by Kelly Wood
Passion talked nonstop. Not even losing her breath as she plugged on. I huffed and puffed trying to respond to her questions. Gray never said anything. I looked at him with jealousy. He was obviously tuning her out. I stabbed at the pace-setting button on the machine, slowing it down to a manageable pace for me. It was amazing how quickly the body went back to being out of shape.
“So, Passion, tell me about Frank?” Since she insisted on talking nonstop, I decided to use it to my benefit. The question ended her diatribe on the show and her outfit changes.
“Isn’t he great? I love him and working here.” Passion touched some buttons on her machine and the base inclined a few inches.
“Sure. I don’t know him, I mean. What was he doing in our room last night?”
“Frank’s super hands-on. He knows all of the dancers by name. He even stops in to see our rehearsals.”
“Is that normal?”
“No. I’ve never seen an owner take so much interest in a show before. I think he’s nervous for the grand reopening. He just wants everything to be perfect.”
I didn’t ask her any more questions because I couldn’t get enough air into my lungs. My side burned and my lungs screamed for relief. I slowed my machine down even more. I watched the light play off the water. Through the window, the sight was mesmerizing. If my body allowed it, I could run down here just as easily as outside along the lake in Chicago.
Passion jumped off the treadmill, literally. She bounded away to the weight machines located on the side of the room. I checked Gray’s progress. He had plugged in his headphones and was currently watching the TV in the corner. I could see some news anchor delivering her information with a passive look on her face. Personally, she looked Botoxed enough for ten people. She probably couldn’t make any facial movements at all.
I focused on my breathing, taking long, deep breaths in and out, looking straight ahead. A man stood on the opposite edge of the pool wearing European-cut swim trunks. He stretched his body, twisting this way and that. I pegged him to be in his forties, but in excellent condition. He didn’t have the middle-age paunch of most forty-somethings. Sun glinted off his head, obscuring his hair color. He had a trimmed beard – a mix of salt and pepper, as my mom would say.
As I watched him, he raised his hands above his head and dove into the pool. He swam straight for us. No wonder he was in such good shape if he swam laps every day. As he neared, I noticed he was bald. Not in the old man way, but as a style statement, I thought. His movements were fluid with the grace of a natural athlete. As he neared the wall, he took one last breath and plunged under the water. He looked me straight in the eye as he placed a small black square on the glass. I looked down at it in confusion and then up again to him. His mouth moved as if he were trying to convey a message to me, before turning around and swimming away. When he reached the edge, he pulled himself up out of the water and walked away. I lost sight of him when he walked behind a cabana.
I touched Gray’s arm to get his attention. His focus was still on the TV mounted in the far corner. I pointed to the black square and told him what the man did. I couldn’t explain what happened next. One minute I was talking to Gray and the next my chest hurt. Like a soundless wave had passed through me. I stopped the treadmill and rubbed my sternum.
Gray got off his machine and walked to the glass. He reached out a finger and tapped the glass wall where the black box could be seen. A popping noise had us jumping. A crack started at the box and spread diagonally to each corner. Each jump in length echoed another popping sound.
“Run!”
Chapter Eleven
Franky June 1988
Frank reacted. He never knew how he did it so quickly. Maybe it was years of sensing the danger in his old man, or a self-preservation kicking in. Frank grabbed Antonio’s head, pushing it between the man’s knees. Frank covered him with his own body. The first shot broke the passenger window and grazed Frank’s shoulder. Frank lost count of the others until one pierced through the door. The bullet lodged in Frank’s hand, coming close to Antonio’s side. A gut shot would’ve been bad. Painful way to die.
Glass rained down on them. Tires screeched, as the car sped away, signaling safety for them to sit back up. Frank kept Antonio down for another moment, afraid to let him up in case the danger wasn’t gone. His hand hurt like it had been run over by a freight train and his shoulder burned. He needed to see his hand. See if it was even still there, but he continued to hold Antonio down until Antonio started to fight against him.
“You alright, Boss?”
Antonio sat up. Frank used the bottom of his shirt and his good hand to put pressure on the wound in his hand, ignoring his shoulder for now. Frank ran his finger along the edge of the bullet sticking out of his hand.
“Can you drive?”
“I think I can. We’re close.” Frank used his good hand to drive. Ignoring all speed limits, he raced to the hotel. He sped around slower traffic. Frank used the pain to stay focused on his job; getting Antonio to safety. He screeched to a stop under the awning of the back door to the hotel. He knew Antonio wouldn’t want to use the front entrance in case there was another ambush.
Valets rushed for the doors when he stopped the car, quickly realizing it was their boss and something was wrong. Frank’s adrenaline waned as they were walked to safety. He heard Antonio yelling orders but couldn’t make out the words. His only focus was the pain now. He tightened the pressure on his injured hand with his shirt acting as a bandage. Antonio’s men hustled them further inside the hotel and to the elevator.
They exited on the floor for Antonio’s offices. Antonio would never bring trouble home to his penthouse one floor up. That was his safe place. Frank sat in an office chair, trying to breathe through the pain. He was determined not to act like a fool in front of Antonio even though he felt the tears threatening to overflow from his eyes. He blinked rapidly, knowing how to fight through the pain. After all, he’d been doing it his whole life.
He looked up only when Antonio put his hand on Frank’s shoulder causing him to start from the pain there. He had forgotten about that wound when the bullet struck his hand. Antonio pulled his hand away surprised at the blood. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and pressed it to Frank’s shoulder wound.
“Doctor’s on his way, Franky.” Frank didn’t know whether to be more shocked that Antonio had called for his personal doctor or that he had called Frank by name.
“Somebody needs to get the boys,” Frank said, referring to his sons.
“Already done. I take care of my own,” Antonio said.
Two steps forward and one back, Franky thought. The boss finally acknowledged he had a name and then Franky had to go and insult the man.
____
Franky stood smoking a cigarette while he thought over the previous night. His hand was wrapped and hanging in a sling. It’d take some time to heal, but the doc said it was a pretty minor wound. The door had almost stopped the bullet itself, so Franky’s hand just became its resting place. Not even a broken bone.
He watched the front entrance to the country club. Costa, his wife, and the girl had gone in an hour before. With Franky’s hand out of commission for a while, Antonio had sent him on this mission.
Franky tossed the cigarette, not bothering to stub it out. Surveillance was boring but had perked up a little at the sight of Costa’s guest, Gracie. Frank learned her name last night, too. He learned a lot.
After the doctor had arrived, Antonio had demanded Costa’s presence. The fight that ensued in the office had been epic. Franky thought Antonio’s yelling was going to shake the rafters and bring down the hotel. Costa never raised his voice back so Franky couldn’t hear his replies. Costa’s calm exterior had kept Franky on edge the whole time. Antonio and Costa went around and round, with Antonio pointing his finger for the attempted murder at Costa. Costa denied, of course, but Franky tended to believe him. If Costa had ordered the hit, neither he nor Antonio would be left standin
g.
Still, the boss didn’t trust him. It was Franky’s job to follow Costa, make sure he didn’t set up a meeting with Milano, that he wasn’t pulling a double-cross on Antonio. Franky pulled at the neckline of his monkey suit. Antonio had insisted on it, saying he needed to blend in with wherever Costa went. And Costa only went upscale.
Franky perked up out of his reminiscing when the front door opened and Gracie emerged alone. She walked toward the golf course, oblivious of everything around her. She stopped at the edge of the tree line along the first fairway. Leaning against the trunk with her cheek against the bark, she looked like an angel. Her blonde hair hung past her shoulders in soft waves. Franky’s hand itched to touch it. He bet it would feel like silk.
Franky debated the merits of going to talk to her. He wanted to. He wanted to with everything in him, but the boss had sent him on a mission. His job was to watch Costa. If he tried to talk to Gracie and Costa left without her, the boss would finish the job from last night himself. This was his opportunity. His chance to prove himself. It was too great an opportunity to waste.
But, she wouldn’t be a waste, would she? He could still see the club from where Gracie stood looking out over the greens. He could even see the parking lot and Costa’s car. What would be the harm?
No. What if Milano showed and Costa left with him. Franky might miss it. Might miss his chance to prove to Antonio to let him into the fold. Based on the events of last night, if Franky played his cards right, now would be the time to make his move. The powers were shifting. One of the families was going down, leaving only two in Vegas.
Franky ran his hand through his hair in frustration. It was too long, shaggy. He may be dressed in a monkey suit, but he stood out here, like this. What would Gracie see in him? She was polish and class. He still sported bruises from his old man and a bullet hole as an accessory. What he needed was a haircut. A haircut and time to let the bruises fade. A couple of weeks, maybe? He could wait that long. A suit that actually fit and didn’t choke him would be good, too. He could look at it as an investment.
Franky was a patient man. Two weeks was nothing. He made a mental checklist. Haircut. Suit. Healing. Learn Gracie’s likes and dislikes. That would be easy enough, too. Since he was following Costa, he would get to study Gracie.
This time when the door opened, Costa and his wife stepped out. Franky faded behind the tree, peeking out. Costa motioned for Gracie to join them. Gracie looked out once more over the course and touched the tree before joining them.
Frank practically skipped back to his car. A plan. Two weeks. In two weeks, he was going to meet Gracie. She just didn’t know it yet.
Chapter Twelve
Gray whirled around and took my arm, propelling me off the treadmill. My ears rang as the wall of glass made another popping sound. The ringing faded as the sound of rushing water filled the space. Thousands of gallons of water surged over us. My feet swept out from under me. Gray lost his grip on my arm. I flailed my arms, trying to find purchase, but my wet fingers slid off anything that I touched. I bumped along, hitting anything in my path and bouncing off of it only to be swept on. Each time I tried to breathe, water filled my lungs, leaving me coughing and gagging. The smell of chlorine burned my nose.
The wave washed me across the room and into the far wall. My shoulder took the impact as the water twisted me around. As quickly as it pushed me against the wall, it receded. I was left in a puddle, coughing up chlorinated water. Someone started slapping my back, forcing the water from my lungs. I coughed out water, choking as it came up. Someone called my name from far away. Water in my ears created a faded sound effect. Someone ran toward me, splashing more water in my face. I put up my hand to stop them. Passion grabbed ahold of it and lowered herself to my level. Her shoes and legs were wet, but the rest of her was dry. She had been out of the path of the initial flood.
An alarm blared louder as my hearing cleared. It wasn’t my ears ringing after all, but a warning system in the hotel. The doors flew open and security guards flooded in followed by Frank. Frank scanned the room, his eyes landing on Passion. A look of relief crossed his face. Gray stopped slapping my back after the last bit of water came up. I leaned against him in relief.
I refused a trip to the hospital, having spent way too much time in them lately. Frank insisted on an ambulance. The EMTs checked me over thoroughly. Other than some scrapes and bruises, I came out of the ordeal unscathed. We were finally released to leave after giving our statements to the policemen who responded to the call. Frank’s security team always close behind them.
Gray and I trudged through the hotel to get back to our room, leaving the mess behind. Lights flickered and machines dinged. The gambling went on around us. Nobody paid any attention as we left a trail of water. My shoes slurped and stuck to the carpet with every step. I wanted to take them off, but the thought off walking barefoot on the germ-covered floor gave me the willies. Gray halted our soggy parade by touching my arm.
“You may want to take care of that situation over there.” Gray pointed his finger toward the penny machines. I wasn’t up to take care of any situation.
I followed his line of sight.
An older woman was jumping up and down in front of a one-armed bandit, waving her arms in the air and screaming with an older gentleman standing next to her. The man I did not recognize, but the woman I knew very well.
“Grandma! What are you doing?” She stopped jumping and turned our way.
“Regan! I was hoping to run into you!” she said. She ran up and bussed my cheek with a loud kiss.
“Why didn’t you call me and tell me you were coming? What are you even doing here?”
“Oh, poo. I dropped my phone down the garbage disposal and then accidentally turned it on. Oops!” Grandma said. She hugged me and then pulled away. “Regan, you’re all wet. It’s very unbecoming.”
I ignored her comment, focusing on the cell from story. I didn’t believe it for a minute. Grandma may be old, but she was not clumsy. If her phone ended up in the garbage disposal, it was because that’s exactly where Grandma wanted it.
“I don’t think I buy your phone story. Does Mom know you’re here?” I asked.
“Of course not, I couldn’t call, remember?”
Oh, heck. She was on the lam. Gray was right. This was a situation.
“Why are you jumping up and down on a bad hip?” I wrapped my hand around her forearm, preventing her trying to escape me.
“I just won $2000! I love Las Vegas. I should move here. We old geezers need the heat to mummify us and the constant air conditioning to preserve us. I think I’ll do that. Come on, Norm. You’d let me stay with you, right?” Grandma grabbed the old man’s hand and started to leave. I tugged her back into place and blocked her exit with my body.
“Wait, Grandma. How did you get here and who is Norm?”
“I flew here, duh. I’m staying with Norm. I met him online.” Grandma raised her eyebrows suggestively.
My stomach rolled. I didn’t want to picture my elderly grandmother getting frisky with anyone, but especially not Norm. Between the two of them someone may smother to death from all of the loose skin.
“Grams, you have to come with me.” I turned to her companion. “Sorry, Norm.”
Gray covered his mouth with his hand to hide his smile. Norm shrugged his shoulders and moved on, waving over his shoulder to my grandmother.
“I’ll call you, honey!” Grams waved and yelled to Norm’s receding form. I looked to Gray for help, but he continued to contain his laughter.
“What’s so funny?” I asked him, my tone sharper than I intended.
“This is where you get it from.” Gray waved his hand to my grandma.
Grams insisted on collecting her winnings before going to my room. It took Gray and I ten minutes to find a payout station hidden amongst all the slot machines. People glanced our way, but no one commented on our sogginess. By the time we got Grams to the room, I was chafing in places I did
n’t want to think about from the wet clothing. I quickly showered and threw on a pair of gray pants and a floral top. I left my long hair to air dry for now. I’d regret it later when it was frizzy and the back of my shirt was soaking wet, but I needed to call home. And quickly.
I stared at the phone, dreading the call to my mom. The phone stared back mockingly. My grandma kept her on pins and needles. The woman acted helpless and feeble, but then destroyed anything and everything around her. She was a pot stirrer of the largest order. If she had the chance to cause a ruckus, she took it just to revel in the joy of the chaos. My sisters and I all received some of her spunky attitude. Individually, we were a lot to handle. All of us rolled into one, with a devil-may-care attitude and blue hair, made her almost unstoppable. I’m not talking old-lady-slightly-tinted blue hair, it’s punk-rock-band-lead-singer blue hair.
The burning in my lungs reminded me to breathe again. I let out the breath I’d been holding and took the plunge. I scrolled through my contacts, skipping over ‘Mom’ and going straight for the P’s. A new plan forming. Maybe I could call Peyton and then Peyton could call Mom? Brilliant! Mom was usually mad at Peyton anyway, so what was one more issue? The phone rang once before she picked up.
“What do you want?” Peyton asked.
“Did you know that Grandma is in Vegas?”
“Grandma who? Blue hair?” Peyton yawned into the phone.
“Yep. Blue hair.” Hey, we have to keep them straight somehow. Besides, our other grandma would give you the bird if you tried to remove her from the nursing home. She was more than happy to stay locked up there.
“That sounds like something she’d do. Keep her busy and out of trouble. I’ll call Mom and have her head your way to bring Blue Hair home.”
“That’s it?”
“I don’t have time for the ‘you do it, no you, beg cajole plead, fine I’ll do it’ conversation. I’ve got two small kids and one growing inside of me that keeps kicking my liver. This one is going to be the death of me, I just know it. Now, go zip-line on something or go shopping... JUST DON’T BREAK ANYTHING!”