“You sound like you’re pitching me an advertisement.” I stare at the screen a moment, then ask Nova, “How much more security does he have?”
“At least a half dozen.”
“And I’m walking in there with no weapon.”
“Yeah, that sounds about right.”
“So if I break a nail and need backup, how long before the cavalry arrives?”
Nova looks away, scratches the back of his neck. “That’s kind of another issue we need to discuss.”
“Kind of,” I say.
“The suite elevators are exclusive. You need a key to use them, and unfortunately, we don’t have a key.”
“It’s not something I can easily override either,” Scooter says. “Not with th-th-the Bellagio’s level of security.”
I cross my arms, scowl at them both. “Okay, so let me get this straight. I’m going in there with no weapon, no protection, no backup. Does that sound about right?”
Nova looks away again, gives a short nod.
“So where are you two going to be?”
“After I drop you off,” Nova says, “I’m going to park the Town Car in a garage, change, and start working the casino.”
“Great. So while I work you play.”
“I’ll be in radio communication the entire time. So will Scooter.”
Scooter nods. “I’ll be in the parking garage, in the Escalade, monitoring their security.”
I glance back at the screen, thinking about the “at least a half dozen,” the fact that I won’t be seeing Roland but his bodyguard.
“How many other girls are going to be there?”
“At least a half dozen,” Nova says. “Maybe more.”
“Oh, I see. A boss who likes to share his wealth.”
Nova gives his head a little shake, keeping his gaze on me level. “No, they’re all for him.”
“Oh. So he’s a selfish bastard.”
“From what we hear,” Scooter says, “he’s more th-than just selfish.”
Nova pulls a pack of Camels from his pocket, offers me one.
“You know I’m trying to quit,” I tell him, but take one anyway. Once he’s lit both mine and his, he looks down, looks back up, but before he can even open his mouth, I beat him to the punch.
“He likes to play rough, doesn’t he?”
Nova nods. He doesn’t break his stare with mine.
Scooter pulls a fresh Bazooka Joe from his pocket, unwraps it, places the piece of bubblegum in his mouth. He’ll keep adding to the same piece he’s already chewing until he gets eight pieces, sometimes ten, before spitting the large ball of gum out and starting over with a fresh piece. The comic inside he’ll save and add to his collection. Now he leans back and glances up at me, and I see the same thing in his eyes that I see in Nova’s.
I let the moment pass a beat, then say, “Don’t worry about it.”
“Holly—” Scooter starts.
“I mean it. I’ll be cool.”
“Walter knows this isn’t going to be a clean hit,” Nova says. “But he doesn’t want it to get out of hand.”
Right. If I were a United States general in charge of a non-sanctioned mission—especially one on U.S. soil—I wouldn’t want things to get out of hand either.
“What’s his definition of out of hand?”
“You know it changes with every job. But I believe his exact words this time were something like if it’s going to be news, he’d rather it be local than national.”
“I can’t promise anything.”
“No, but you can promise you’ll at least try.”
“How does he want me to take out Roland, anyway?”
“The way we figure it,” Scooter says, “th-th-the bodyguard might try to play rough with you too. He tries to slap you around, you fight back. Simple self-defense.”
“I don’t know,” I say, glancing back at the photographs spread out on the table. “He’s a pretty big guy.”
His cigarette finished, Nova drops it on the ground, grinds the cherry with the heel of his boot. Doesn’t say anything, just keeps watching me.
I realize Scooter is watching me too, leaning back in his chair, and then it hits me.
“Roland’s not here strictly for pleasure, is he? He’s here on business.”
“Some people are flying in from Argentina tomorrow afternoon,” Scooter says. “They’re going to make the deal then.”
“Do we know what for?”
Nova says, “Most likely what’s on that flash drive around his neck.”
“Okay,” I say, nodding again, “and I’m guessing this is the kind of deal that can’t be made.”
“Of course not.” Nova reaches out to pat me on the shoulder but pauses, his eyes lighting up. “Oh shit, I almost forgot.”
“Forgot what?”
Grinning now, he glances at Scooter. “Want to give it to her or should I?”
Scooter is already jumping out of his chair, starting over toward the other end of the garage.
Nova says, “The guy that requested you, he requested something else.”
Scooter comes back, a cardboard box in his hands. He sets it down on the table, pushes it toward me. “Happy birthday.”
Frowning at the boys, I reach out and open the box. Glance at what’s inside. Start to shake my head. “No fucking way.”
“Yes,” Nova says.
“No. I’m not wearing that.”
“You don’t have a choice.”
Scooter pulls out his phone, points it at me. “Can I get a picture then?”
I just stare back at Scooter, then glance at Nova when he finally pats me on the shoulder.
“So,” he says, “you ready to party or what?”
Three
Nova drives me in the Town Car to the Bellagio. He doesn’t speak once. He just drives and I sit in the back, watching the bright lights and the people still awake at two o’clock in the morning, finding it hard to imagine how just five hours ago I was at my mother’s place for family dinner. It’s her monthly excuse to get me and my sister and my sister’s husband and their two boys together, so she can learn what’s new and interesting in their lives and subtly hint at her disappointment in my life, what with me being almost thirty with no boyfriend or solid job or even secure future.
God how I hate those family dinners.
As Nova turns up the long drive to the casino, I close
