ghost was lying on it.
Dana pulled her face out of the shag and looked up. “Oops.”
“No kidding.”
She stared at the ruined bed for a couple beats. Then turned to me. “So, what do you say, wanna go play roulette with me?”
I just rolled my eyes.
While Dana flipped on the casino channel to pick up more tips for delusional gamblers, I called down to the front desk. Slim Jim wasn’t there. Instead I got some woman named Shirley who informed me there were still no other rooms available in our “price bracket.” But she could send up another rollaway. Since my neck was still aching from the last rollaway I’d slept on, I declined.
Instead, I slipped out of my sexy skirt and thong, more than a little disappointed that I was taking it off myself instead of watching Ramirez do it with his teeth, and crawled into the double bed with Dana.
I was just drifting off into a well-deserved sleep when William Tell burst out from the region of my cell phone. I fumbled around in the dark.
“Hello?” I asked, steadfastly refusing to open my eyes.
I heard a couple sniffles and then Maurice’s voice came on the line. “Maddie? It’s Maurice.”
I sat up in bed. “What’s wrong?”
He sniffled again. “Nothing, nothing. I, uh, I just wanted to call and tell you that we’re holding a service for Hank tomorrow. I…I know he’d want you to come.” Maurice broke down, sobbing on the other end.
I suddenly felt twice as bad about zapping his dog. And I admit, I wasn’t quite sure what to say. It wasn’t as if I’d actually known Hank. To be honest, I didn’t even really know Larry. On the other hand, Hank had been Larry’s best friend. If Larry was going to come out of hiding at all, it would be to pay his last respects.
“What time?” I asked, grabbing a sheet of hotel stationery.
Maurice gave the wheres and whens of the service, then hung up with a sniffle and a sob. That poor man. I had a feeling he was going to need a saline transfusion if he carried on much more.
Well, I guess one thing could be said for my relationship with Ramirez. At least neither of us was dead.
I was deep into a dream starring Ramirez’s six-pack abs when I felt something smack me across my cheek. “Uhn.”
I opened one eye. Dana’s arm was covering my face. I pushed her off and got a foot in the stomach.
“Ow,” I whined.
Dana just grunted and mumbled something about “frontal assaults.” Then she turned over and elbowed me in the ribs.
Note to self: Never sleep with an Urban Soldierette. I glanced at the digital clock on the nightstand. 6:20 A.M. I groaned, but, due to the imminent risk of bruising, I rolled myself out from under my best friend and took my beaten body into the shower anyway.
I let the hot water rush over me and closed my eyes, trying to shake off the semi-coma state early mornings put me into. Today of all days, I needed my mind to be sharp. It was Wednesday, my last day in Vegas. Unless a) prices in the Marquis Suites plummeted into a reasonable (read “low rent”) rate, and b) Tot Trots miraculously decided to extend my deadline for the Rainbow Brite jellies designs (which I’d woefully neglected since I’d first gotten Larry’s message), I had only one day left to help Larry.
It was painfully clear at this point that I was in way over my blond little head. Whatever dealings Larry had stumbled into, I had little hope I that could get him out, especially when we threw Mafiosos into the mix. The best I could do was, as Ramirez had said, convince Larry to turn himself in. I hoped Larry showed up at the funeral, because I was running out of places to look.
As a concession to sleepless night number four, I put on my shortest skirt, highest heels, and more eye makeup than my mother. Or father, for that matter.
The look was a little on the slutty side but at least it distracted from the bags under my eyes (which were so big I was pretty sure they wouldn’t even qualify as carry-ons anymore). Ten minutes later I was dressed, blow- dried, and standing at the front desk before Slim Jim again.
“Checking out today?” he asked, searching behind me for a glimpse of Dana. Or, more accurately, Dana’s breasts.
“Yes, I am. And by the way, the bed’s broken in our room.”
He eyed me suspiciously. “How did that happen?”
I shrugged. “Search me.”
He contemplated the offer for about half a second. That is, until his eyes rested on my barely-B chest and decided I wasn’t worth the effort. “Fine. I’ll tell maintenance.”
“So any way I could get a discount for the broken bed?”
He gave me a look. “Don’t push it.”
I didn’t. Instead, I signed the bill (cringing just a little at the total), and told him we’d vacate the room by noon.
That done, I headed in the direction of the American Restaurant, hoping a big latte and an even bigger plate of pancakes with gooey maple syrup might help me wake up. I was halfway across the casino floor, picking my way through the fake trees and corridors of slot machines, when my cell chirped.
“Hello?” I answered.
It’s a universal truth that no matter how healthy our self esteem, we all have little quirks about ourselves we wish we could fix. Some people wish they could remember names better, others want to stop smoking or quit biting their nails. Me, I wished like hell that I’d learn to check the caller ID before picking up my phone.
“Maddie! I can’t believe you lied to me!”
Ugh. Mom. I rubbed at my temples (where, coincidentally, an instant headache had bloomed), wondering just which lie she’d caught me in this time. “Hi, Mom.”
“Maddie, how could you? Las Vegas? Las Vegas!”
Well, that answered that question. “Mom, it’s not what you think-”
“Oh, Maddie. After everything I’ve done for you! I raised you as a single parent, Maddie. A single parent! Oh, how could you do this to me…” She trailed off into a wail that belonged in an Alfred Hitchcock film and I heard the phone drop from her hands.
A second later Faux Dad came on the line. “Maddie?”
“Hi, Ralph. What’s going on?”
“Um, well, your picture was kind of in the
Again? I smacked my forehead with my palm. What was with those guys? It was one lousy boob! “What was it this time? Wait, don’t tell me. I’m engaged to a Martian, right?”
“Actually…” He paused, clearing his throat. “There was a story about you getting involved in another murder case. In Las Vegas. There’s a picture of you outside some club called the Victoria.”
I shut my eyes and thought a really dirty word. They had to pick
“Listen,” Faux Dad continued. “I know how these papers get their facts mixed up sometimes. And I remember how they glued your head onto Pamela Anderson’s body when they said you were getting engaged to Bigfoot. So…” He trailed off.
God love him, he was giving me a nice out. But for some reason I was having a hard time taking it. Truth was, I felt funny discussing this whole Larry thing with Faux Dad at all. Ever since he and Mom had started dating, Ralph had filled the role of father figure in a way I never thought anyone would. Okay, so I was a little old for trips to the zoo with him, but he did give me all the free manicures I wanted at his salon. In my book, that spelled love. Just by being here, I almost felt like I was betraying him somehow.
Luckily I didn’t have to answer as Mom grabbed the phone away again.
“How could you betray me like this?” she sobbed.
Oh, brother. I rolled my eyes.
“Mom. I’m sorry. But I had to come.”
“You lied to me, Maddie. Lied!”
“Excuse me,” I said, putting hands on hips, “but
