by Tricia Barr
Skylar rolled his glossy gray eyes. “I think what the girl is trying to say is that we’re not in Vegas at all.”
Vegas? Phoenyx and Lily exchanged a glance, sharing the understanding that two more strangers from yet another completely different state were lumped in with them, further proving that their being here together was planned, that they were hand-picked.
“Could you girls enlighten us as to where we are?” Skylar asked.
They both shook their heads.
“We don’t know,” Lily said.
“Or why we are here,” Phoenyx said. “We’ve been here for two days now without any explanation.”
“Two days?” Skylar asked pensively, trying to process this with some obvious difficulty. “You have no idea what these people want with you?”
The girls shook their heads again. Honestly, Phoenyx was even more confused now with their arrival. She contemplated some kind of serial killer or ritualistic sacrifice scenario, but there were men with them now—men who seemingly had nothing in common with them. Not to mention the fact that these men were from yet another state. What serial killer would go through such trouble? Actually, why would anyone, period, go through such trouble? What the hell was going on here?
“Well, now that we’re here, the party can start,” Sebastian hollered.
Skylar turned to him and slapped him hard across the face. “Will you snap out of it? I understand that the drugs they slipped us are making you more of a jackass than usual, but we are in some deep shit here. You need to get a grip!”
“You get a grip.” Sebastian snickered.
“Ugh,” Skylar sighed. Putting his palm against the side of Sebastian’s face, he said, “Take a nap.” Sebastian’s eyes closed and he crumpled against the wall, unconscious.
Phoenyx and Lily looked at him with stunned expressions.
“How did you do that?” Phoenyx asked.
“I’m somewhat of a hypnotist.” Skylar shrugged. “Just one in our bag of tricks. That’s actually what we do in Vegas and why my esteemed colleague assumed we were in Caesar’s Palace. Casinos don’t take lightly to cheaters.”
Phoenyx nodded, secretly admitting to herself that it was pretty cool. It explained why they were dressed in such nice suits.
“I assume that neither of you are cheaters?” Skylar asked.
They both shook their heads.
“Right,” he said. “My name is Skylar and Sleeping Beauty over here is Sebastian.”
“I’m Phoenyx.”
“I’m Lily.”
“So, I take it from your confusion at Sebastian’s mumbling that neither of you are from Las Vegas,” Skylar said.
“I’m from Illinois, although technically taken from California,” Phoenyx explained. “Lily is from Washington. Just to clarify, neither of us are any kind of wrong-doers; we are just college students.”
Skylar shook his head and pursed his lips. “This doesn’t make any sense. What would anyone want with a pair of con artists and a pair of college girls? The four of us don’t have anything in common? At least, not inherently.”
“Actually, I wonder…what’s your birth date?” Phoenyx asked, following a hunch.
Skylar raised a curious eyebrow. “June sixth, 1997.”
Phoenyx heard Lily gasp, but she continued. “And Sebastian’s?”
“Well, that’s the funny thing—we share the same birthday,” Skylar said. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“Lily and I were born on that day too,” Phoenyx said. “I don’t know what that means but it is something we all have in common.”
“How strange,” Skylar mused. His eyes narrowed in thought as he put his hand over his chin. “You said you’ve been here for two days. Have they hurt you?”
“No, not at all,” Lily said. “A man comes once a day with food and that’s it.”
He rubbed his chin, then winced and moved his hand to his forehead.
“Whatever they gave us is really doing a number on my head,” Skylar said. “I don’t mean to be rude but I have to get some sleep. I just can’t think like this. Maybe I’ll be able to make more sense of all this with a sober mind.”
“Sure,” Phoenyx said.
“Of course,” Lily said.
Skylar managed a courtesy smile and then curled up on his side on the floor.
“I am so much more confused now,” Phoenyx whispered to Lily.
“I am, too,” Lily whispered. “Honestly, I feel kinda comforted, too, with men here. This room doesn’t seem quite as empty anymore. Even though they are a cell away, I just feel safer knowing they are here.”
“Maybe,” Phoenyx said. “We should try to sleep too. We can all talk more about this in the morning.”
Lily nodded. They went back to their sleeping positions, although Phoenyx knew there was no way she’d be able to sleep after this. There was too much to ponder.
* * * *
Phoenyx heard rustling in the corner of the other cell and turned to her left. The handsome buffoon, Sebastian was stirring. Lily and Skylar were both still out. Phoenyx was glad that Lily was finally getting some real sleep. Maybe her dreams took her to a better place. Meanwhile Phoenyx sat against the wall in silence, trying not to think about anything at all. It was better that way, however boring.
Sebastian pulled himself up into a sitting position and looked around. He appeared to suddenly realize his environment and his eyes widened slightly. When he looked at Phoenyx and saw she was awake, she saw a glint of recognition in his eyes. So it wasn’t just her—he recognized her too. The look faded and he got up, gingerly tiptoed around his sleeping friend, and sat as close to the other side of the bars as he could, next to her.
“Hello, there,” he whispered, his accent still crisp despite his low decibel. His jackass smile was gone.
“How’s your head?” Phoenyx asked.
“Wonderful, actually, because I’ve always been curious about what it feels like to be rufied,” he said, for a minute flashing a perfect crooked smile. “Sorry, bad joke.”
Phoenyx snickered a laugh, more at his amazing ability to have a sense of humor at a time like this than at what he said.
“My head hurts so bad I can’t even hear myself whispering,” he said. “So, I hope I don’t sound as stupid as I feel.”
“Don’t worry about it; you set a pretty high bar for yourself earlier,” she teased.
He chuckled softly and his head dropped in humility. “Ouch. I really am sorry about that. I have a hard time taking anything too seriously. I’m ready to listen now if you’re willing to shine some light on our current predicament.”
“All right, let me fill you in,” Phoenyx said. “My name is Phoenyx; over there is Lily. Your friend already introduced you two. I am a college student from California, Lily is a college student from Washington, and you two are a couple of con artists from Nevada. We have no clue what any of us are doing here, and the only thing we all have in common is that we were all born on June sixth of 1997. That about covers it.”
He frowned bemusedly. “How weird. We all have the same birthday.” He thought for a moment. “Have either of you two girls ever been to Vegas, by any chance?”
“I haven’t and I seriously doubt Lily has,” she answered. “I really don’t think this has anything to do with a gambling debt or whatever trouble you two are in.”
“I guess that really should have been obvious when those thugs didn’t bloody us up before throwing us in here,” he said. “It’s not like casino owners to lock up cheaters. They just break a few of your bones and throw you out.”
“Well, since you’re being so honest here and neither of us is going anywhere, what exactly do you guys do in Vegas?” she asked. “What would anyone want to ‘bloody you up’ for?”
His smile came back. “Well, I don’t usually brag about these things, but—like you said—neither of us is going anywhere. We have all sorts of tricks. For the most part, we play out on the streets, scamming tourists w
ith card games and such. Every now and then, we go into the casinos and use our tricks at the tables. Blackjack is my favorite because you’re playing just against the house. More money that way, if you do it right.”
“You don’t feel bad about what you do?” she asked. “Not that I’m judging or anything.”
“Hell no.” He shrugged. “We aren’t taking money from tourists that they weren’t expecting to lose gambling anyway. Casinos make so much money off people every day; trust me, they aren’t hurting for what we take from them. It’s not like we’re stealing or robbing people. To them it all appears fair, money rightfully lost. No one feels any worse off for it.”
“Can’t argue with that logic.” She laughed. “How is it that you can even bet in the casinos when you’re under age?”
“When you’ve done this as long as we have, you don’t need to be twenty-one,” he said. “As long as you don’t look like a teenager, or sound like one, and you know how to play people—they don’t bother to check.”
“So that’s what the suits are all about,” she said. He really did look older—not because of his looks necessarily, but just because of how he carried himself. He spilled over with raw confidence and the clean cut black suit made him look like a money shark straight off of Wall Street.
“How long have you been doing it?” she asked.
He leaned his head back against the wall. “Oh…about five years, I guess.”
“Since you were fourteen?”
“Pretty much. Skylar and I grew up in the same crappy foster home. When we were thirteen, we ran away. We were already so close to Vegas and knew we had a certain knack for lying and tricking people, so it was the perfect place. Things were hard at first but it didn’t take long for us to learn the rules of the city and find our niche.”
“You grew up in a foster home, you say? Here in America?” she asked. “How did you get that accent?”
“Well, I was born in England. When I was seven, my parents moved here. They died in a car accident not long after. I had no other family in England or America, so I went into the foster system. Got stuck in the same home as Skylar.”
“Aww, I’m so sorry,” she said.
“Don’t be; I’m not,” he said. “I mean, yeah it sucks that I lost my parents, and that my foster parents were dead beat druggies, but I’m not sad that I grew up with Skylar. He’s my brother, my best friend in the world, and I wouldn’t change anything.” He said that with such heart, his deep blue eyes sincere as he looked at her. It was so refreshing to find someone with such a realistic, no bullshit outlook on life. Most people with even half as unfortunate of circumstances fed their misery rather than rising above it.
“My, uh, my dad died, too—when I was thirteen,” she said, feeling like she needed to share something with him in exchange for all he’d shared with her. “Our house burnt down and he didn’t make it out. It’s just been me and my mom ever since.”
“I’m sorry,” he said. “At least you have your mom.” He smiled supportively. “I can’t imagine how different my life would be if one of my parents survived the crash. I suppose it would have been nice to grow up with a real parent, but that would mean I would have never met Skylar. I don’t think that’s a trade I would make if I had the choice.”
“You guys must have been through a lot together,” Phoenyx said.
“We sure have.” He nodded. “Poor Skylar never even knew his parents; he’d been in that foster home all his life. The fact that we share the same birthday is actually one of the reasons we got to be so close, I think. Of course, our foster parents didn’t give a damn about birthdays, so every year Skylar and I would sneak a little something for each other—that way neither of us had to go without a birthday. Not to mention every other kid in the home was bigger and meaner, so Skylar was really the only friend I had. He still is.”
She smiled. “It must be nice to have such a good friend. I had friends back home but none I consider my best friend. After my dad died, we moved from Arizona to Illinois and I had to start fresh. I guess I just never really opened up to anyone enough.”
“Well, let’s change that right now,” he said.
She scrunched her eyebrows at him dubiously. “Right here? Right now? Yeah, I’m so sure I’m gonna make some awesome friends while being held against my will in a creepy prison cell.” Never mind the fact that she was already good friends with Lily.
“Sure,” he said encouragingly. “Why not make one more friend? You don’t have anything better to do. Open up to me, a perfect stranger, and maybe that will help you break your habit. I’ve told you things I don’t usually tell people I have just met. Tell me something about yourself you never told any of your friends back home.”
“All right, fine.” She snorted a laugh. “Let’s see…oh, here’s something…I am absolutely terrified of water.”
He raised an eyebrow at her and looked as though he wanted to laugh. “Water? Like, any water?”
“I mean, like, bodies of water,” she clarified. “Lakes, ponds, swimming pools. I can’t even take a bubble bath, only showers.”
He laughed a little too loudly, causing Lily to stir. He covered his mouth then brought his voice back down to a whisper.
“You’re messing with me. Seriously?”
She shrugged and nodded.
“Why?” he asked. “Are you afraid you’re going to drown?”
“No, I just innately do not like the idea of being surrounded by water. I don’t know what it is.”
“So, you’ve never been swimming before?” he asked.
“Nope. My dad tried to teach me once and I accidently kicked him in the face, trying to get out of the pool. No one ever tried again.”
He covered his mouth and laughed as softly as he could manage.
“Wow. I can’t imagine never swimming,” he said. “I love swimming. Back when I was in school, I was on the swim team; the youngest guy to make it on the swim team in fact. That was the only thing I missed once we ran away. Even now, I can’t go one week without having a good swim. You are selling yourself short by avoiding bubble baths. One of life’s simplest pleasures.”
She shrugged. “If you say so.”
He chuckled once and shook his head. “What about this: make me a promise right now that when we get out of here, you will go into a hot tub with me. It’s smaller than a pool and shallow enough that you can just sit in it. You don’t even have to go all the way in—you can just stick your feet in.”
Mildly impressed by his bravado and, for the first time, oddly comforted by the fact that she had no idea if, or when, they would get out of here, she said, “Sure. Why not?”
“You have to say it,” he insisted.
She rolled her eyes. “Fine. If we get out of here, I will let you drag me into a hot tub.”
“Excellent,” he said. “Sebastian Reid, changing lives one hot tub at a time.”
She laughed. “You just want to see me in a bikini.”
“No,” he said sincerely. He then smiled flirtatiously and said, “Not that that isn’t a bonus.”
Her smile was patronizing but she felt her cheeks reddening with blush. Being stuck here might not be so bad after all.
She changed the subject and they kept talking. It was strange how comfortable the conversation felt, having only just met him. She could talk to him as casually and as easily as if they were old friends. It was never this easy for her. He was so goofy and carefree, which made it even easier. It could just be because they were trapped in this room with nothing better to do. When you’re lumped in a life-changing situation with someone, you’re bound to feel closer to them by default, right? They talked for a long time, hours maybe, until her lack of sleep caught up to her and she nodded off against the bars.
“I’ll let you sleep now,” Sebastian said softly.
She nodded again, stopped fighting it, and let her eyes close, welcoming better dreams than the one she’d started this night out with.
It was suc
h a beautiful day to be stuck working in the bar but she didn’t hate it. The Mulligan was the hottest bar in town, and only the wealthy came to dance here. The building itself had such an extravagant charm to it. The floor was covered in shimmering white marble—a milky sea with the finest red velvet lounges floating on top here and there. The bar was smooth, rich mahogany, with artistic carvings climbing all the way up. Behind the bar was a mirror that reached to the ceiling, flanked by bunched red velvet curtains on either side and crowned with upside-down carved mahogany peaks, like teeth pointing down at the bar top.
The appearance was alluring enough to draw people in, and the music was the reason people stayed. This was the ‘it’ place for young people. Guys came to show off to their girls, married men came to show off their wives, and single gals came to show off to everyone. Married, dating, or single, the male costumers were always putty in her hands, so their tips made for a great living; getting free drinks every night wasn’t half bad either.
She came to work with her hair dolled up like one of the fancy rich ladies, wearing a dress of sequins and sheer, because rumors were going around that some of Al Capone’s men were in town, meaning she had the potential to make big money if she played her cards right.
The afternoon was going like any other. All the typical characters brought in a different girl than the night before. Thank God she wasn’t as foolish as these girls. She would never fall for any of the crap these sweet-talkers spew, and boy did they ever spew it at her, all the time.
“Scarlett,” Mickey, the other bartender called, then slid a shot glass down the bar toward her. She caught it and looked at the brown liquid inside it, the heady fumes of whiskey opening her nostrils. Mickey nodded his head toward a man at the other end of the bar who smiled at her and raised his own glass.
The man was devilishly handsome with jet black hair, the bluest of blue eyes, and a jaw so angular it could cut glass. Judging by the suit he wore, he was no Gatsby wannabe. Something about him was familiar. Had she seen him before? No, she would remember.
She nodded at him with a smile, then took the shot. How did he know that whiskey was her favorite? She walked over to him and decided to chat him up, see if she couldn’t flirt a few bucks out of him, or another drink.