by Kelly Wood
“Where was Bianchi in all of this?”
“He was around, but his heart wasn’t in it any longer. Look, I gotta go.”
“I read that his son disappeared. Was that it?”
“I think so. He loved all of his boys fiercely, but especially that one. Guy was special. There was something magical about him. People just liked to be near him. I know when he sat at my table for a night playing blackjack, I’d leave lighter, happier. I can’t explain it. That man had what others refer to as star quality.”
“What happened to him?”
“Nobody knows. Well, somebody does, but nobody else has ever found out. Bianchi turned over the business to Frank and within two years he was dead. Most around him said he died of a broken heart. I’d hear the men at the table discuss Antonio.”
“The book said that Costa left town. Why would the author think that? And, why would the book suggest the mob was no longer in Vegas if that clearly is not true?”
“Last question, I need to leave. Costa did leave town. For a while. He came back with a new last name and an altered face. People didn’t look too closely. He and Frank cleaned up the businesses and made them look pretty. As long as others didn’t look too closely, for all intents and purposes, they are what they seemed; rich and powerful business men.” Vivian pushed her chair back and rose from the table. “My advice, don’t look too closely, honey. Thanks for the coffee.”
Vivian’s parting words had touched my innermost psyche. They were words that I should take to heart. My sister, Peyton, would say that they were words I lived by. That I only saw what I wanted to see. That I glossed over the surface. Most of the time that was true. But, every once in a while, something struck a chord in me. Something that I couldn’t let go of. This was one of those times.
While I appreciated Vivian’s time, she left me with more questions. She said Costa left and came back with a new name. Who was he now? Would I be able to find him? Did I want to find him? I didn’t need him for an interview. It was just an old story. The one question that was weighing on my interest, what happened to Guy Bianchi? That one I would have loved to know the answer. It would make a great side story to the hotel remodel.
I drove back to the hotel. I sent up a quick prayer Gray was able to handle Grams and Passion together. I weaved through the crowds in the hotel lobby. Some TV personality stood in the corner speaking into a camera. Up close, her face looked frozen in place. Behind her, a barrier stood blocking the entrance to the workout room hallway. I caught bits and pieces of her dialogue as I waited for the elevator.
“...pool flooded the facility. Crew are working feverishly to correct the problem before the opening night gala. This follows yesterday’s news report about a man who jumped from one of the hotel balconies...”
I stood in front of the elevator doors, pushing the up button multiple times. I knew it didn’t make the elevator come faster, but the action itself helped with my nerves. The doors opened, people flooding out. The hum of conversation blocked out the rest of the news report.
Multiple police officers exited the building with an elderly woman walking in the center. She stood tall and straight. As tall as an eighty-something could, anyway.
Chapter Fourteen
Franky July 1988
Franky ran his hand through his hair to smooth it down. The new, shorter haircut, felt weird to him. His whole life he had been the ratty kid with overgrown hair and dirty clothes. Today, he could’ve fit in as one of the Bianchi boys’ cousins. Frank resisted the urge to scratch, the new clothes left him feeling itchy. The pants were tight around the waist, but the sales lady swore that these were in style. The matching jacket was loose through the shoulders. Franky had insisted on a size larger in case he had another growth spurt in him. Long gone was the rangy kid with pencil-thin arms and legs. Franky could pass for a grown man now, well beyond his years.
For the last month, Franky had used the extra muscle and size to prove himself with Bianchi. Antonio still took to calling him Dickweed now and again, but usually, it was shortened to Franky DW. Franky had a good month pulling in money, hustling up new jobs and driving Antonio around. Today the hustling was going to pay off.
Besides hustling, Franky spent the last month learning everything he could about Eva Grace Williams. Some of the information came through his snooping, but most came from their lunches together. Their first meeting had been an awkward starting and stopping of conversation, but they spoke more freely now. Franky pretended to “accidentally” bump into her at the country club and a friendship was born. Grace was seventeen and preferred to be called Gracie. An only child, orphaned when her parents died in a car accident, her cousin Mary Francis, offered to take her in. From what Franky could gather through rumors on the streets, Mrs. Costa had a love/hate relationship with Gracie. Mary Francis was just as beautiful, if not more so than Gracie. But Gracie was kind. Genuinely kind. People were attracted to her because of it and it irked Mary Francis to no end. No matter how hard Mary Francis pretended, she would never be described as kind. Nice? Eh, maybe. Kind? Never. Kindness came from the heart. It was an act that Mary Francis would never be able to perfect.
Franky learned through the Costa’s driver, Gracie liked to sit in the park by the country club to have lunch. She never ordered her food from the club, but rather packed a lunch daily. Franky found it endearing. Having grown up poor, a peanut butter sandwich filled the belly just as well as snooty food. That’s how he thought of the country club food, anyway. Snooty. Guy Bianchi would bring him here sometimes for a meal on his dad. Franky always felt out of place and uncomfortable. Like he was wearing a bright sign announcing he didn’t belong.
Franky shouldn’t be too hard on them. Thanks to driving Antonio here and dining with Guy sometimes, nobody realized that he didn’t belong when he met Gracie in the park. Franky watched Gracie now as she sat on a blanket. She looked lost in thought gazing at a faraway point. Franky could sneak up on her, and she wouldn’t even notice. He smoothed his hair one more time and headed her way. He’d saved up for the new clothes and haircut. He wanted to look his best today. Today was the day Franky hoped to move their relationship from friends to something more. He practiced his speech one more time in his head before finding the nerve to speak. His plan had come together at the two-week mark, just as he hoped. With one last deep breath of encouragement, Franky found the nerve to speak.
“Hey, Gracie.”
Gracie jolted out of whatever place her mind had taken her. Up close she was breathtaking. Franky started to sweat underneath his new leisure suit. Even after weeks of meeting her for lunch, he was still nervous around her.
“Good afternoon.” Her voice was like velvet washing over Franky and warming his heart. Franky loved her already. His heart beat harder as his nerves escalated.
“Do you mind if I join you? A beautiful woman should never dine alone.” Gracie blushed. The rosiness in her cheeks enhanced her beauty. Franky used the same line every time. He’d be heartbroken if she ever turned him down.
“Yes, sit, please.” Gracie scooted over to the edge of the blanket. Her hair was shorter than the preferred style now. She kept it shoulder-length. It looked lighter than the time that Franky had seen her at the show. Of course, that was a month ago and at night. Under the neon lights, everyone looked different. She looked down and picked at her sandwich, pulling off bite-sized pieces and putting them in her mouth slowly. Peanut butter oozed over the sides of the bread.
“How have your days been?” Franky never confirmed or denied his membership at the club when she had asked the first time he joined her for lunch. He let the insinuation that his presence alone gave him every right to be here. Gracie was a woman too good for a lowly driver to have a shot at being with her. Even if that driver worked for one of the biggest names in town.
“I’ll never adapt to this heat. It never got this hot back home.” She smoothed out the fabric of the dress. The dress was simple by Vegas standards, homemade. A stark contr
ast to the glamorous outfit he’d seen her in the first time. She lifted her hair off her neck, letting the slight breeze reach it. “How do you handle the heat wearing a suit? It’s just got to be torture.”
Franky shrugged off the jacket, exposing a short-sleeved shirt underneath. If he’d known she was so sensible, he would’ve ditched the jacket from the start.
“Thank you.” Franky sighed with relief when the breeze blew again. “Why do you prefer the outside?”
“I’m not from around here, as you well know. Back home, well, my old home, I spent most days outside. I like it here, at the club, because the grass reminds me of home. I’d never realized just how brown the desert is.”
Franky looked around at the grass and trees. Everything just looked green to him. What was so special about green? He glanced up at the mountains in the distance. Varying shades of browns and reds and blues stood out to him. He’d never considered Nevada to be beautiful or not. It was just what he was used to seeing. But, he definitely didn’t understand needing to see green.
“I’ve never thought about it before. Huh. I’ve always lived here.” Franky pulled his sandwich out of the bag.
“Oh. What exactly do you do again for work?” Gracie had asked him every time they’d met. Franky was running out of ways to dodge the question.
“Um, this and that. I work for a hotel on the Strip.” It was only a half lie. He did work for the owner of a hotel on the Strip, just not doing anything that the owner would want broadcast. “What about you, Gracie? You find something yet to fill your time?”
“Mary Frances and Garrett want me to take my time and adjust to Las Vegas first before making a life decision.”
Maybe Franky was wrong about Mary Francis. Giving Gracie time to adjust seemed like a kind move to him.
“That is nice. What do you think so far?” Franky asked.
“I don’t know. It’s... very different from the Midwest. I don’t know how to describe it. Not just the weather, but the people. Here, people want to be seen. There, people just go about their day. I guess, it’s just an adjustment to being looked at, and watched.”
Franky couldn’t imagine Gracie not being noticed, even back in the boring Midwest. He wanted to reach over and touch her. He wanted to see her again, on a real date, but how to ask? Or should he keep running into her for now? He could find another way to see her. Maybe even go to one of the shows that the Bianchis loved to buy tickets for and then ditch out? They couldn’t be that bad. Franky took a deep breath to work up the nerve. His heart beat faster, but he decided to take the plunge and ask. If she said no, he would still ‘bump’ into her now and again for lunch, and one day she’d say yes to a date. He knew it because he wouldn’t give up until she did.
“Gracie—”
Gracie stopped him with a quick inhalation of breath. Franky looked up in shock, hoping she wasn’t in pain. He couldn’t see any obvious injuries on her, so Franky followed her line of sight.
Guy Bianchi walked toward them from the clubhouse. Guy wore shorts that had once been long pants. The frayed edges hung down from where the material had been cut. A white t-shirt covered his chest, but his physique was clearly visible. Guy walked with the grace of a natural athlete, all fluid motion. Unlike Franky, who jerked and halted his movements.
Guy was supposed to be on Lake Mead all day with his brothers. Franky envied Guy for many reasons, but today, it was how Guy looked cool and comfortable compared to Franky’s suit. And how Guy still looked like he belonged here even dressed for boating while Franky stuck out. Franky hid his discomfort with a smile and a wave.
“Who is that?” Gracie asked, fanning herself with her left hand. She sat up straighter and smoothed out her dress again. Franky noticed the charge in the air and frowned.
Franky waited for Guy to get a little closer before answering her so he could introduce them, even though he didn’t want to.
“Guy Bianchi meet Gracie. Gracie, Guy.” Frank choked the words out. He thought frantically about how to get rid of Guy and salvage what little time he had left with Gracie. He definitely couldn’t ask her out with Guy standing here. He cringed at the ribbing he would receive from all of the brothers.
“It’s a pleasure. You’re the Costas’ niece, right?” Guy made himself at home next to Gracie. Franky begrudgingly moved aside to make room. Franky rested his weight on his hand, now firmly planted on the grass since Guy sat down.
“Cousin, Mary’s to be precise.” Grace blushed but never broke eye contact with Guy.
“Cousin, right. How about I show you the town? It must be hard to be new somewhere.”
“That sounds lovely. When?”
“Now?”
Franky’s hand squeezed into a fist. The sound of tearing grass reached his ears even though they were ringing in fury. Of course, Guy made asking a beautiful woman out that easy. Franky missed his shot trying to be polite and make small talk.
“Okay,” Gracie said.
Franky cleared his throat. “Um, Guy, we were just finishing up lunch...” Franky tried to interject. Both Guy and Gracie ignored him. They stared into each other’s eyes, unmoving. Franky wanted to stick his hand in between their faces and yell, “Yoo hoo!” Not that either would notice.
Franky nudged Guy in the shoulder, hard.
“Why are you here?” Franky asked.
Guy turned his attention toward Franky. “Dad needs you. We stopped here for lunch on the way to find you.”
“He needs me now?”
“Yes.” Guy turned his back on Franky, clearly dismissing him. “So, Gracie...”
Franky tuned him out. He wanted to send Guy on his way and continue his talk with Gracie, but Antonio came first. As much as Franky wanted Gracie, she wouldn’t get him out of his crappy life, but Antonio could. He had to keep his priorities straight.
Frank gathered his lunch and stood to leave. He stared down at the two, laughing and flirting. He debated interrupting to say goodbye, but what was the point? Frank walked across the grass looking back only once at what might have been. He couldn’t even be mad at Guy. What man wouldn’t be attracted to Gracie?
Chapter Fifteen
Relief flooded through me when I realized it wasn’t my grandma being arrested. She had the potential in her, so I’d been scared for a moment until I’d seen the woman’s face. Even though she looked nothing like Grams, my mind hand jumped to that conclusion. I turned away and entered the elevator. Before the doors closed another couple jumped on. I stepped back, giving them room.
“She pushed him. They said so on the news,” the woman said.
“There’s no way. Did you see how frail she is? And short? The balcony walls come up to my elbow. There is no way she’s got enough strength and inertia to get him up and over the edge,” the man answered.
“We’ll see. If she isn’t at fault then why did they arrest her?”
“Innocent until proven guilty,” the man pointed out.
“Yeah, right.”
I could see the woman roll her eyes in the mirrored surface of the elevator doors. I ignored them for the rest of the ride as their conversation drifted to their plans for the evening. The doors opened to my floor and music filled the hallway. I ran to my room with dread.
I popped open the door and stared in shock. My mouth hung slack. The furniture was pushed aside to make room for a dance floor. The music was deafening as bodies pulsed to the beat. Somehow, my grandmother had made forty friends who were wiggling like Jell-O in front of me.
“Regan!”
I turned to see Passion heading my way. She carried a yard of margarita in one hand and a tray full of cookies in the other. As she got closer, the smell hit me. I knew those homemade cookies. I loved those homemade cookies. It could only mean one thing.
Mom was here.
Passion answered my unasked question with a bob of her head. She jerked her neck to indicate that I should follow her into the kitchen area. My mother was probably the first person to use it. Who e
lse would come to Las Vegas, stay in a suite, and then cook?
My mom measured flour into a large mixing bowl. She already had handprint flour streaks across the side of her jeans. She looked right at home. The once-large suite was feeling more claustrophobic by the minute.
I pulled out a bar stool and watched my mom knead the dough. She was perfectly happy and in her element. My mother lived to feed people. Even strangers.
“Um, who are all of these people? Why are you having a party? How did Mom get here so soon? And, most importantly, where is Gray?” I asked Passion.
Passion laughed. Her head flung back and she laughed with her whole body, all the while moving her hips to the music. I may have mocked her name choice but it really fit her well. Everything she did, she did it full of passion. There was no halfway for her. I envied her that sometimes. She never seemed afraid of anything. When she gets proposed to, I would bet that she’d be married within twenty minutes. It was just her style.
“Okay, how about in order. These are my friends. And some friends of friends. To celebrate Mom’s victory. She was here, in Vegas already, for a poker tournament. She won! Yay!” Passion threw her hands in the air and did a spin. “Lastly, Gray is on an errand. I think it’s cute that you thought he could handle us.” Passion cocked her head to the side and sipped her frozen margarita. I ignored her and turned to my mother.
“Mom, why does Grandma think she snuck out if you were here the whole time?”
“She did sneak out. You just assumed it was from home. It worked out well for me. I could concentrate on the game since I knew you had her. And I won!” She threw her hands up, mimicking Passion’s movement, sending white powder everywhere.
“This was all a ploy? To what? Get me to babysit? Why didn’t you just ask?”