Seven

Two security guards escorted me to the main entrance—like being let out of prison after time served.

I jettisoned my luggage into the back seat after the valet brought Patsy around. That didn’t do a lot to make my arm feel better, but at the moment, I didn’t give a rat’s ass. Andy Bishop just ascended to number two on my shit list.

I snatched the dangling keys from the valet’s hand. Tires squealing, I peeled out, leaving a blue cloud in my wake.

Several close-by, nice hotels I’d visited after my eviction from The Players Choice were solidly booked by convention attendees, except for two outrageously overpriced luxury suites. I pulled into the 7-11 parking lot on Koval Lane, directly behind Bally’s and called every other major hotel in town. Nothing available at any price. Using a new app I’d recently downloaded, I dialed up numerous not-so-nice hotels. No luck—same song, different band.

Stranded in Vegas at midnight. Not cool! I was angry, humiliated, and alone. I hated Las Vegas more and more every minute.

I guess I was lucky the hotel security people didn’t call the cops. Bishop probably got some real nice comps not to pursue the matter. And I suspected the other folks at the craps table got a little something, too. For the most part, all parties came out as good as possible. But still, I was trapped in Sin City and no place to bunk down for the night.

It surprised me when my cell phone chimed. Oh my God! Maybe Linda was having a major problem at the house!

I pulled the phone from my purse and checked the readout, somewhat relieved. “What’s up, Ron?”

“I assume you’re in Vegas?”

“I am.”

“I called the Players Choice and they said they could also let me have the room tonight in addition to my reservations for tomorrow night and Sunday night. I’m about half an hour out. I’ll be ready for a midnight snack when I get there. I thought you might want to join me, that is, if you’re not already in bed. But it’s Vegas, ya know. Only weenies go to bed at midnight when they’re visiting the Temple of Temptation.”

Ron Matthew’s voice never sounded so good. I’m a pretty tough gal and I can hold my own. But at the moment, I didn’t feel like the world’s baddest bad-ass.

“Sounds good.” Actually, I wasn’t hungry but Ron’s company might comfort me—and I really needed a friend at the moment.

“How about that Mexican restaurant there at the Players Choice? They’re pretty good. And since we’ll be staying there …”

Of all places for him to suggest!

“You still there, Olivia?” Ron asked after a few seconds of silence on my end.

“Sorry. I was trying to stifle a sneeze.” Sometimes a well-placed lie comes in handy. “Actually, I’m really not in the mood for Mexican. Already been there and done that today.”

“No problem. Got somewhere in mind?”

“How about that place up by Bally’s? I can’t think of the name, but it’s the place with the fabulous crepes. I think they’re open twenty-four-seven.”

“I know the place—great suggestion. I’ll meet you there in about thirty minutes.”

“I’ll be waiting.” I disconnected and tossed my phone onto the passenger seat.

There really was a God and even he hung out in Sin City once in a while.

Right on time, as he always is, Ron stepped through the door and our eyes locked. He claimed the chair opposite mine. “Hey. How are ya?”

I burst into tears. Damn! I so hated looking weak in front of others. But with all that was going on, I was in an emotional quagmire. The swamp in the human brain is an ugly bitch.

“This isn’t one of those monthly female things, is it?”

I shot him a stone-cold stare through my tears.

“Just asking.” He shrugged his shoulders. “We guys never know about all that attitude stuff at those times.”
I held the look, never blinking.

“Just forget I said that, okay? Do you want to talk about whatever it is? Or do you need more time?”

I dropped the stare of a horrible death and filled my lungs with strawberry-scented  air. “I just want it to go away—every last freaking thing. But I know it won’t and I don’t know how to deal with it.” I choked on the sobs as salty tears assaulted my taste buds.

Ron reached across the table and clasped my hand. “Okay, I get it now. This is about Alice. It takes time, Olivia. You’ve been through a lot, more than you deserve. But it will get better each day. You have to believe that — not because I say so; but because it’s true.”

“It can’t get any worse. It hurts so bad, Ron, so fucking bad!”

“You’re a strong woman. You’re gonna get through this. Trust me. You may not think so right now, but you’re gonna be fine.”

“I miss her so much.”

“I know.”

Several seconds of loud silence filled the space between us.

“Where ya staying tonight?” he asked. “Did you get a room at the Players Choice?”

“Not exactly.”

“What do you mean, not exactly? Either you did or you didn’t. Right?”

I exaggerated a deep breath and spilled the beans about my experience at the hotel.

“Oh my God! That is so damned funny!”

“Well, when it’s midnight in Vegas and you don’t have a place to stay, it isn’t all that freaking funny.” I didn’t bother to wipe the tear meandering down my cheek. I attempted to smile my appreciation when Ron’s finger swiped it away.

His eyes wondered hither and beyond before they repossessed mine. “How about you stay in my room tonight? It has two queen beds. I can’t sleep in both of them at the same time. And I promise I won’t try to coerce you into anything illicit. It’s gotta be better than being scrunched up in the backseat of a car, even a classic Cadillac, in the middle of a Walmart parking lot. Whatcha think?”

I closed my eyes as Ron’s offer deflected off the various confused thoughts in my brain. I lifted my eyelids and stared over his shoulder at the far wall.

I shifted my eyes until my gaze collided head-on with his. My chest deflated as I blew out the air I’d sucked in seconds earlier. “Okay, but no hanky-panky.”

Ron laughed out loud. “Hanky-panky? Oh my God, Olivia! We’re not junior high teens. That’s funny.” He paused momentarily and then raised his hand in a Boy Scout salute. “But I promise, no fooling around.”

“The chances of you having been a Boy Scout are somewhere between zero and minus ten.”

“You can be so cruel. I’m crushed.”

“Then don’t make fun of someone when she’s vulnerable. That’s twice, asshole.” I tried to prevent the corners of my mouth from hinting at a smile. I think I failed.

“Well, maybe I wasn’t a Boy Scout. But it is nice to see a smile on your face.” A few silent seconds passed. “My place tonight?”

“You’re so wicked.”

He raised an eyebrow. “I think I’ve been told that before.”

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A Good Chance For Bad Luck  - Main Character List

I will add to the list as the story progresses. Don’t want to

give away too much too early!

Olivia Michelle Grace ------- Rookie PI and millionaire

Alice Milner: -------------- Olivia’s best friend and murder victim

Patsy -------------------- Olivia's fire engine red 1959 Cadillac convertible

Robert Milner: ------------ Alice’s ex and primary suspect in her death

Andy Bishop: -------------- Sabotage suspect at Butler Farms

Ron Matthews: ------------ Olivia’s friend and possible love interest

Linda Sears: -------------- Olivia’s friend and housekeeper

Max Grace: --------------- Olivia’s brother and Kern County Deputy Sheriff

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