Vanity, Vengeance And A Weekend In Vegas Part 8
"Good, then we're done here." He pulled out a small piece of notepaper and scribbled something down on it. "I hope you enjoy the rest of your stay with us-"
"I'm not staying with you."
He nodded distractedly without looking up from the paper. "Again, our records say otherwise. But regardless, I hope you enjoy the rest of your vacation. Take my card in case you have any follow up questions-"
"Follow up questions? But we're not done!"
"I'm afraid I have a meeting to attend. I've also written down the name of one of our guest services representatives. I'll instruct her to get you free tickets to any show you want to see and arrange for you to get complimentary spa services here at the hotel."
"But-" he handed me the notepaper. On it he had written We're being watched. Meet me at this location tonight and I'll answer the rest of your questions."
Below that there was an address. I glanced up at him. He was still smiling but for the first time I thought I saw a trace of concern behind the cavalier exterior.
"Right," I said uncertainly. "Well, I am in the need of some spa services. Do you think they'll be able to fit me in for a facial at seven o'clock tonight?"
"They're open until 11 pm and usually they have more appointments available later in the evening...9ish I should think."
"Great...then, um, I'll try to get an appointment around 9ish."
"Sounds good."
I paused for a moment. "I want my check back."
"That's too bad. You gave it to me as payment for a favor, remember?"
"That was a mistake."
"Yeah, but it was your mistake, not mine." He c.o.c.ked his head to the side. "Of course if you think you really are legally ent.i.tled to it we could bring it to the courts. Should we bring it to the attention of a small claims court, Sophie?"
I bit down on my lip.
"I didn't think so. Again, I hope you enjoy your stay." He got up and opened the door for me.
There was really nothing more to say so I walked out, past Anne, who offered me a cursory goodbye, and out into the casino.
I stopped somewhere around the blackjack tables to catch my breath. There was a chance that I had just been talking to a murderer.
The hour that I had told my friends that I would be using for a nap was just about up. I found my way to the edge of the casino and called Dena.
"So you're finally awake?" Dena asked upon picking up. But I could hear the accusation in her voice.
"I um, wasn't actually sleeping."
"No s.h.i.t."
I covered one of my ears to better block out the sounds coming from the slots. "I didn't want to lie but I had to do this alone," I continued.
"Do what alone?""
"I came back to The Hotel Noir." A woman a few feet away lit up a cigarette and the smell of self-destruction overtook me. "I wanted to find the guy I paid the $250 to."
"Please tell me you're kidding."
"I found him," I said quickly.
"Is he a guest in the hotel?"
"Umm...no. He's the GM of the hotel."
Another pause. "The GM," she said flatly.
"Yep."
"Yeah, I'm not a hotelier or anything but if the GM there is willing to sell out for $250 The Hotel Noir might need to put together a more compet.i.tive compensation package for its management."
"I don't think he did it for the money. Actually I can't really figure out why he did it. I asked him..." my voice trailed off as I spotted a woman watching me from halfway across the room. But she wasn't just a woman, she was the woman. She was standing next to the c.r.a.ps table. This time her dress was purple and black (I recognized it from the Versace ad campaign) and her pink stiletto heels had been replaced by black stiletto boots.
"Dena, I gotta go."
"What do you mean, you gotta go? Are you still at the Hotel Noir?"
"I'll call you back in a bit," I said. "Promise."
"Sophie!" But I hung up.
The stiletto woman started walking toward me at the same moment I started walking toward her. There was a determination in her step that made everyone around her make way. I had been in a daze last night. I hadn't been able to see through the little s.e.x-kitten act she was putting on but now that act seemed paper-thin. It couldn't conceal the tough and almost frightening force that lay behind it. This was not a woman to be messed with.
We both stopped when there was no more than three feet between us. At the roulette table next to us someone shrieked for joy as another groaned.
Simultaneously we asked the same question: "Where is he?"
She hesitated a moment and then glanced around the room nervously. "Let's take a walk," she suggested.
"Why can't we talk here?"
"People might be listening," she explained as she led me toward the exit. "It's not a normal hotel."
"Not normal by Vegas standards?"
"Not normal by any standards."
"So what are you saying? It's the Hotel California?"
"Yes," she said dryly. "The Hotel California in Nevada." She pushed open the gla.s.s doors leading to the strip. "But the big difference is that you can get out."
I followed her into the sunshine and dug into my bag for some sungla.s.ses. "Well we're both outside so I guess that means you can get out too."
"No, not really," she said quietly. "Not in any way that matters."
I didn't understand what that meant so I let it pa.s.s for the moment. I watched her open up her handbag but instead of taking out sungla.s.ses she took out a package of cigarettes. "Want one?"
"I don't smoke. I'm not a big fan of secondhand smoke either."
"Oh?" She asked, blithely lighting up a cigarette. "So you decided to ignore my advice? You're not leaving Vegas?"
"It sounded more like a warning than advice, but yes, I'm ignoring it."
Stiletto lady shrugged. I was having a hard time keeping up with her without getting winded which was humbling since I wasn't wearing killer heels or sucking in carcinogens.
"Warning you to get out of Vegas was supposed to be my good deed of the week but you've completely messed that up." She took another long drag from her cigarette. "You're probably going to ignore this advice too but if you are going to stay in Vegas you should at least stay away from The Hotel Noir."
"Oh for G.o.d's sake, if there's something you want to tell me about the hotel then tell me! I don't have time to decipher codes."
She blew out a long stream of smoke as a family of four hurried past us on the sidewalk. "It's owned by a very powerful family."
The alarm bells that went off in my head were so loud it was surprising other people couldn't hear them. "Are we talking about the Russian mafia?"
Ms. Stiletto smiled "I don't really believe in labels."
"Riiight, well I guess a t.u.r.d by any other name smells just a s.h.i.tty." I tried to take a deep breath but that ended with a cough. "The woman who was with Anatoly last night-"
"Tanya Davi," she supplied, "my cousin."
I was overtaken by an unwelcome wave of sympathy. "I'm sorry."
"Me too. No one should have to put up with a family member like Tanya. She's awful."
"You're...you're using the present tense."
"Why wouldn't I?" She glanced back toward the direction of the hotel and then grabbed my arm and abruptly pulled me onto a side street. The pedestrian traffic immediately became more manageable. A pudgy middle-aged man at a bus stop flashed us a crooked toothed grin as we pa.s.sed.
"What happened to Tanya?" I asked carefully.
"She handed in her resignation this morning and now she's gone. But to be fair, she's been dead to me for quite some time now."
I gave her a sideways glance but she kept her focus straight ahead.
"That's not what happened," I said firmly.
She shrugged. "Winners write the history books." She shot me a quick meaningful look. "Tanya isn't the winner here. There is no other story to be told."
I came to an abrupt stop. Stiletto lady followed my example and pivoted to face me.
"Who the h.e.l.l are you and why can't you talk like a normal human being! Not everything needs to be a f.u.c.king riddle, metaphor or a.n.a.logy! What. Is. Wrong with you?"
She glanced around the area as if there might be spies around every corner. "I'm a friend of Anatoly's," she said carefully. She then brought her eyes to me. I recognized her expression; after all I'd seen it in the mirror enough times. It was determination mingled with a healthy dose of fear. "I can help him. I saved his life last night-"
"Wait, you saved his life? What the h.e.l.l happened?"
"-and if you know where he is you've got to tell me because I swear I can save him again. I might be the only one who can."
"You won't even give me your name! Why should I trust you enough to tell you anything?"
"I guess I'm just hoping you have good instincts about people," she said with a sad smile. "I'm not asking you to just give me his location, not if you're not comfortable with that. You can take me there and be there right by my side and if Anatoly thinks I'm some kind of threat to him he can shoot me on the spot....but he's not going to think that."
"Because you saved his life yesterday."
"Exactly." The wind picked up her red hair and it flew almost gracefully behind her shoulders, like a Chinese flag without the yellow stars. I didn't trust this woman and I didn't like her...but none of that really mattered because I didn't have any information to give her even if I wanted to.
"I don't know where he is."
She studied me for a moment and then took a very long drag off her cigarette. "Well s.h.i.t," she whispered. "Where the h.e.l.l could he be?"
"When did you last see him?" I asked, trying unsuccessfully to keep the rising panic out of my voice. "What happened last night?"
She was quiet for a moment as she stared at the cigarette between her fingers. "Are you the reason Anatoly quit smoking?"
I hesitated. I hadn't known that Anatoly had ever smoked. I let my eyes wander to the cars lined up impatiently at the red light. "He...he quit before we met," I hedged.
"Ah." Did she sound relieved? "Well he never smoked much to begin with," she went on. "Just while enjoying a good cognac or after s.e.x."
My head snapped back in her direction. She raised her eyebrows mockingly as she sucked leisurely on her cigarette.
"Natasha?" I asked.
"Ah, you know my name." She craned her neck upward before blowing out a long steady stream of smoke.
"If you see him tell him I can still help him," she said and then added with a sly smile. "Tell him I'll bend over backwards for him...just like old times."
I stood there frozen as she turned on her impossibly skinny high heels and walked away.
Chapter 8.
"They say a good man is worth fighting for. But a man who's good for YOU shouldn't make you fight just for the right to be in his life."
--Death of The Party I thought of following her but what would be the point? It's not like she could lead me to him now.
His wife! That was the woman he was claiming to marry for citizenship. Sure, and Brad Pitt was shacking up with Angie because he needed someone to split the house payments with.
I started walking back to my hotel. I couldn't stomach the idea of going to the s.e.x toy trade show now. My amused indifference to all those deviant devices had morphed into an intense hatred. As if an inflatable doll could ever replace the feeling of Anatoly's warm skin. As if I needed a lotion to become sensitive to the path of kisses he made up my thigh. As if something as harsh as a nipple clamp could somehow be more exciting than Anatoly's gentle fingers as he caressed my b.r.e.a.s.t.s, bringing my nipples to attention. It was like a cruel joke; the universe's way of reminding me of what was lost.
And the worst part was that the man who had made me feel all that...I didn't even know if he was dead....