"That's a sucker bet and you know it, Sallie. All you have to do is look at Fanny Logan and you know what you see is what you get. She reminds me a lot of you. I'd like her to stay because she has my office running so efficientiy I could whisk you away to Sallie and Devin's house of happiness in Arizona, right now, this very minute. Let's do it! It's the weekend."
"I thought you said you had to work this weekend."
"The hell with work. I want to make love to you all night long."
"In that case, let me change my clothes. I'll meet you in the game parlor. When was the last time we made love, Devin?" she whispered.
"Last night. I'll be waiting."
Salhe walked back to her office. "Zack, I'm going to be leaxdng shordy. I won't be back till Monday. I want you to do something for me. I'm going to change and work the room a litde before I leave. I'll steer two young women to the thousand-dollar slots. W^en you see me hand each of them a silver dollar I want you to rig both slots to pay off". Go out on the floor now and put them off"-limits until I can get there. We both know I run an honest house, but just this once, I want to . . ."
"I understand, Miss Sallie. We'll never talk about it again."
"Exacdy."
"What do you think the odds are of two thousand-dollar slots hitting at the same time?"
"We'll know tomorrow when every club owner in town tries to figure it out," Sallie laughed.
'*You're one of a kind, Mrs. Thornton."
"I'm going to take that as a compliment"
Out on the floor, Fanny and Bess walked around, stopping from time to time to watch the outcome of a particular bet. To Fanny, it seemed like mountains of money changed hands. She also noticed that the frenzied-looking gamblers she'd seen in the Boulder and Pioneer Clubs weren't present at the Silver Dollar. It wasn't that the patrons of the Silver Dollar weren't gambling, they were just going about it differently—nonchalantly.
"This is really ritzy, isn't it, Fanny?"
"It sure is. Which do you prefer, Bess?"
'*Well, I felt more comfortable last week. I sort of feel like I don't belong here."
"I don't feel that way. My money is the same color as that money on the table. There isn't one person in this room that's better than me. As good as, but not better. I learned that in my eighth grade catechism class. Sister Ann Msirie was explaining to us why we had to wear uniforms. It was so we wouldn't be in competition over clothing. We were all equal."
"I think you're a dreamer, Fanny. The reality is these people are hoity-toity and we're the working class."
**What's wrong with the working class?"
'^Nothing, if that's what you want to be all your life. I want more. I want it all. I might even get it someday, too."
"I might even be the first female president of the United States someday too," Fanny laughed.
"I'll vote for you, Fanny."
"So will I," Sallie Thornton said, a smile on her face. "I hope you two young ladies are enjoying yourselves."
"Very much," Fanny said. "Thank you for the ringside table and the champagne. I really enjoyed your singing; you have a lovely voice, Mrs. Thornton."
"Thank you. Miss Logan. I'm leaving in a few minutes but I like to give all my guests, at one time or another, a silver dollar. It makes me feel good," Sallie said, steering the girls toward the thousand-doUai slot machines. "I hope you'll come back again. I have to warn you, no one has ever won the thousand dollars since we put the machines in."
Fsinny noticed Devin Rollins out of the comer of one eye. When she looked to her right she saw the group of aviators advancing, the
190 Fern Michaels
light of battle in their eyes. She reached out to accept the silver dollar. Bess did the same thing.
"Do it on the count of three," one of the aviators shouted.
"Okay," Bess shouted back.
"One! Two! Three!"
Fanny and Bess pulled the levers at the same time. When the three clusters of cherries appeared on both machines within seconds of each other, the two aviators in the front grabbed the girls and kissed them soundly as the silver coins rivered from the machines onto the Tennessee marble floor.
"Stop that!" Fanny said firmly.
Fanny didn't know how she knew, but she knew that Sallie Thornton had arranged for the machines to pay off. She looked at Bess, who was still kissing the aviator, at Devin Rollins, who was smiling from ear to ear. Sallie winked at her for the second time in as many days. "Enjoy yourselves, ladies, and come again."
Every eye in the casino was on SaUie Thornton when she walked out the front door, Devin Rollins following her.
The floor manager appeared with a metal tray of money. "The machines only pay out three hundred silver dollars. You can turn it in for paper money or keep the coins." Fanny opted for the bills, as did Bess.
"My God in heaven, Fanny, we won two thousand dollars! What are you going to do with yours?"
"Put it in the bank. What are you going to do with yours?"
"Save some and spend the rest. Fanny, don't leave. Stay here and work full-time for Mr. Rollins,
"I'm ready to go home, Fanny," she said when Fanny didn't answer. "I want to sit on my bed and stare at my money. I can't wait to see the newspaper tomorrow."
"Why?" Fanny said, climbing into the car.
"Didn't you see the flashbulbs? They took our picture! Oh, God, that means my parents are going to see it. And my boyfriend. I'm in for it now. Oh, God, Fanny, what if those aviators are in the pictures. They were kissing us. If my boyfriend sees that, it's all over. What should I do?"
"Go home to bed. In the morning tell your parents the truth. Tell them you were showing me the town. Tell them Mrs. Thornton treated us to the supper show. Tell your boyfriend the aviators were congratulating you. It's more or less the truth. You can't go wrong when you tell the truth."
"See, you always come up with the right answers. Fanny, please stay on."
"I can't, Bess. Well, thanks for the ride. Let me know how things go. Call me tomorrow or stop by."
The following day, the war that Fanny had ignored because she thought it didn't involve her slipped around her like a shroud when she called her father to tell him she was still in Lcis Vegas and to report her thousand-dollar windfall.
"Daddy, please tell me that's a joke. Why would they up and enlist?"
"Because it's their patriotic duty. People in town were starting to talk. It wasn't just Daniel and Brad that joined up. All the young guys, even the steelworkers with deferments, did it. The mill is hiring women now. Mrs. Kelly got hired yesterday."
"I'm coming home. I'll pack my things and get a ticket this afternoon. I can leave tomorrow. No, no, I can't leave tomorrow, I'll have to wait till Monday."
"Fanny, listen to me. I don't want you to come home. I don't want you worrying about me either. It might even be nice to have the house to myself after all this time. If you want to do something, buy some war bonds, donate some time to the war effort."
"Daddy, are you sure you don't want me to come home? I can go to California some other time. If I come home, I could get a job in the steel mills too, like Mrs. Kelly. I want to do my part. Daddy, are you sure?"
"I'm sure, Fanny. As soon as I hear from your brothers, FU call you. Don't worry about them, they can take care of themselves. Remember, they were both leaders in their Wilderness Training group."
The chuckle in her father's voice reassured Fanny. On her way back to the boardinghouse she stopped at a newsstand to pick up the morning edition of the Nevada Sentinel.
A cup of coffee in hand, the paper spread out in front of her, Fanny settled herself to read up on the war now that her brothers had enlisted. She felt shame and guilt that she knew so littie about what was going on in the world. The overlarge headline of the day read; ALLIES LAND IN SICILY, CAPTURE PALERMO. When she finished the article she read the two-colunm war update.
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MacArthur launches Allied of against Allied att
ack, Eighth
fensive in Pacific, Japanese and American Army enters Palermo.
American navies clash near American planes bomb Trondheim
Bougainville Island, Hitler con - base in Norway. vinces Mussolini to continue fight
Fanny read every printed word, not once, but twice. She turned the page and read another huge black headline; USE IT UP, WEAR IT OUT, MAKE IT DO, OR DO WITHOUT! Fanny read the article, a deep frovm setding on her forehead.
Virtually all consumable goods have a second life, as tin and other metals, paper and nylon are recycled. Kitchen fat is processed for explosives. Rubber, found in inaccessible Asia, is one of the scarcest of commodities. Some municipalities try to ward off rubber thieves by having car owners record the serial numbers of their tires. With gas rationed and a 35mph speed limit in effect, no one takes the car out of the garage much anymore.
Everywhere there is delay. The trains, loaded with enlisted men or hauling war material, are late leaving and late arriving. Lines snake out of grocery stores, restaurants, and bars because there are too few employees waiting on customers.
Yet because manpower—and womanpower—are so much in demand, workers find themselves almost pampered. Factories have introduced coffee breaks, and piped music, fringe benefits, and awards for fine performance. Unfortunately, the sense of delay pervades the workplace; President Roosevelt ordered a freeze on all wages, prices, and salaries, and the mandatory 48-hour week at the war plants is exhausting, coffee breaks or no. There is nothing like just going home at the end of a day, sitting in front of the radio (factories aren't making new ones for civilians anymore), and gulping a small watered-down botde of beer—not sacrificing a drop.
Additional war updates left Fanny feeling queasy. Now she understood something else about Sallie Thornton and the files she'd read in Devin Rollins's office: Not only was Mrs. Thornton supplying food to the various casinos, she was also supplying chick-
ens, beef, and vegetables to the government war effort. The R & R Ranch as well as the B & B Ranch in Reno were the government's top contributors, along with a man named Seth Coleman from Austin, Texas. The only difference between Sallie Thornton and Seth Coleman, according to the Sentinel, was Sallie Thornton donated her food to the war effort, whereas Seth Coleman charged for his.
Fanny folded up the newspaper and left it on the front porch in case one of the other guests wanted to read. She walked upstairs to her room for her change purse. The long, empty day loomed ahead of her. She might as well make use of her time by making more phone calls. If her efforts were unproductive, Monday morning she would take the money from the safe deposit box and buy war bonds. She would also tell Mr. Rollins she would accept a full-time position. Staying here in Las Vegas for six months or a year wouldn't alter her plans that drastically.
At the newsstand phone booth, Fanny kept the operator busy for two hours as she placed one call after the other, all with negative responses. No one, it seemed, knew of anyone who looked like Jake or knew a man named Jake. Her steps were lighter, her shoulders straighter, as she walked back to the boardinghouse. She'd done everything humanly possible to locate Jake. There was nothing more she could do.
With more hours to fill, Fanny checked with her landlady and got permission to work in her Victory Garden. As she weeded row after row of vegetables, her thoughts were in Shamrock when she used to squabble with her two brothers as they, too, took turns weeding the garden during the summer months. Life, she realized, was going to go on, no matter what she did.
The plane landed neatly, the pilot giving a thumbs-up salute to Lieutenant Ashford Thornton.
"Thanks for the ride," Ash said, saluting smartly.
"Give 'em hell. Lieutenant. Heard you're one meatball away from being an ace. Congratulations!"
"Just one more. I'll get it, too."
Ash was aware of the looks and open stares as he walked across the field, his duffel slung over his good shoulder. The conquering hero returns. He wanted to laugh, but if he did, his shoulder wound might open up. He was home for five days of R & R. It was a beau-
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tiful Saturday afternoon, thousands and thousands of miles away from the war ned been fighting for the past nine months. He could go home now and take a long hot shower that lasted an hour if he wanted to. He could sleep around theclock if he wanted to. He could chow down on food he'd only dreamed about these past months. He could go to town and pick up a passel of women and have an orgy. He could do any goddamn thing he wanted to do for the next five days.
Right now, though, he didn't want to do any of those things. What he wanted to do was barrel into the house and shout his parents' names. He wanted to pick up his mother and swing her high in the air, wanted to grab his father and squeeze him until he yelled for mercy. He wanted to tell them about his four Zeros, of seeing and hearing Simon in the air. He'd downplay the wound he received the day he was forced to drop out of formation and was hit by a wild strafing onslaught- He couldn't wait to tell them what a hell of a pilot his brother was.
Ash hitched a ride into town with a mechanic who dropped him off at his front door. He pulled his duffel from the back of the pickup truck and kicked it up the walkway rather than carry it.
Ash thrust open the front door, bellowing at the top of his lungs. Tulee waddled in from the kitchen, her face fearful. "Where's Mom and Pop, Tulee?"
"Not know, Mr. Ash. You papa not come much anymore. You mama not here, pack bag and leave house last night. Maybe not come back next week."
Ash's shoulders drooped. "Did she go to Sunrise?"
"No Sunrise. Not know. You papa only come visit, not many times."
"Jesus. Okay, okay, I'll find them."
Ash called Sunrise. He felt shaken when Chue told him he didn't know where his parents were. He was more shaken when he found out Chue was married and had a baby son.
"Doesn't anyone in this goddamn family know where anyone else is? What the hell kind of family is this anyway?" he raged. Tulee waddled back to the kitchen as Ash stomped his way up the steps. Now what was he supposed to do? He yanked at the phone near his bed and asked the o})erator to c<^nnect him to Devin Rollins's office, where he was told Mr. Rollins was out ol'town. Ash swore again as he asked the operator to connect him to the Silver Dollar. He identified himself, asked to speak to Zack, and was told only that his
mother had gone away for the weekend. "She does that, says she's going for the weekend and then stays for a week. I'm sorry, Ash, but I don't know where she went. She calls in sometimes. I'll tell her you're home if she does."
"Don't bother, Zack. I don't suppose you know where my father is, or do you?"
"No, Ash, I don't. I rarely see him. I'm sorry, I wish I could help you."
Ash flopped back on his bed, drifting into sleep, up through the clouds to the clear, blue sky, the sound of his squadron all about him. He was flying a Corsair, the most powerful plane in the air, in his opinion. The twin-row engines developed by Pratt and Whitney had so much turning force a plane could almost twist wing over wing if a pilot made a bad landing.
His squadron was searching for a Japanese submarine, forced to look at the sapphire blue water and brilliant blue sky at the same time. Tonight he was going to have one hell of a headache.
"Enemy at two o'clock."
The squadron separated into combat pairs and flew into the formation of the Zeros. Ash heard a burst of tracers as they flashed by him like lightning streaks. He went into a dive and stood on the throttle. He was on the football field again, weaving back and forth the way he'd done during the last game of the season, all to ruin the enemy's aim. "Zero on your tail. Ash. Move it, move it, I got him," Conrad, who in his dream was his second wingman, shouted. Ash veered sharply and headed north, circled, and then roared up to the plane's top speed of 395 mph. He dived down, his fmger flicking the cover off his firing button, .50mm fire thudded into the plane heading straight for Conrad at three o'clock. He circled around to see what damage h
e'd done. A row of slugs in the aft part of the fuselage. He swore, the plane was still intact. He let go with another burst, the slugs hitting the thin armor protecting the engine. His fist shot upward as the Zero turned into a black cloud of smoke.
"I can't do this anymore. I don't want to do this again."
The voice shook him to his very toes. "Move your ass, Ash, you're a sitting duck. Go into a roll, swing out, and veer right. I'll take him for you."
"Simon, I don't want to die. I can't do this anymore."
"I sure as hell don't want to die over some goddamn ocean. Get your ass in gear and get back into formation."
"This is my goddamn dream, Simon, get the hell out of it."
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"You're whining, Ash. I'm dropping down now. Do it your way. I'll tell Pop you went out in a blaze of glory."
"You son of a bitch! You can't leave me up here to die!"
"Watch me!" Simon laughed.
Ash fought with the co-erlet on the bed, his body bathed in sweat. His shoulder ached and burned unbearably as he svaing his legs over the side of the bed. He gingerly removed his uniform and headed for the shower.
"I hate your fucking guts, Simon." He felt like crying again because he knew in his heart he didn't hate his brother. That day late last year when he'd met up Math Simon in the air was one of his greatest moments. Maybe someday they could sit down with a beer and talk about it.
Maybe.
Fanny looked at her watch. One more minute and the bank would open. She felt jittery and out of sorts. When one of the bank officers unlocked the door, Fanny was the first customer. She exited the bank ten minutes later, the packet of money secure in her purse. She headed straight to the office, where she found the door locked. Now what was she supposed to do? Go to the drugstore and have a second breakfast of course. Maybe Mr. Rollins was running a litde behind schedule or perhaps he was in court.
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