Wanna Get Lucky?

by Deborah Coonts

  Sergio disappeared into the back.

  “Now,” Ms. Hetherington said as she picked up an article of clothing from the trunk. Holding it between two fingers, arm extended, she wrinkled her nose in disgust. “I need all of this cleaned, immediately. I’m standing in the only outfit I have that’s wearable, and it’s totally unacceptable for the party tonight.”

  “Fine.” I forced a smile. “We’ll be glad to take care of it. You should have your clothes in a couple of hours. The trunk may take a bit longer.”

  “What about the cats?”

  “This hotel has a policy against animals in the rooms. We will see the cats are taken care of during your stay—when we find them.”

  “What do you mean I can’t have my cats? Do you know who my husband is?”

  “A very lucky man, I am sure. But, still, no pets.”

  She dismissed me with a sneer, and turned to Sergio, who had reappeared. “I want to speak to your supervisor—now!”

  Sergio gave me a glance then said, “I’m the front desk manager.”

  “Surely you answer to somebody?” Ms. Hetherington huffed.

  I half expected her to stamp her foot.

  “In matters like this, I would go to the head of customer relations.”

  “And that would be me,” I interjected. “Have you checked in?” She waggled her key in front of my face. “Helloooo . . .”

  I motioned one of the bellmen over. “This gentleman will escort you to your room. I can assure you, your cats will be well tended. We’ll deliver your clothes when they are ready.

  “I should think so,” she huffed. “Really, that’s the least you could do.”

  THE office door was locked when I got there.

  That was odd—Miss Patterson usually beat me.

  I checked my watch—9:15.

  Miraculously, I found my keys lurking on the bottom of my bag. Turning on the lights as I went, I walked through to my office and shrugged off my purse as I deposited myself on the couch.

  Scrolling through the list of contacts in my Nextel, I highlighted Miss Patterson’s cell number and pushed send.

  The Beautiful Jeremy Whitlock answered on the fifth ring. “Hello?”

  “Hey, Jeremy.” I struggled to keep the smile out of my voice. I didn’t even try to keep it off my face. “You wouldn’t happen to know where my fearless assistant is, would you?”

  “Oh, hey! She just left. She was running late—I guess she forgot her phone.”

  “Apparently.”

  “I’m totally glad I cracked into her. I thought she’d fob me off, for sure.”

  “Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” I asked hesitantly. To me, his statement sounded as if it bordered on too much information.

  “Bugger. I forget sometimes you people don’t talk right over here. I’m glad I asked her out. I thought she wouldn’t give me a chance.”

  “You had a good time, then?”

  “The best. Tell her I’ll lob in after a bit with her phone.”

  “Sure,” I said, not completely sure what it was I was supposed to tell her.

  Jeremy had just rung off, when I heard the outer door open.

  Miss Patterson appeared in my doorway. Her face red, her hair a bit mussed, she patted down her dress—the same little black number from yesterday. My Jimmy Choos sparkled on her feet. “I’m sorry I’m late.”

  “A bit overdressed for work, wouldn’t you say?” I bit back a smile.

  Her brows crinkled as she looked down at the dress and the shoes. “Well, I . . .”

  I held up my hand. “It’s okay. I just wish you’d called. I was worried.”

  “I tried. I’m sorry. I can’t seem to find my phone.”

  “Jeremy has it.”

  “Oh.”

  “I called. He said you’d just left.”

  “Oh.”

  “I would ask you whether you had a good time, but I’m pretty sure I know the answer already.”

  Gathering her dignity, Miss Patterson looked me in the eye. “Honey, I’m older than you. My time is running short.” With that, she retreated.

  I followed her into the outer office. Boy, get a makeover, release the cougar within.

  “I hoped you and Jeremy would make some hay, but I never thought you’d roll around in it—not on the first date.”

  “You’d do well to follow my lead.” She sat at her desk, unscrewed my earrings, then handed them to me. “You know what they say about women over thirty—they have a better chance of being hit by lightning than getting married.”

  I reinstalled my earrings. “It’s women over thirty-five, thank ou very much. I still have plenty of time.”

  “Fine. But you and Teddie—”

  I waggled my finger at her, cutting her off. “Oh no. This isn’t about me. Besides, I’m already late for breakfast with The Big Boss.”

  “Chicken.”

  Her words followed me out the door. I didn’t have an answer.

  How do you argue with the truth?

  “YOU’RE late,” The Big Boss announced. A plate of food already in front of him, he occupied a two-top against the window, in a closed section of Nebuchadnezzar’s.

  “Two minutes.” I flopped into the chair across from him. “Sorry. I had to take care of a lady with some cats. Miss Patterson was late—”

  “It’s not important.” The Big Boss forked in a bite of scrambled eggs and green chili. “You want some food?”

  “No, thanks. I had a late dinner.”

  He looked at me for a second, but didn’t ask the question I saw in his eyes. Thank God for small favors. I had too many questions and too few answers as it was.

  “Your tapes were interesting listening,” he said through another mouthful of egg. “Irv Gittings—I look forward to dealing with him in front of the board tomorrow.”

  That was probably the only thing keeping Ol’ Irv from an appointment with his maker. I doubted if he knew how lucky he was.

  “Did you have a chance to call your friend on the Gaming Control Board?” I asked.

  “Yeah. He said they were on top of the discrepancies at the Athena, but he couldn’t give me the details. Just confirming Gittings’s problems was more than he should have revealed, but he owed me.”

  “Ol’ Irv’s got more problems than a mongrel has fleas.”

  “Well put.” The Big Boss grinned, then pushed his plate away. He flipped his glasses down from their perch on top of his head, then grabbed some papers from his briefcase by his feet and began to spread them on the table.

  “Before we start in on our presentation to the board, I need to ask you a favor,” I said.

  “Fire away.”

  “I need to hire another assistant. I’m spending twenty hours here most days—Miss Patterson almost as many. I’m exhausted.” I blew at some hair tickling my eyes. “And I need a life.”

  The Big Boss looked at me over his cheaters, which rested on the end of his nose. “Does this have anything to do with your late dinner last night?”

  Did anything get by The Big Boss?

  “Yes. No.” I sighed. “I don’t know. That’s my problem. I’m too tired to think straight.”

  “I see.” A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “You don’t have to ask me for permission to hire an assistant. If you need one, hire one.”

  The Big Boss rooted through his stack of papers, extracted a page and pushed it across the table to me. “Now, about tomorrow, we need to get our story straight on Willie and Lyda Sue. Irv’s requested to address the board, so we’d better be able to counter his every move. . . .”

  THE cooks were clearing the breakfast items from the steam tables, replacing them with lunch when The Big Boss and I finally finished our meeting.

  Miss Patterson caught me on my Nextel as I was climbing the wide staircase to the lobby. “Lucky?”

  “Whatcha got?”

  “Miranda Jones wants to meet with you—something about going over the guest list for her table at th
e awards banquet.”

  “Right. Do you have the final workup from catering?”

  Miss Patterson gave me the rundown.

  “So nothing new?”

  “No. Miranda said she’d be at the pool, and you’d know where to find her.”

  THE hanging gardens of Babylon were one of the seven wonders of the ancient world. The Big Boss had spared no expense in re-creating them as our pool area. Vines and trailing flowering plants hung from every possible nook, cranny, crevice and ledge, creating a veritable cascade of greenery and blooms. A permanent staff of horticulturists tended to baskets and pots of riotous blooming plants.

  You could cut the humidity with a knife.

  Leave it to The Big Boss to create the only tropical climate zone in the desert.

  Water cascaded from ledges and rocks, burbled up through rock features then rushed into the three pools, all connected by a lazy river dotted with caves. Each pool was a distinct area, with its own rules. One pool for families, one for adults only, and one for VIP adults, where tops were optional.

  Even in my state of diminished IQ, I knew exactly where Miranda would hold court.

  Protected from prying eyes by the tall palms surrounding the VIP section, Miranda had arranged herself in all her glory on a chaise in the sun. Her body slick with oil, she wore only a tiny black thong and a look of disdain.

  I dragged a chair into a spot of shade near her. “You wanted to see me.”

  She put a hand to her eyes and squinted against the sun. “Yes, I need to go over the table for the awards ceremony.”

  No “Thank you.” No “Good to see you.” No “Sorry for summoning you like staff.” And she knew how much I hated discussing business with near-naked people.

  Her subtle put-down was a carefully designed maneuver in a game we’d been playing for as long as I could remember. Clawing and scratching, we both had fought like hell to escape the lives we were born to.

  We both had mothers who whored. After a long battle with life-altering substances, Miranda’s mom succumbed to her demons when Miranda was sixteen. In a way, I’d been lucky—Mona was a scrapper. If I’d learned anything from her it was how to fight—and how to fight dirty when necessary.

  Miranda had made her escape from Vegas—and I hadn’t, or so she thought. The ironic thing was, although Miranda lived in L.A. she hadn’t really escaped at all—the porn business was just a slightly different take on the prostitution trade. But that was a nuance apparently lost on her. Or maybe not—and that’s what this was all about.

  I shrugged out of my jacket then hung it over the arm of my chair. Settling back, my smile fixed, I began to rattle off the arrangements for her table. As I did so, I noticed a small mechanical device motoring our way.

  Small as a mouse, it crept along on a base of tiny rubber wheels. A glass eye continually scanned, rotating from side to side. When it turned in Miranda’s direction, all movement stopped.

  Oblivious, Miranda stretched like a cat after a long nap.

  As I finished my spiel, I looked around. Somebody had to be controlling the thing. On my second pass, I caught movement behind a palm tree to my right.

  Paxton Dane. He had a little box in his hand with a joystick jutting from the top and a shit-eating grin on his face. Payback time. I knew somehow he’d get even with Miranda for taking a bite out of his ass.

  Leaning back, I crossed my arms, kept my expression neutral, and watched as the show began.

  Miranda sat up. Facing me, she held a breast in each hand and proffered them for my inspection. “So, what do you think? I just got them redone. I think they look really nice.”

  Nice for prized watermelons at the state fair. “Lovely.” I kept my expression bland.

  “And the wax jobs they’re doing these days! They make it possible to wear a thong like this and not be tacky.”

  Clearly we had a different definition of tacky.

  She spread her legs and eyed the tiny triangle of cloth. “I have to have it done every three weeks.”

  “Sounds painful.”

  “Tell me about it.” Miranda rolled over, exposing both her cheeks. “And try keeping an aging ass dimple-free. They have this new machine. It sucks really hard on your skin. It’s supposed to give it tone while eliminating the toxins trapped in the fat.”

  While bringing one to tears.

  She wiggled her dimple-free booty around. “It works. You ought to try it.”

  “I have a low threshold for pain.” And at least a shred of dignity left. I couldn’t imagine lying there while some technician sucked on my butt.

  “Too bad.” On her stomach, propped up on her elbows, Miranda eyed me over her sunglasses. “Pain is a part of life.”

  I couldn’t tell whether she meant to be profound, or she had missed her own point. “When I get desperate, I’ll let you know.”

  She pushed her glasses back into place and flopped over on her back, her plastic boobs pointing toward the sky.

  “Are we done?” I asked.

  “Oh yeah.” She waved dismissively. “The arrangements sound fine.”

  I knew they would. “Oh, Miranda? You’ve just given those guys a great show—for free.”

  “What?” She sprang to a sitting position, one leg on either side of the chaise—her crotch pointed directly at the little peeping-tom device. “What guys? And I never give a show for free.”

  I pointed to the little mouse. “There’s always a first time.”

  The little device turned and sped away, but it wasn’t nearly fast enough. I grabbed my jacket, and bolted after the thing. Two strides and I had it.

  I waved the device at her. “Two can play your game, sweetheart.”

  She glared at me for a moment, then burst out laughing. “Okay, you win this round. Did you set the whole thing up?”

  “Of course not. We don’t do that to our guests here—I merely took advantage of the opportunity.”

  “Brilliant.” She reached for the device. “Let me see that. Maybe we could use this in our next production—sort of a Peeping Tom perspective. Wouldn’t that be a turn-on?”

  “You’re the expert,” I told her.

  “You’re coming to the opening gala tonight?” she asked.

  I’d forgotten. Even when the cat-pee lady mentioned a party, it hadn’t rung a bell. The trade show opened tonight to those in the business. “I’ll be late. I have dinner plans.”

  “Come when you can.”

  I left her talking into the little eye.

  MY phone rang as I pushed through the heavy doors to the lobby. I smiled at the number. “Hey.”

  “Where are you?” Teddie asked. “It’s lunchtime. Are you hungry?”

  Butterflies took flight at the sound of his voice. “Getting there.”

  “They let me into my theatre. Me and the boys are working through a new number. We ordered pizza. Want some?”

  “I’ve got to check on some cats, then I’m on my way.”

  “Cats?”

  “Don’t ask.”

  “Busy morning, then?”

  “Uh-huh. Finished off by a very informal meeting with Miranda at the VIP pool.”

  “I can only imagine. Who won that round?” Teddie laughed that wonderful, warm laugh that sent shivers of delight down my spine.

  “Miranda awarded the victory to me, but I think it was a draw.”

  “You two have the most interesting friendship.”

  “We have history, but I’m not sure it’s a friendship.”

  I heard someone in the background call to him.

  “I gotta go,” Teddie said. “We just ordered the pizza. It’ll be thirty minutes at least before it gets here.”

  “I’ll be there.”

  “If you hurry you can catch the run-through of our new number.”

  AS I strode through the lobby, I caught sight of a couple of Security guys crawling through the shrubbery. A few more patrolled the banks of the Euphrates.

  I stopped by the river and pu
shed-to-talk. “Security. What’s the status on the cats?”

  “We have two. Still looking for the third.” The low-timbred voice of Paxton Dane.

  As I started to answer, a little girl walked by me holding a small cat, its fur bearing distinct leopard spots. “Dane, which cats do you have?”

  “One with weird spots and another with long hair and blue eyes.”

  “I think I have a line on the third. I’ll get back to you.” I followed the little girl and stopped her before she reached the front desk. “Honey?” I squatted down so we were eye to eye. “That’s a really pretty cat.”

  “It was over by the ducks. I wanted to take it home, but my mom said it probably belongs to somebody.” She stroked the cat as she looked at me. “Do you think I can keep it?”

  I had half a mind to let her have it—the animal would be much better off with the little girl than with the horror who had packed it in a trunk. “We’ll see.”

  I knew better than to promise something I wasn’t sure I should deliver, but I’m a sucker for happy endings. “Where’s your mom?”

  “Right over there.” The girl nodded in the direction of a woman standing off to the side, watching us intently.

  “You wait here while I talk to your mom, okay?

  “Sure.”

  The girl’s mother smiled as I approached. “I try to let her handle people when I can—she’s never out of my sight. I don’t want her to be shy.”

  “I don’t think you have to worry about that. Do you all live here?”

  “Yes, in Green Valley,” she said, her eyes on her daughter. “When it gets too hot outside, I bring her here to see the ducks. We had a treat today with all the babies. And then she found the cat.”

  “How do you feel about taking a cat home with you?”

  Her eyes darted to me, then swiveled back to her daughter. “I’d love it, but are you sure it doesn’t belong to somebody?”

  I cast a discrete glance around the lobby—no cat-pee lady. “Cats wander in here from time to time. We take them to the shelter—we have no other choice.”

  “Then we’ll take that one with us.” She shook her head with a smile. “I don’t know whether I could get it away from my daughter anyway. You’ve made her day.”

  “You both have done wonders for mine.”