Embracing Ellie: K&S Securities Series

by A. J. Andersen

  When the car returns to the front of the casino, I pass the driver the appropriate amount of bills, along with a tip, and step out into the cool night air. It’s pleasant. In Spokane the nights would already be much colder. Since Xavier has asked us to stay and help update security and Travis is already considering relocating permanently, we’ll have the winter to get ready for the more extreme heat that I know summer will bring. Strolling inside, I head for the bar; might as well get a drink before heading up to my room for the night.

  Besides, I can’t resist checking to see if that shithead manager is there harassing the female staff again.

  I take the same seat at the bar that I sat in yesterday; it’s the best vantage point for seeing the entire room, and I like knowing what’s going on around me. The bartender gives me a short nod, acknowledging my presence before going back to pouring drinks for the group seated directly in front of him. I liked Tina, but I’m relieved that she isn’t here tonight. Being propositioned by her once was enough.

  Lawrence struts out of the kitchen wearing the same smug smile on his florid face as he approaches a tall, slender redhead, dressed in a waitress uniform, standing at the end of the bar with an empty tray in her hand. The look of disgust on her face as she watches him approach tells me everything I need to know.

  “Excuse me,” I say, standing up and follow him down the length of the bar. He glances back at me briefly, before dismissing me and refocuses his attention on his target. Her red hair is pulled back in a severe bun. Her lips are pinched in a tight angry line, her eyes hard and glaring, never wavering from him. She may not need me to intervene, so I return to my seat, hoping that I’m about to see the pompous man knocked down a peg or two. The bartender comes over and instead of my usual bourbon I order a draft beer and sit down to watch what unfolds.

  I don’t have to wait long.

  Her sharp voice cuts through the crowded bar. “Keep your damn hands to yourself, Larry!”

  From the opposite end of the bar I can see his ruddy face flush dark with anger. He leans in closer to her whispering something that only she can hear. She visibly recoils from his proximity to her and takes a small step back, putting space back between them.

  I’m convinced she’s projecting her voice intentionally when it rings out over the noise in the lounge for a second time, “Not even in your wildest dreams, Larry,” I take it he doesn’t like to be called Larry, “You know full well I don’t play for your team and neither does my girlfriend, so quit asking!”

  Larry takes a stumbling step backward, glancing around to see who has been listening. Newsflash! It’s everyone. Every single eye in the place is concentrated on him. The redhead smirks. She knows exactly what she’s done. Bravo!

  Scowling he slaps a hand down on the bar top. “Mind your business,” he snaps loudly, spinning on his heel and hurrying away faster than I expected a man of his size to move.

  “Nicely done, Heather,” the bartender hoots after all eyes have followed the irate manager back to his office, where he slams the door shut behind him. It’s good to see that he isn’t able to bully everyone.

  The slim redhead lifts her clasped hands into the air and does a small victory dance, a bright smile wreathing her face. Applause starts with the other servers and is quickly taken up by the tipsy patrons. She makes an exaggerated curtsy before waving at the crowd and picking up a heavy tray of drinks. Laughing and responding to customers, she makes her way toward the gaming tables on the casino floor.

  Sipping my beer, I smile into the frosty glass. Getting rid of Ellie’s tormentor is going to be a walk in the park. The guy seems to be universally hated by everyone on staff. Getting people to talk about what he’s been doing should be easy. When the bartender leans against the counter near me with a lift of his chin I grin.

  “That was interesting,” I say. He nods, mulling over how he wants to respond.

  “Just another day working with Larry,” I notice that he shortens the guy’s name in an irreverent tone as well.

  “He seems like a real prick.” I encourage, wanting as much dirt as I can get.

  “I’m just glad that I’m a dude ‘cause he leaves guys alone.” He quirks an eyebrow and motions toward my almost empty glass. “Want another?”

  Tipping up the cold glass I swallow the last of the earthy brew before setting it back down in front of me. Maybe getting dirt on Larry is going to be harder than I thought.

  “I’m good. Thanks.” I tell him, reaching for my wallet. Even though the bartender didn’t want to talk trash about his boss, which is a positive in my opinion, I’m feeling good about what I saw tonight. It should be easy enough to locate the encounter on the security tapes so I can show Xavier. If I can present enough evidence to Xavier with employee statements and what has been caught on the security cameras, I can at least make sure that he won’t be in a position of authority over anyone he can harass.

  Chapter Eight

  Ellie

  I keep seeing him around Luminoso. Blake. I swear that he’s the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen in real life. Is it okay to call a man beautiful? I hope so, because there is no other word that does him justice… well maybe, perfection. I’m not the only one who notices him either. I’ve heard housekeepers and waitresses, and not just the women, talking about him.

  Blake seems to be everywhere in the casino. I see him every day while I’m at work, busy looking into everything. I’ve seen him talking with Mr. Cerelli and Geno Rossi, the head of casino security, as well as with Travis. I’m not sure what they are doing, but they seem to be inspecting everything in the building.

  I’ve seen Ana around, usually with Faye in tow, but always just in passing because I’m always in a hurry, trying to get my work done so that I can get home to help Mom with Auggie. He seems to be getting past the worst of the cold that turned him into a little monster who refused to do what he was told. Thank goodness. He was bratty enough to try the patience of a saint, and I’m definitely not one of those. I had to walk away more than once when his crabby attitude tempted me to swat his little diaper covered bottom.

  I’m lost in my thoughts about Blake, which seems to be my new normal, when I push my cart of supplies from the service elevator. I’ve never been asked to clean this floor before. Probably because it’s one of the upper levels. Fancy suites and actual apartments occupy the higher levels in the building. Usually this floor is unoccupied or used for housing Mr. Cerelli’s personal guests. It’s where Faye and Travis are staying. Usually Ms. Smith does the required cleaning for this floor and the penthouse by herself, but she called out sick today. That was a little weird, she never misses work, but someone in charge decided that I could handle the responsibility, so here I am.

  Unsure where to start, I go to the door of the honeymoon suite. That’s where Faye has been staying. It’s not really a suite. It’s a small apartment that is geared toward newlyweds who are staying for a while. It has a big fancy bathtub and a huge bed. At least that’s what I’ve heard. I reach up and knock loudly on the door to announce myself and the door is almost immediately yanked open by a grinning Faye.

  “Hi, Ellie!” Her face is still battered, it hasn’t been nearly long enough for injuries like that to heal, but it is looking a tiny bit better now.

  “Hey, Faye,” I return her smile awkwardly. Knowing what to say to people has never been something that I’m comfortable with, that was always Lizzie’s strength. Her people skills that made up for my tendency to be introverted since she always acted as a buffer between me and what, for me, were uncomfortable social situations.

  “I was sent up to do the cleaning,” I tell her shyly, hoping to fill the gap in the silence.

  “Oh, that’s great! I totally need something to do before I go crazy.” Her eyes sparkle in her bruised face. She means it. “Travis is off with the boys working on the security upgrade for Xavier and Travis insists that I need to be taking it easy I’ve mostly been sitting here by myself watching bad daytime TV. Ana has
been so busy with baby stuff since they found out she’s having twins that she hasn’t been able to hang out either.

  I make a sympathetic sound, but inside my mind is reeling with happiness for my friend, Twins! Before I can respond she continues.

  “It’s not like I want to go out looking like this anyway,” She motions to the multicolored bruises on her face with a disgruntled look. “Might scare small children.”

  I snort-laugh and quickly slap a hand over my mouth to stifle my giggles. I hope I don’t offend her. “Sorry,” I gasp. “This is a casino. There are no kids here. Not many anyway.”

  Faye laughs too, making me feel better about my inappropriate mirth. “Good point,” she says, “I didn’t think of that. It’s still probably better if I keep a low profile until I look less like a swamp monster and more like a person again.”

  I don’t even try to contain my laughter this time, “You look like a very pretty swamp monster, if that’s any consolation.”

  “I like you Ellie,” she snickers, ushering me further inside with my cleaning supplies, “I will like you even more if you will give me something to do so I don’t die of boredom.” She sighs dramatically. I don’t know what happened that left her in such bad shape, but she is amazing! I think I’d be huddled in my bed feeling sorry for myself if I was as beat up as she is.

  “I know you’re wondering what happened to me.”

  I shrug, attempting to act casual, like I hadn’t literally just been thinking that, “It’s none of my business.”

  “That’s ok, I’ve got nothing to hide. I got kidnapped by some bad people, then an even worse one got ahold of me and…” she motions to herself again, but seriously this time. “This was the result. I’m lucky to be alive. Thank God Travis found me when he did, or who knows what would have happened.”

  Her smile fades for the first time since I’ve seen her. Seeking to help I reach out a careful hand and I touch her arm lightly, “But he did, and you are okay. Mostly anyway, right?”

  She nods and pulls her composure back in place along with her smile. “Okay!” She claps her hands together once, “Let’s grab a couple sodas out of the fridge and get to work.”

  I know that I should argue and refuse to let her help, but it’s nice to be with someone close to my own age who is easy to be around. Most of the women I work with are either much older or are my age and all wrapped up in the party scene the city has to offer. I’m not interested in clubbing. I have too many obligations to waste time and money that way.

  The small kitchen is already spotless when I join her at the small grey-tiled counter dividing the kitchen area from the rest of the small apartment. I can’t help but look around, wondering what I’m actually going to need to clean. I know Faye notices my observation because she chuckles as she hands me a can of diet cola and motions for me to follow her to the tidy sitting room. The TV is on playing a music station almost inaudibly in the background.

  “There’s not much to do. I’ve sort of already done it all,” she admits, “but I do want to put clean sheets on the bed, and we need fresh towels and stuff for the bathroom.

  Quickly, I set my cold can on the coffee table and move toward the door.

  “Not right now, silly. Let’s chat for a few minutes before you go get everything.” Nodding, I sit down where she indicates and pick up my can, popping the top and taking a small sip. We had to stop buying them when Lizzie got home because once she starts drinking them it’s hard to get her to stop.

  “This is so good. It’s been a while since I’ve had one.” I don’t know why I blurt it out, but I do, then I wait nervously to see if Faye thinks I’m weird.

  “I’ve hardly had soda since I was sixteen,” she tells me. “Special occasions only.” She smiles like we are sharing a secret and it makes me feel good. Like this counts as a special occasion.

  “That long?” I ask. She nods. Before I can wonder if it would be an overreach to ask why she answers my unspoken question.

  “I was pretty poor, and the place I waited tables at was cheap. They let us have a sandwich or something small, but we were limited to water or the toxic coffee if we didn’t want to pay for a drink out of our tips or wages. I needed my money, so I drank water.”

  “I would have too,” I tell her. Taking a chance, I continue, “My sister was in a bad car accident about two years ago. She suffered a traumatic brain injury that makes it hard for her to have good impulse control and she likes soda. A lot. So we had to stop bringing it into the house.”

  “Oh, that’s terrible.” She says, and it sounds like she means it. “Couldn’t you have it here?”

  “It is what it is. Most days are fine, just different than they were before, and drinking it at work when we don’t allow her to just feels… unfair. So I don’t.” Even though I’m the one who brought it up I don’t want to talk about it anymore, so I take another sip of my beverage to fill the small silence. When I set the can down our conversation moves to lighter topics, mostly what it’s like to grow up in a wild city like Las Vegas. Not that I have had any experience with the wild side of Las Vegas living. Faye lived in a suburban neighborhood in New York until she was a teenager and then she was on her own. She doesn’t give much detail. I guess we both have things that we’d rather not talk about.

  After a little while I start to feel guilty. I’m being paid to work right now, not talk with Mr. Cerelli’s guests. Rising to my feet I tell Faye, “I’ll be right back. I’m going to go get some linens.” She stands with me, her hand pressing against her side with a wince, and picks up our empty cans and carries them to the kitchen, placing them in the recycling bin under the sink.

  Opening the door on my way to the linen room, I’m startled by Blake stepping through the door directly across the hall. His eyes are focused on the phone in his hand. He doesn’t see me until I take a step backward into the apartment, trying to hide from him. He looks up, slipping his phone into the pocket of his jeans and turning the full power of his brilliant smile in my direction.

  “Ellie.” He booms, his eyes crinkling up at the corners, “Fancy meeting you here.”

  I don’t know why, but I get the feeling that somehow, he knew exactly where I was.

  “Hello.” I offer, dropping my gaze to the glossy wood flooring under my feet, trying to ignore him as I hurry past him on my way to the housekeeping room at the end of the hall.

  “You up here working?” I can hear the good humor in his voice. It’s nice. He’s not being mean, just teasing me a little, I think.

  “Yes. Faye asked for clean towels and sheets, so I’m getting them for her.” I reply.

  He matches his long strides to my much shorter ones, following me down the empty corridor then waiting while I pull the key out of my dress pocket and put it in the lock. It sticks. I jiggle it impatiently and try again. I know this is the right key! Why won’t it work? Pulling it out I go to try again and his big rough hand surrounds mine with heat.

  “Here,” he offers, “let me try.”

  Warm tingles radiate up my arm from the innocent contact and I quickly release the key and withdraw my hand.

  “Thanks.” I mumble. I try to move to let him get closer, but I’m caged in the circle of his arms as he turns the key in the lock. Of course, it opens easily for him. Figures. Shaking off my mild annoyance I smile my thanks and slip inside, heading straight to the cabinet that holds what I’m here for. All the housekeeping areas are set up the same to help us be as efficient as possible, even when we work on a different floor. Ms. Smith is nothing if not efficient.

  Quickly pulling out what I need, I think to ask, “Does your room need clean linens?” I may as well have them ready if I’m going to need them.

  “That would be great,” he rejoins, moving past me to the cupboard I just turned away from. “You will not be cleaning up after me though. I can do it myself.”

  “But it’s my job,” I protest.

  “It will never be your job to pick up after me, Ellie,” he
stares into my eyes intently, making my cheeks burn.

  “O... okay,” I say, confused by the undercurrent of something I can’t put my finger on resonating in his voice. “Here you go then?” It comes out as a question. I hold out the stack of linens but he doesn’t move to take them.

  “Could you help me?” he asks, “it’s easier to make a bed with two people.” He’s not wrong, but I make beds alone every day, so it’s not that hard.

  “Ummm, sure… but I have to go help Faye first.” He closes the door behind us and I scurry back to Faye’s apartment with my arms full.

  “I’ll be right here whenever you’re ready,” he calls behind me, stopping at the entrance to his place. Faye is standing right inside her door, a knowing grin spreading across her face as she takes in my flushed cheeks and Blake’s presence behind me. She plucks a pile of sheets and towels from my arms.

  “Go help Blake first, so he can get back to work,” she says, “I’ve got nothing but time.”

  Knowing that despite what he said earlier it is, in fact, my job to pick up after him, I turn and follow him inside his small apartment. It’s not as fancy as Faye and Travis’, but still very nice.

  “I’ll just be a couple minutes,” I say, stepping past him and heading toward the open bedroom door. The hint of masculine soap and aftershave tickles my nose and I inhale deeply, trying to capture every last bit of the scent. My nipples tighten behind the bodice of my stiff grey dress as I breathe it in again, trying not to be obvious about it, just in case he follows me to the bedroom.

  Mentally shaking my head at my behavior and my body’s involuntary response, I cross to the unmade bed and quickly fold the bedspread so I can set it aside and strip the sheets off the pillows and the mattress. His intoxicating scent swirls around me and I bite back a moan as heat floods my body.

  Why is his smell doing this to me? It makes me want to lay down in his bed and wrap myself in it! Just ignore it. You’ll be done soon. I encourage myself. The feelings rioting inside my body are different from anything I’ve ever felt before. It’s embarrassing and unprofessional.