Vegas Sunrise

by Fern Michaels

  “I told you. I want to talk.”

  “There really isn’t anything to say, Birch. This has all been one big mistake. I’m leaving when we go back to town. You can file for a divorce, or I can. The choice is yours. We never should have gotten married.”

  “Why did you marry me, Celia?”

  “Because you were rich, and I was greedy and stupid. It’s all my fault. The only way to make it right is to walk away. Your family doesn’t like me, and I really don’t like them. I’m not like your sisters and your mother, and I won’t remake myself to fit into a mold that fits the Thornton women. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll leave by the front door and walk down the hill. I need the exercise. I’ll leave the explanations up to you.”

  “It’s not a hill. It’s a mountain. Tell me something. Did you ever sleep with Jeff Lassiter?”

  “Sleep with him! Do you mean as in going to bed with him and making love? No, I did not. I should ask you the same question. I saw the way you and Libby looked at each other. I’m a woman, so I can sense these things. Don’t go getting self-righteous on me. I’m out of your life. Keep your damn money, your mountain, and your trust fund. No one ever gave me anything in my life. My mistake was thinking you would.”

  Birch raked his hair with his fingers. “Celia, it wasn’t . . .”

  “Don’t make it worse by trying to justify it, Birch. You screwed around with Libby. I know it, and you know it. Hell, everyone downstairs knows it. It shows on both your faces. So, who’s going to file, me or you?”

  “Let’s not rush into anything here. We need to sit and talk like responsible adults. We aren’t kids.”

  “I am sitting. You’re perched on the second step of a ladder. There is nothing else to say. I’m taking all the blame here. You’re off the hook. I guess I’ll see you around. Then maybe I won’t. In the scheme of things I don’t suppose it matters. By the way, I don’t want anything.”

  “Celia, wait!”

  “There is nothing to wait for, Birch. I’m going to Los Angeles. Ruby has an office there. I’ll work out of it until . . . for now. Ruby was the only one who . . . you know what. It doesn’t matter. What does matter is, I can’t let her down. If you need me to sign papers or anything, send them on.”

  Birch stared after his wife’s retreating back. It was a trick. It had to be a trick. He loped over to the window. By stretching his neck he was able to see his wife walking down the driveway, her shoulder bag slapping against her thighs. She didn’t look back.

  Birch didn’t know if he should run after his wife or not. He felt sick to his stomach. His head started to pound a moment later. She hadn’t said a word about the baby. Did Lassiter lie? What was Celia doing here in this room rocking in a chair? Trying it out for size? Imagining what it would be like to rock a baby? How matter of fact she’d been. She’d correctly interpreted his feelings for Libby. Libby with the wraparound smile. Libby, Libby, Libby.

  After today there wasn’t going to be a Libby or a Celia in his life. Tomorrow, Libby was leaving for New York to take a job in White Plains. She said she’d send a Christmas card. He knew she wouldn’t. He wanted to cry. He’d screwed everything up just the way his father screwed up things. He truly was following in his footsteps. Son of a fucking bitch!

  “It’s pretty cold out there, and it’s a long way down the mountain!”

  “Who asked you? You did enough damage to this family. Don’t go sticking your nose into my business.”

  “What business is that? I can’t screw up your life because you already did that. A person could make something like this come out right, but that person would really have to be unselfish. You aren’t. We both know that. The kid is going to grow up without a father.”

  “Butt out. She didn’t say anything about a kid. If you think I’m going to believe that other son of yours, you’re crazy. He’s just as fucked up as you were. She’s a grown woman. If she wants to freeze her ass off walking down the mountain, that’s her business. Christ, she doesn’t know the difference between a hill and a mountain. Get out of my life. I don’t need you, and I don’t want to talk to you either. Go rattle someone else’s cage.”

  “She told you the truth.”

  “Like you really know a thing or two about truth. All you ever did was lie to Mom and us kids. If my life depended on it, I wouldn’t believe anything you said.”

  “Your loss, Birch. Every day of your life you’re going to wonder about your child. The kid won’t even know you. She probably won’t tell him about you. She might even give him her maiden name. Jake, Polly, and Lexie will never get to know him. A kid needs a father.”

  “If I’m so damn much like you, why would a kid want me for a father? If I do turn out like you, I’d be doing the kid . . . get the hell out of here.”

  “No problem.”

  “Birch? Are you up here? What the hell are you doing in here? Where’s Celia? Iris sent me up here to tell you the pie’s ready. We’ve been waiting for you.”

  “Celia left.”

  “Where’d she go?”

  “Down the mountain. She said one or the other of us should file for divorce. She’s going to L.A. She didn’t say anything about being pregnant. Maybe Lassiter lied. For some reason I think he was telling the truth.”

  Sage sat down on the rocking chair. His thoughts took him to the brown manila envelope that had arrived at sunrise while he was in Vermont. The private detective’s report on Celia. He hadn’t opened it and would probably never open it because he’d stepped over the line into his brother’s private life. At four o’clock in the morning he’d crept downstairs and locked the envelope in the safe. One of these days he’d destroy it.

  “What are you going to do?”

  “I guess I’ll take a page out of the old man’s book and put it behind me. Life goes on. I’ll go back to Atlantic City and when the casino is done, I’ll run it.”

  “Libby?”

  “Libby will get on with her life. She’s going to New York tomorrow.”

  “Wait a minute. I don’t understand. If Celia is going to divorce you, that means you’re free to be with Libby.”

  “She won’t see it that way.”

  Sage’s eyes narrowed. “You’re going to let both of them walk out of your life. Just like that.”

  “Isn’t that what the old man would do?”

  “Yeah, but you aren’t Dad. You have choices, options here. It’s up to you, Birch.”

  “I feel like my world caved in. Look. I don’t want to talk about this. Let’s go get that pie.”

  “You’re just going to let Celia walk down the mountain.”

  “That’s what our old man would have done. It’s over, forget it.”

  “Sure, Birch, whatever you say. I’ll meet you downstairs.”

  The moment Sage heard his brother’s footsteps on the stairs, he went into his room, closed the door and dialed Chue’s number. Charlie, Chue’s seventeen-year-old grandson answered the phone. “Do me a favor, Charlie, take your grandfather’s pickup and give Mrs. Thornton a ride to town.” He listened a moment and then laughed. “I happen to know Iris made two extra pies for you guys. Your grandfather will bring them down later. Thanks, Charlie.”

  Fanny slipped into her coat. “We had such a good time. Invite us again, Iris.”

  Iris laughed. “The door’s always open.” She hugged her mother-in-law.

  “Did you and Sage iron everything out,” Fanny whispered.

  “Yes. I was so stupid. He couldn’t believe I would think such awful things. Making up was wonderful. Being separated for eight days was pure hell.”

  “I’m glad it worked out. I knew it would. What happened to Celia?”

  “Sage said she and Birch had a tiff, and she walked down the mountain.”

  “And Birch let her!”

  “Sage called Charlie to give her a ride. Don’t say anything to Birch.”

  “Of course not. Guess we’ll see you on Thanksgiving.”

  Iris stepped aside
as Libby approached and reached for Fanny’s hand.

  “Mrs. Thornton, I’d like to say good-bye and thank you for giving me the opportunity of working at the center. I’ll miss all of you. I feel like you’re my family.”

  “Are you sure you won’t change your mind?” Fanny asked as she took the young woman into her arms.

  “No, I can’t. My replacement is someone I handpicked for Sunny and Harry. They’re both good with this. I’m going to miss them, all of you. Perhaps I’ll come back for a visit one of these days.”

  Fanny pressed a folded envelope into Libby’s hands. “It’s just a little something to make the transition easier. Promise to call and write.”

  “I will. Tell Birch I said . . . tell him . . .” Her eyes filling with tears, Libby ran to the van.

  “Don’t even think about touching that one, Fanny,” Marcus hissed into her ear.

  “How did I miss that, Marcus?”

  “You were too busy enjoying your grandchildren and eating all that food. We both need to go on a diet. Let’s get a move on. I want us to curl up on those red chairs and hold hands.”

  “You are my man, Marcus Reed. Lead the way.”

  “Fanny, wait up,” Ruby called.

  “Is something wrong, Ruby?”

  “No, no, nothing’s wrong. Metaxas and I wondered if we could have about thirty minutes of your time when we get back to town. If Marcus is too tired, it can wait till tomorrow.”

  “Marcus?”

  “Sure. How about the Harem Lounge? Drinks are on me,” Marcus said.

  “Spoken like a true Texan,” Metaxas boomed. “We’ll follow you down the mountain. I never knew anyone who actually lived on a mountain. Or owned a mountain. I learn something every day.”

  Fanny smiled as her eyes raked the room for a sign of Birch. She knew instinctively where he was. She looked at Sage who nodded. She wondered who it was in the small cemetery who would be giving him comfort.

  “Don’t worry, Mom. I’m going to make him stay the night. Jake and I already have it all worked out. Birch loves that kid and enjoys every minute he spends with him. Plus, Jake can give him some insight on Dad.”

  Fanny shook her head. “It’s amazing. A child giving one of us insight. Good night, honey. Thanks for having us. Help Iris in the kitchen. She refused everyone’s help.”

  “That’s because cleaning the kitchen after company is what Iris calls our quality time. It’s a good thing, Mom. Drive carefully.”

  “Where’s Billie? I didn’t see her leave?”

  “She left about fifteen minutes ago. She said she had a bad headache and wanted to get to bed early.”

  Alarm showed on Fanny’s face. “Do you . . . ?”

  “I don’t know, Mom. Call her when you get to town. If you need me, whistle.”

  “‘Night everyone,” Fanny called.

  Billie Thornton garaged her car, unloaded the trunk of all the goodies Iris had pressed on her. She wouldn’t have to cook for a week. Her arms full, she headed for the underground elevator that would take her to her high-rise apartment. It took her ten minutes to sort through the packages and stack them in the freezer. She used up another five minutes mixing a drink and kicking off her shoes. Her watch told her it was only eight o’clock. She switched on the television, flipping through the channels for something that would hold her interest. A minute later she turned off the television, reached for her coat, and left the apartment.

  A walk in the cool evening air would be good. Who was she fooling? Certainly not herself. She knew exactly where she was going and what she was going to do. Count to ten, once, twice, three times. Call your counselor. Count again until the urge passes. Do it, Billie. She tried and failed. How much money did she have in her purse? Not much. Possibly $30. She retraced her steps, running this time, counting as she raced along. She danced from one foot to the other, her stomach churning, her eyes glassy until the elevator stopped on her floor. She ran then, faster than she’d used to run on the mountain when she was a child. Her hands trembled as she tried to fit the key into the lock. When she finally succeeded in getting the door open she bolted inside and ran to the dining room, to the corner where a large blue water bottle stood. Her breath exploded from her mouth in hard little gasps as she dropped to her knees and upended the bottle, silver dollars rolling all over the floor. She scrambled to retrieve them.

  Count to ten, call your counselor. One, two . . . Did she need to roll the silver? How much was here? Once she’d calculated she had close to $800. She stopped for a second trying to remember if she had coin wrappers or not. No, she didn’t have any. What she did have was a canvas bank sack for coins, but where was it? She couldn’t think. She was dizzy now, hyperventilating. Count to ten, call your counselor.

  The coins went into her denim carry bag she was never without. Damn, it was heavy and dragging down her left shoulder. She didn’t care. All the weight did was slow her down. That was okay, too. Stop! Call your counselor, take deep breaths. This will pass. In the lobby, Billie fished in her pocket for a quarter. Her hands were shaking so badly she dropped the coin four times before she was able to fit it into the slot. She dialed the number she’d memorized. “Shit!” What was the woman’s name? She couldn’t remember. Sara, Sybil . . . Sylvia. Yes, Sylvia. She waited doing her dancing two step, the denim bag on the floor at her feet. “Come on, come on, answer the damn phone already!” She broke the connection just as a voice on the other end of the phone said, “Sorry, I was in the shower. Hello . . . hello.”

  Billie trudged along, people staring at her. She glared at them as she shifted the denim bag from one shoulder to the other. The moment she saw Babylon’s high-rise sign, she crossed the street and entered the first casino she came to. Had she known what she looked like, she might have detoured to the ladies’ room for a quick repair job. Instead she headed for the nearest money changer. “I’d like bills for these,” she said in a jittery-sounding voice. She brushed at her hair. Count to ten. Call the counselor again before you do this. Maybe she had stepped outside, maybe she was in the bathroom. Try again. Don’t blow this. Count to ten.

  “This is good. Thanks,” Billie said stuffing the bills into her pocket. She walked the floor to the next money changer and did the same thing. This is good, she thought. The bag is getting lighter. Count to ten. Call your counselor.

  On the other side of the casino floor, in the casino’s main office, two men sat staring at a monitor. They looked at one another and nodded. One of the men pressed the Security button. The door was opened almost immediately. The men pointed to the monitor and the Security guard nodded briefly. “Be discreet. Don’t call attention to the young lady. Bring her here. Don’t frighten her.”

  “I’ll make some calls,” the second man said.

  “Neal, this is John Dallas. Do you by any chance know how I can locate Mrs. Thornton? Excuse me, Mrs. Reed. She’s there. I need to speak to her. We have your pigeon. Thanks aren’t necessary. We put the word out the minute you spoke to us. There isn’t a casino in town that will take her money. You know we take care of our own. Four tickets to the Lakers game? You send those suckers right over, Neal. Sure, I’ll hold on.”

  Billie knew she was being hustled. Her shoulders slumped as the two Security guards, who resembled Wall Street bankers, escorted her to the office across the floor. She didn’t cry until she was inside, her shoulders shaking. “You aren’t going to believe me but I’m glad you dragged me in here. I tried not to do it. I really did. Do me a favor, though, please don’t call my mother.”

  “She’s on the floor now heading this way. We don’t do business that way.” The older of the two men walked over and dropped to one knee. He cupped her face in one hand. “Look at me, Miss Thornton, and listen carefully. There isn’t a casino in this town that will take your money. Every establishment on the Big White Way is off-limits to you. Do you understand what I just said?”

  “Yes, but how . . . why . . . I don’t understand,” Billie gulped.


  “This town owes its business to the Thornton family. We can’t allow you to destroy what your grandmother and your father built here. Your addiction would destroy it in insidious little ways. At the moment you might not believe we’re helping you, but we are.”

  Fanny was a whirlwind as she rushed to her daughter. “Oh, Billie, why didn’t you call me? Did you follow the steps? What happened?”

  “Mom, this is how I get. I can’t control it. These men helped me. Right now I don’t see it that way. Tomorrow I will. I’m sorry, Mom. I’m okay now. It’s passed I did try to call my counselor, but there was no answer.”

  “You have to keep trying until you reach a counselor. Take your daughter home, Mrs. Reed.”

  “Thank you. Thank you for . . . everything. It doesn’t seem adequate, but it’s all I can come up with right now.”

  “Mrs. Reed, your daughter is not welcome in any casino in town. Perhaps one day that will change. None of us wants her money. Perhaps she’ll understand that tomorrow.”

  Fanny turned and smiled at the man’s slow wink. She nodded slightly. “I think, Mr. Dallas, Ash Thornton would be very proud of you tonight. I know I am. Tomorrow is a bright new day. I’m looking forward to it. Good night, gentlemen.”

  Fanny’s voice was stern, yet gentle, when she said, “This was probably the best thing that could have happened to you. Now you know you aren’t welcome anywhere.”

  “Are you saying I’m a pariah?”

  “Yes. If your next question is, did I alert the other casino owners, the answer is no. Word gets out. There are no secrets in this town just as there are no clocks in the casinos. Your father always said, as did Sallie, this town takes care of its own. Be grateful, Billie, that they do. Now there is a little matter of some outstanding money. Hand it over.”

  “Even the silver dollars?”

  “Every single one. And the money in your pockets.”

  “Okay, okay.”

  “Way to go Fanny!”

  “Is she going to make it, Ash? This was pretty scary.”

  “She’s your daughter, Fanny. My money’s on Billie.”