It had been years since she’d seen the black-eyed, blonde witch. The woman was in your face pushy, wore no make up, save for blood red lipstick, which, combined with her bottomless black eyes, told one and all this was a person you didn’t want on your bad side.
Rumors seemed to follow Tucker Wayne and his rogue of a father, Mansfield, like the plague, but they’d never been arrested and the Nevada gaming commission found no fault with them, even though those who opposed them had the nasty habit of meeting death in an untimely manner. But Izzy knew the truth, because she’d overheard Tucker’s confession back then, just before she’d saved his life.
She shouldn’t have listened.
She was a good Catholic.
But she couldn’t help herself.
She’d seen the priest as she’d entered the room. Heard Tucker say the words, “Bless me Father for I have sinned.” And she’d backed out, but stayed by the door. His last confession had been twenty years ago, but now, apparently, he felt the need. Apparently, he hadn’t trusted Izzy’s skill with a scalpel.
She’d known about the Wayne’s wealth. She’d known about their casinos. She’d known about the rumors, but she was a surgeon, it wasn’t her job to prequalify her patients. Besides, the rumors were nothing more than that, rumors. But, after hearing what she shouldn’t have, she’d known they were true and she’d wondered if what she was doing was ethical, wasting a perfectly healthy heart on a man like Tucker Wayne.
Confession finished, she’d moved away from the door, deciding it was time to check on her other patients. It seemed like there was a never ending stream of them back then. And back then she’d wanted nothing more than some time to herself. What she wouldn’t give to go back. Life sucked when you got what you wished for.
But back then she was the lady with the magic hands. God’s gift to Saint Catherine’s. She’d been overworked, overstressed and underpaid. She’d been tired of her life, wanted out, wanted to live again, wanted to love again. Well, she’d gotten out, but she’d found no love and her life sure as heck wasn’t anything to write home about.
Cancer, five years it had raged through her body, but it wouldn’t kill her and she couldn’t kill herself. So she fought it, but now both she and her doctors knew she was coming to the end of the line. Still, she couldn’t give up. God had a reason for giving her the pain and for keeping her alive. What it was, only He knew.
It was because of her belief in Him that she hadn’t let Tucker Wayne die on the table, though looking back, she wished she had. But how could she have known Amy would fall for him, be swept off her feet by him?
At the bottom of the escalator, finally, she moved around the huge, almost naked Adam and headed for the even larger vampire guarding the ballroom door.
“ No costume,” the big vampire said.
“ No ticket either,” she said.
“ And no entry for you,” the vampire said.
“ Look at me. I’m seventy-seven years old. I have cancer and most likely won’t see Christmas. Do you really think I’m going in there to dance the night away?”
He met her eyes straight on, without looking away.
“ No, I guess not.” He gave her a sad smile. “You gonna cause trouble?”
“ Trouble is what I'm here to stop.”
“ Want your hand stamped?”
“ Heaven’s no.”
“ Good luck.” He stepped aside.
Amy Eisenhower wasn’t gay, not really. But she had to admit she enjoyed Alicia’s kisses, the feel of her lips on her own, the feel of her skin, the feel of her breasts. It was confusing and it sent her skin all a tingle. They’d only kissed once before, when they were naked in bed together at Tucker’s. She’d needed him to see, needed to get caught, because there was no way he’d let her go for any other reason. If it had been a man, Tucker would have had him killed and if she’d told him there was nobody else, that she just wasn’t in love with him, he’d never be satisfied, he’d never let her alone.
But a woman, especially a pretty one, that Tucker could forgive. It was the only way. All she’d needed was a pretty girl to help her out. But who would do that for her, take the risk? When she told her friend Alicia Devon she wanted to get caught in bed with a woman, so her boyfriend would let her go without a scene, Alicia got it straightaway, recognized the danger as soon as Amy told her Tucker’s name. But to her credit, she did it anyway.
Alicia was in her French Lit class and, like Amy, a junior at UNR. She paid her bills working as a stripper at the Men’s Club. She was beautiful, with the kind of looks men swooned over, fought over, killed for. She was also gay, which was why working at the Men’s Club bothered her not a bit.
They picked a night when Tucker was supposed to be in Seattle, but they knew he wouldn’t be, because earlier in the day Amy had gone by Tucker’s office to get a paper copied and she’d overheard Tucker’s receptionist telling someone on the phone that he was coming back tonight, instead of tomorrow.
She called Alicia and told her the news.
“ So tonight’s the big night?” she’d said.
“ Yeah, I suppose so.” Thinking back, Amy realized she’d been not only afraid, but unsure if Tucker would let her go, even if he believed she was gay. She needed insurance, so she’d gone back to the office and lucky for her, the receptionist had gone home. She’d used Tucker’s spare key, logged on to his computer, copied some files to a CD. She wasn’t sure what they were, but she had a pretty good idea Tucker wouldn’t want the IRS to see them. She hoped she’d never have to use them. Hoped she’d never have to tell Tucker she’d done it.
“ You sure you want to do this, girl?” Alicia said.
“ I’m sure.”
“ Are you alone?”
“ Yeah, till Tucker gets home.”
“ Then I’m on my way.”
Amy answered the door to see Alicia dressed in white, low top tennis shoes, Levi’s that looked painted on and on her head a straw cowboy hat. She wore a white blouse, open down the front, exposing her very tanned breasts.
“ Alicia!”
“ Like what you see?”
“ Come on, button that up.”
“ You’ll be seeing it all soon enough.”
“ It can wait, okay?”
“ Whatever you say.” Alicia buttoned up.
“ We have an hour or so, what do you say to a glass of wine?”
“ Love it,” Alicia said.
Nervous, Amy had gone to the refrigerator, got out a bottle of Chardonnay. She had trouble with the opener, her hands were shaking so much.
“ Let me do it.” Alicia took the corkscrew from her, opened the wine, poured them each a glass.
Amy took a sip, then another. Then she downed the glass and held it out for more.
“ Better slow down,” Alicia said.
“ One more won’t hurt. Besides, if I’m going to do this, I need the courage.”
“ Okay.” Alicia poured the glass.
“ Cheers.” Amy held her glass up, clinked with Alicia, took a sip, then gulped the wine down.
“ No more for you,” Alicia said.
“ I think you’re right.”
A half hour later and after a third glass of Chardonnay, which she almost had to fight Alicia for, they were in the bedroom and Amy was watching Alicia strip off her clothes. She did it slowly, like she knew a lover was watching.
“ Very seductive,” Amy said.
“ Sorry, it’s like a reflex. I wasn’t trying to get you excited or anything.”
“ Okay.” Embarrassed, Amy pulled off her tee shirt, unhooked her bra, kicked off her Nikes, then pulled off her Levi’s, which weren’t nearly as tight as Alicia’s, then her panties. Then she climbed into bed.
