

  I grabbed the nearest guard and pointed to his gun. “Give me that thing.”

  Wordlessly he handed it over.

  “Dane, grab the snake’s head and hold it still,” I ordered as I chambered a round and made sure the safety was on. “Everybody back.”

  Dane dropped to one knee and grabbed the reptile’s head. Muscles bulging, he wrestled with the thing as it writhed. Twice he lost his footing. “Damn. This thing even has teeth.”