"The staff said she’s talking about your tabloid news today, but they didn’t tell me exactly what she said. You want me to subdue her and take control?"
Fuck.
"Boss?"
"No, I’ll take care of it." I end the call and dial up my pilot, which goes to voice mail. "We’re going to Vegas. Tonight. Fuel the jet."
I don’t go back inside the theater, I’ll never escape if I do. Instead I push my way out the back doors into the alley and call my driver to come pick me up a few blocks away. It’s a forty-minute drive up to the airport and by that time the pilot is on his way, but not there yet.
I board the jet and collapse back into one of the leather seats with a sigh.
"Rough day, Mr. Asher?" the attendant calls from the small galley near the front of the plane.
I ignore her and she takes the hint and shuts up.
I spend the next two hours with my knee bouncing, my head pounding, and the internal dialog with Grace running through my mind continuously. The car delivers me to the front of the Bellagio and I get out, button up my suit coat, and straighten my sunglasses.
My personal concierge steps forward with his hand outstretched as I pass between the Asian lion statues that flank the entrance. "Mr. Asher," he says with his best customer-service smile. "I’m so happy to see you again. What brings you here on such short notice tonight?"
"Carl, I have a woman inside Villa Privé and I need immediate access. Her security detail tells me she is drunk."
Carl smiles that smile he gives me just before he says no. So I interrupt him with a squeeze of his shoulder. "Carl, listen. I know the rules, I know the party is private, I know the security is tight. But I’m going in to get my girl, do you understand me? I’m not leaving here without her. You do whatever it takes to make that happen and I will make sure you still have a job when it’s all said and done."
His smile falters and then disappears. He knows he has to try at the very least. He’s paid to try and give me whatever it is I ask for, even if it’s something outrageous like this. "Yes, OK, let me see. Let’s go to the villa level and make a plan."
We walk briskly through the lobby and I keep my sunglasses on, but the finger-pointing starts immediately. People start calling out my name, yelling insults, and a few women actually rush me and the security guards have to form a wall to stop them from getting too close.
Carl and I ignore everything, never slowing our pace, until we leave the bustle of the public areas behind and stop at the elevator.
We both exhale a long breath.
"Rough day for you, huh?" Carl asks as we wait.
"This is my life and I know people will never believe this, but it sucks. I am always guilty and never proven innocent."
He just stares at me for a few seconds and then the elevator dings and the doors open. He nods, telling me to enter first, and then he follows. The doors close and we pretend to listen to the elevator music as we go up.
"This girl is important to you?" Carl asks, his eyes trained on the digital numbers counting off the floors as we rise. The ride is short so the car dings again and the doors part.
"I’ve disappointed her today, Carl. I’m sure this is happening because she saw the news. And I need a chance to set it right."
He nods at me as we exit and then waves me into a lounge. "Have a seat, Mr. Asher. I will make my case and be right back."
My phone buzzes just as I take a seat on a plush burgundy couch. Felicity. "Please have good news," I say into the phone.
"Well," she says, "define good."
I shake my head. What else could go wrong today?
"I found out where Grace Kinsella is from. A tiny farming town in northeastern Colorado. I also found out something else."
She stops talking and I get a sinking feeling in my stomach. "Do I want to know?"
"No, Vaughn, I really don’t think you do. But since I know you’re gonna to ask, let’s just start with her real name."
Shit. This cannot be good.
"Does Daisy Bryndle ring any bells?"
"Should it?"
"Depends. Did you turn on a TV at all ten years ago? Because Daisy Bryndle’s family was murdered back when she was only thirteen. Daisy went missing and then showed up eight months later and spent the better part of a year locked away in a secret location. She was charged with the murders and was all over the news for months, then poof. Gone."
"What the—why isn’t she in jail?"
"Apparently the charges were dropped after a Denver lawyer stepped in. That lawyer, Marjorie Tamren, is her friend Bebe’s mother. They changed Daisy’s name, legally adopted her at age fifteen, and her juvenile record was expunged and sealed when she turned eighteen. I couldn’t get a hard copy, but this info comes from someone close to her as a child."
A set of double doors open and Carl appears.
"I gotta go, Felicity. Thank you."
"Hey, I’m glad to help. And I can relate to this girl, ya know, V? I can relate to her."
"I know, kid. I know. I’ll see you tomorrow." I end the call just as Carl walks up. He’s got a tight smile on his face and I can’t tell if that’s a good or bad sign.
"You’ve been accepted into the game, Mr. Asher, but I cannot guarantee that you will be able to get to the girl. She’s… quite wrapped up with our special guest at the moment."
Fuck. "What the hell does that mean? If he’s got his hands on her, I will—"
Carl puts both hands up in a stop motion and looks around nervously. "Mr. Asher, please,” he whispers. “This entire area is wired up to off-site regulators. They will not allow you to distract from the game. You are in there to bet, and if you can get your girl while you’re at it, that’s fortunate for you. But fighting over a woman in this suite is absolutely out of the question. There are armed guards inside, Mr. Asher. I have to take your cell phone and you need to put up three hundred thousand dollars to enter the suite." He thrusts a clipboard at me. "Sign here and we’ll withdraw the funds from your account."
I hand over my phone and sign for the bank transfer. I look nervously over Carl’s shoulder at the door he came out of. "She’s in there?"
"Yes, sir. They are playing craps at the moment. The suite patron has stipulated a minimum playing time of one hour." I nod as we approach the double doors and he stops and waves me forward as someone on the other side releases the lock. "Good luck," Carl says as I walk through and enter the suite.
Fuck.
"Boss?"
"No, I’ll take care of it." I end the call and dial up my pilot, which goes to voice mail. "We’re going to Vegas. Tonight. Fuel the jet."
I don’t go back inside the theater, I’ll never escape if I do. Instead I push my way out the back doors into the alley and call my driver to come pick me up a few blocks away. It’s a forty-minute drive up to the airport and by that time the pilot is on his way, but not there yet.
I board the jet and collapse back into one of the leather seats with a sigh.
"Rough day, Mr. Asher?" the attendant calls from the small galley near the front of the plane.
I ignore her and she takes the hint and shuts up.
I spend the next two hours with my knee bouncing, my head pounding, and the internal dialog with Grace running through my mind continuously. The car delivers me to the front of the Bellagio and I get out, button up my suit coat, and straighten my sunglasses.
My personal concierge steps forward with his hand outstretched as I pass between the Asian lion statues that flank the entrance. "Mr. Asher," he says with his best customer-service smile. "I’m so happy to see you again. What brings you here on such short notice tonight?"
"Carl, I have a woman inside Villa Privé and I need immediate access. Her security detail tells me she is drunk."
Carl smiles that smile he gives me just before he says no. So I interrupt him with a squeeze of his shoulder. "Carl, listen. I know the rules, I know the party is private, I know the security is tight. But I’m going in to get my girl, do you understand me? I’m not leaving here without her. You do whatever it takes to make that happen and I will make sure you still have a job when it’s all said and done."
His smile falters and then disappears. He knows he has to try at the very least. He’s paid to try and give me whatever it is I ask for, even if it’s something outrageous like this. "Yes, OK, let me see. Let’s go to the villa level and make a plan."
We walk briskly through the lobby and I keep my sunglasses on, but the finger-pointing starts immediately. People start calling out my name, yelling insults, and a few women actually rush me and the security guards have to form a wall to stop them from getting too close.
Carl and I ignore everything, never slowing our pace, until we leave the bustle of the public areas behind and stop at the elevator.
We both exhale a long breath.
"Rough day for you, huh?" Carl asks as we wait.
"This is my life and I know people will never believe this, but it sucks. I am always guilty and never proven innocent."
He just stares at me for a few seconds and then the elevator dings and the doors open. He nods, telling me to enter first, and then he follows. The doors close and we pretend to listen to the elevator music as we go up.
"This girl is important to you?" Carl asks, his eyes trained on the digital numbers counting off the floors as we rise. The ride is short so the car dings again and the doors part.
"I’ve disappointed her today, Carl. I’m sure this is happening because she saw the news. And I need a chance to set it right."
He nods at me as we exit and then waves me into a lounge. "Have a seat, Mr. Asher. I will make my case and be right back."
My phone buzzes just as I take a seat on a plush burgundy couch. Felicity. "Please have good news," I say into the phone.
"Well," she says, "define good."
I shake my head. What else could go wrong today?
"I found out where Grace Kinsella is from. A tiny farming town in northeastern Colorado. I also found out something else."
She stops talking and I get a sinking feeling in my stomach. "Do I want to know?"
"No, Vaughn, I really don’t think you do. But since I know you’re gonna to ask, let’s just start with her real name."
Shit. This cannot be good.
"Does Daisy Bryndle ring any bells?"
"Should it?"
"Depends. Did you turn on a TV at all ten years ago? Because Daisy Bryndle’s family was murdered back when she was only thirteen. Daisy went missing and then showed up eight months later and spent the better part of a year locked away in a secret location. She was charged with the murders and was all over the news for months, then poof. Gone."
"What the—why isn’t she in jail?"
"Apparently the charges were dropped after a Denver lawyer stepped in. That lawyer, Marjorie Tamren, is her friend Bebe’s mother. They changed Daisy’s name, legally adopted her at age fifteen, and her juvenile record was expunged and sealed when she turned eighteen. I couldn’t get a hard copy, but this info comes from someone close to her as a child."
A set of double doors open and Carl appears.
"I gotta go, Felicity. Thank you."
"Hey, I’m glad to help. And I can relate to this girl, ya know, V? I can relate to her."
"I know, kid. I know. I’ll see you tomorrow." I end the call just as Carl walks up. He’s got a tight smile on his face and I can’t tell if that’s a good or bad sign.
"You’ve been accepted into the game, Mr. Asher, but I cannot guarantee that you will be able to get to the girl. She’s… quite wrapped up with our special guest at the moment."
Fuck. "What the hell does that mean? If he’s got his hands on her, I will—"
Carl puts both hands up in a stop motion and looks around nervously. "Mr. Asher, please,” he whispers. “This entire area is wired up to off-site regulators. They will not allow you to distract from the game. You are in there to bet, and if you can get your girl while you’re at it, that’s fortunate for you. But fighting over a woman in this suite is absolutely out of the question. There are armed guards inside, Mr. Asher. I have to take your cell phone and you need to put up three hundred thousand dollars to enter the suite." He thrusts a clipboard at me. "Sign here and we’ll withdraw the funds from your account."
I hand over my phone and sign for the bank transfer. I look nervously over Carl’s shoulder at the door he came out of. "She’s in there?"
"Yes, sir. They are playing craps at the moment. The suite patron has stipulated a minimum playing time of one hour." I nod as we approach the double doors and he stops and waves me forward as someone on the other side releases the lock. "Good luck," Carl says as I walk through and enter the suite.
