Love's Wager

by J. M. Jeffries

  Lydia Montgomery was a tiny, fragile-looking woman with a wealth of hair clustered about her shoulders, intelligent brown eyes and a classically beautiful face. She wore a white-and-black Stella McCartney pantsuit. She was stylish in a Lena Horne/Princess Diana way that made Nina want to make her the face of Casa de Mariposa.

  “Is there any way I can turn you into a celebutante?” Nina asked her.

  Lydia’s elegant eyebrows rose in surprise. “What?”

  “A celebutante. Sort of like Paris Hilton, but with class.”

  Lydia shook her head, amusement in her eyes. “No.”

  Nina sighed. It was worth a try. “Understand this is all tentative.” She pointed at her tablet. “I want to create a buzz that establishes Casa de Mariposa as an insider place that you need to be totally cool to get into. And everyone will want to come because deep down inside, people want to be cool, to be unique. They want to be part of the ‘in’ crowd.”

  Lydia nodded, as though agreeing.

  “Vegas has such a great tag line. ‘What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas.’ That is so alluring a concept. At the city limits you can let yourself be free. But now that Vegas is everyone’s playground, there’s no place to be naughty anymore. We need to bring that concept to Reno.”

  “Do you mean you want people to come to Reno to misbehave and do bad things?” Miss E. frowned as she studied the tablet.

  “I want people to come here and be naughty.” Being naughty was good, Nina thought.

  Lydia frowned. “What’s the difference?”

  “Naughty is fun without the jail time.” Nina grinned at Lydia.

  “What’s your plan of attack?” Miss E. asked as she studied the tablet.

  “A good website and a great blogger. I have a friend, Eydie, who already has worked up a mock website and blog.” Nina ran her fingers across the iPad and started the slide show. “I looked at other hotel websites and they all spotlight what’s happening in their hotel or casino, but don’t really give a flavor for Reno. Besides highlighting the hotel, spa and casino, we also show life in Reno away from the casinos. I know I’ve only been here a day, but this place has an incredible foundation. Once the spa is completed, you’ll have some of the best amenities to offer guests and I know how to entice them to come.” She had more ideas, but didn’t want to give too much away too soon.

  Miss E. nodded. “How are you going to get famous people to come here?”

  Nina laughed. “They all owe me favors. I have several events the hotel should think about hosting.”

  “Such as?” Lydia asked.

  “A film festival is one. This is an ideal location. You have a big jazz concert here every year and a film is a perfect complement to it. Who can resist movies and jazz? We could do a comic convention.”

  “Reed would like that,” Miss E. said in delight.

  “I know, I did my research. And I know from a friend that the snowboarding and ski people are looking for a new place to host their convention. The spillover would benefit every hotel in Reno.”

  “These are big plans,” Lydia interrupted. “How are you going to implement them?”

  Nina grinned. “With style and grace. I have an incredible group of people I work with and each one is a master at what they do. By the time we’re done, Casa de Mariposa will be the place for every celebrity who wants to be seen, to be seen in.”

  Lydia frowned. “Aren’t you concerned that Reno is a little difficult to get to? Anyone who wants to fly in has to change planes at least once, if not twice, depending on their start point.”

  “Not at all. Part of the appeal of Reno is the fact that it’s slightly out of the way, giving it a sense of exclusivity. Anyone can take a direct flight to Vegas and be there in hours. Getting to Reno takes a little extra effort, but you, Miss E., are going to make that effort worthwhile.”

  “Look at you flattering me,” Miss E. said with a wry shake of her head.

  “The harder something is to attain, the more people want it. So it’s a little more difficult to get here. Celebrities will come because they’ll think it’s a little more private. And other people will come to see celebrities, so they’ll make the effort, too.”

  “I get that we want to bring in celebrity guests,” Lydia said, “because they’ll bring the crowd, but we don’t want to alienate any of our regular guests.”

  “I understand completely and I don’t want to alienate them, either. The regular guests are the bread and butter of this place, yet at the same time, they want a show. And having celebrities stay here is a show you don’t have to pay a lot for. You will have to compensate them in free rooms and free meals. These are people who play hard. You’ll get them to your gaming tables, cocktail bars, restaurants and nightclub.”

  “How do you know this?” Lydia asked curiously.

  “Lua el Sol has been the ‘in’ place for celebrities to be seen for over twenty years. I learned what I needed to know about making a place popular by watching my parents and instituting their strategies. I’m very good at what I do.” And her parents were brilliant. Her father knew exactly how to make Lua el Sol the perfect hangout while providing great food, music and fun. She found her excitement growing. Before, she’d always had something to work with while promoting whoever or whatever she was promoting, but Casa de Mariposa had nothing. She had a clean slate to start with; she could build an incredible promotion from the ground up. Ideas swirled around her mind so quickly she could barely contain them.

  “And you can get this in place for New Year’s Eve, the grand opening.”

  “Done,” Nina said proudly. “I thought for New Year’s Eve we’d do a Brazilian-style carnaval, Rio in Reno. Samba dancing, Brazilian jazz and food. I thought I’d call my dad and have him sit down with Donovan...”

  “Donovan,” Miss E. said, “will be here in a few weeks. He just has some things to take care of in Paris before he can get away.”

  “My dad will be happy to work with him on revamping the menu in the larger restaurant.”

  “I’m sure Donovan will be delighted.” Miss E. looked delighted herself.

  “Trust me,” Nina patted Miss E.’s hand. “You have nothing to worry about.”

  “But isn’t carnaval associated with Mardi Gras and Lent?” Lydia asked.

  “We can start a new tradition.” Nina wanted to shake things up a bit. Doing the same thing at the same time got old quickly. Nina’s success was that she could take old events and make them new in an entirely different way. She liked the title “Rio in Reno.” She envisioned a whole line of Rio-in-Reno events that would shake the foundations of the Casa de Mariposa.

  Miss E. looked at Lydia. “I like it. I’ve always wanted to learn how to samba dance wearing one of those little, itty-bitty costumes with feathers.”

  Lydia sighed. “Four months ago, I would have been scandalized.”

  Nina grinned. “Miss E. has the body for it.”

  Lydia and Miss E. burst into laughter and Nina found herself joining in. Miss E. would do it. The first time Nina had met her, she’d known that Miss E. was a spitfire who held nothing back.

  “What would the grandchildren say?” Lydia said between giggles.

  Miss E. fell back against the sofa cushions. “They’d love it, except maybe for Scott. He’s just too serious at times.” She patted Nina’s arm. “You need to loosen him up.”

  “Me! Why me?” Nina didn’t think anything would loosen Scott’s inner serious.

  “Because you, my dear, are fun.”

  Nina’s laughter trailed away, uncertain what to make of Miss E. comment. She and Scott were fire and rocks. All the two of them would do was make lava and level a city.

  * * *

  Scott stood behind Gary White, pointing at the monitor. “Did you see that?”

  Gary lean
ed forward, frowning slightly. “She’s Miles Dombrowsky’s granny.” Gary dismissed her with a wave of his hand. “She’s here all the time and just as sweet as can be.” Gary shrugged. “She’s harmless. Brings cookies sometimes.”

  “Harmless?” Scott said. “She’s stealing wallets.” He eyed Gary, telling himself not to snarl at the man. Gary may have worked security in this casino for nearly ten years, but he didn’t seem to know a thing about security. Or maybe he did, but was willing to let certain things slide because she was related to another employee.

  “I’ll call Miles and have him pick her up.” Gary reached for his cell phone.

  “I don’t think so.” Age was the greatest cover Scott had ever seen. Who would suspect a little old lady of being a thief who looked like she’d melt a heart of stone?

  The elderly woman held a huge black tote and wore an oversize black hat with droopy pink flowers. She leaned over a man sitting at a slot machine, not quite touching him. Her hand moved so quickly Scott almost blinked. The little old lady was good with smooth, unhurried movements. If he hadn’t been watching, expecting her next move, he might have missed it.

  The elderly woman shuffled away. She moved out of the range of one security camera and into the next one. She stood in the center of the aisle between the rows of chiming slots, one hand to her chin, her eyes assessing the guests on stools in front of the machines.

  Scott shook his head. Time to stop her. He spoke into the mic alerting the two security guards on the floor and told them to pick her up and bring her to the interview room. He watched as the two guards approached her and gently took her by the arm, ushering her discreetly from the floor.

  Scott left the control room and headed for the interview room. A minute later, Michaelson and Turner brought her in.

  “Take your hands off me, young man. How dare you manhandle me! I’ve been a loyal customer of this casino for over twenty-five years.”

  Scott simply smiled. “Please sit down.” He pulled a chair out for her.

  “You can’t keep me here.” She sat gingerly on the very edge of the chair, placing her tote on the table. “I’ve done nothing wrong.” Her lower lips quivered. Tears gathered in the corners of her eyes and a tiny sob caught in her throat. “Why have you brought me here? I was minding my own business.”

  What a performance, Scott thought. He sat across from her smiling politely.

  The woman was tiny, barely five feet tall, with delicate bone structure, a broad face, blue eyes and gray hair tucked tight inside the hat. A few wisps escaped and danced around her ears. She wore a plain gray dress belted at the waist, a gold watch on one wrist and a gold band on her left ring finger. Makeup, applied with expert skill, softened her face. He figured she was somewhere in her seventies, but a well-preserved seventies.

  “I’ve got you on the monitor with your hand in a man’s pocket.”

  “He was my grandson.” She gave a shrug.

  “No, he wasn’t. Would you tell me your name?”

  She lifted her chin into the air. “No comment.”

  He kept his voice soft and gentle. “Please, just tell me your name?”

  “No.” She stared stonily at him, her light blue eyes alive with amusement. She was enjoying herself. “You can’t prove I’ve done anything wrong.”

  Scott rested his elbows on the table pretending to consider her comment. When he stood, he accidentally knocked her tote to the floor. Half a dozen wallets spilled out of the tote across the carpet.

  The woman glanced down. “Those aren’t mine.”

  “I know they aren’t.” He picked up the wallets and glanced inside each one.

  “I don’t know how those wallets got into my tote. They must have jumped in. Or someone else put them there. I’m being framed.” She gave him a guileless look as though daring him to prove her wrong.

  He opened a woman’s wallet. Inside was a driver’s license with her photo. Marina Dombrowsky. “Dombrowsky. Is that Polish?”

  “Russian,” she snapped, attempting to snatch the wallet out of his hand. He held it away from her.

  “I see.” He glanced at Turner. “I have a Miles Dombrowsky who works night security. That’s an unusual enough name. Are you related to him?” He asked even though he already knew.

  She pressed her lips together refusing to answer. Her eyes narrowed as she watched him. She knew he’d caught her red-handed, but she wasn’t about to give an inch.

  “Ms. Dombrowsky,” he coaxed.

  “Mrs. Dombrowsky,” she snapped. “Married fifty-five years, God bless his miserly old soul, and gone these last three.”

  “Mrs. Dombrowsky,” he corrected. “I’m going to do you a favor.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “What kind of favor?”

  “I’m going to return all these wallets to their owners, no questions asked. You will be escorted from the building. Should I see your face here again, I’ll be calling the Reno PD and turning you over to them.”

  She looked him straight in the eye with a defiant gleam. “Do your worst.”

  Scott smiled. “It’s on, lady.”

  She sat straight in the chair, her gaze never leaving his face. He removed his cell phone and held it up. “Smile,” he said and snapped a photo.

  The flash blinded her and she blinked rapidly for a second. He sent the photo to his computer. He’d send it to everyone working security—the casino’s own most-wanted list. “Now, I have your face for posterity. Trust me...” he pointed at her, feeling a little guilty for manhandling a little old lady “...I will not forget you ever.”

  She glared at him, her eyes slits and her mouth tight with anger. “You’re a bully and you’re rude.”

  “Ms. Dombrowsky...”

  “Mrs. Dombrowsky,” she snapped angrily.

  “I don’t want to find you in this casino ever again.” He gathered up the wallets and turned to Turner as he left the room. “Take her home.”

  In his office he sat at his desk and called the reception desk asking them to page the names in the wallets. He’d take them down in a moment, but first he needed to make a note to have a talk with Miles Dombrowsky about his grandmother.

  * * *

  Nina walked into the restaurant. The room was huge, filled with booths lining the walls that were upholstered in browns and oranges. Large blocky tables with high-backed chairs sat in the center. The restaurant wanted to look Spanish, but didn’t quite have the mood right. She already knew that Lydia Montgomery had some changes in mind to give the restaurant a more sophisticated ambience.

  In a corner she saw Scott sitting by himself, his laptop open and a pile of papers surrounding it. She hesitated, wondering if he would be annoyed if she interrupted him, but decided he probably needed a break.

  She walked up to him. “Mind if I join you?”

  He looked up, his gaze unfocused. Then it sharpened into pleasure. “Sure. Have a seat.”

  “Don’t overwhelm me with your enthusiasm.” She slid into the booth across from him. The cushions were comfortable and she bounced a little settling herself in. She smiled at him, pleasure at the sight of him curling inside her. She wanted to smooth the furrow between his brows and say something to make him laugh.

  “Then why did you ask?”

  “Because this is the best table to people-watch.”

  A waitress approached with a menu. She wore a flouncy orange dress.

  “That’s why I sat here,” Scott said.

  “Who are you watching?” Nina perused the room critically. Most of the customers were older people with a few families interspersed. She glanced through the menu and found it uninspiring—mostly Mexican foods with standard American hamburgers and steaks. The menu needed a rehab.

  “I’m watching everybody.” His gaze darted around the room.

 
“Isn’t that difficult? Don’t you ever relax when you go out?” This man was in serious need of some fun.

  “I can relax. There are times when I’m not working. This isn’t one of them.”

  “What’s going on in here that I’m not seeing? Is someone stealing the silverware?” She gazed around the room again. A man and woman sat with two children, coaxing them to eat. An elderly man flirted with his waitress while she served him food. A young couple who looked like they were honeymooners gazed into each other’s eyes. In the opposite corner of the room in a shadowed booth, a man spoke on the phone and wrote something down in a notebook spread out on the table. Something about him seemed furtive.

  “See that man in the opposite corner. He’s taking bets on who’s going to win the bachelor on Project: Marriage.”

  “The TV show!” Nina was a bit confused. “But gambling is legal.”

  “Sanctioned gambling, which means bets, need to be placed with licensed bookies in the casino and he’s not licensed. The State of Nevada frowns on that and the casino frowns on it, too, since we’re not making any money.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “A lot of people are going to get a free pass the first time.”

  “But what if they’re doing something illegal? Shouldn’t you call the police?” Nina frowned.

  “You’re the publicity expert. What do you think will happen?”

  Nina thought for a moment. She’d had a lot of experience with people’s arrest records and the unpleasant exposure that could bring. “An arrest is public record and can result in bad publicity.”

  “Exactly,” Scott replied.

  “Do these little problems occur in casinos? This morning you had the pickpocket...”

  “You heard about that”

  “Miss E. mentioned it.”

  “To some extent every casino has little problems, but a lot of what happens, or doesn’t happen depends on the vigilance of the security force.” He frowned.

  Nina gazed around curiously. “This place seems to be having an epidemic.”

  He nodded, his eyes never leaving the unsanctioned bookie. The bookie shifted uncomfortably as though aware he was being watched.