“Another beer?” a cosmetics-queen waitress clad in a leopard-print mini uniform with lace-up feathered stilettos whispered to Sam. She nodded, studying Drake. He'd be a wonderful character in a screenplay, too.
Drake walked up and down his two lines of subjects, moving in and out. “When I touch your forehead, you will fall asleep.” He used the same commanding voice as before. “You will have no worries, no cares; you will just fall instantly asleep. Trust me. Let yourself sleep.”
He went up to people at random, put his palm of his right hand in the center of their forehead, counted to three and told them to sleep, and they fell over like a stack of bricks. It reminded Sam of those bizarre televangelist shows she'd seen on TV, where Benny Hinn wandered through the audience taking the devil out of people by touching their heads. Being a big guy, Drake managed to ease everyone's fall and direct them onto a chair or the floor of the stage itself.
Sam watched, astonished, as Scott went out like a light at Drake's command. Then the hypnotist had Cyn go to sleep half atop him. The guy next to her landed on her right butt cheek. Cammie fell straight out in the center of the stage. Adam landed on her right Manolo but didn't seem to feel anything. Anna ended up entwined with a skinny guy sporting serious bling.
Un-freaking-believable. Maybe it
was
for real. There was no other way Anna Percy would be sprawled onstage draped over some guy she didn't know.
The audience applauded. Drake encouraged the applause, telling the crowd that the people onstage would not be affected by the noise. “They're mine until I wake them up.” He kept talking to those onstage in that soothing voice. As he did, he walked around, stepping over sprawled bodies. He stopped by the redhead who'd come with Parker. He took her right hand, lifted it up, and watched it drop.
“I love you, I can't use you, good-bye,” Drake said into the microphone.
Her eyes snapped open. Sam couldn't imagine how Drake could have determined that she was faking, but he most definitely had.
“But I'm
hypnotized!
” she screeched.
Sorry, sweetheart, can't use you.” She rose and huffily made her way down the stairs with the help of two guys from the audience.
“See, if you've had a little too much to drink, it interferes with the hypnotic suggestion. And I have a feeling that girl's had a whole
lotta
‘a little too much too drink.’ ”
Drake told his subjects to get up and take seats at the rear of the stage. They all complied, then sat patiently, waiting for what would come next.
A drum roll. He began putting couples together at random, placing them around the stage. Anna was opposite a hot guy who looked a lot like Mark Anthony but taller. Cammie ended up with Adam. Cyn was with a muscular tattooed guy with a blue Mohawk—nice looking if you went for that sort of thing. Scott was put with a short girl whom either nature or surgery had blessed with gargantuan breasts. She wore a red skin-tight T-shirt—obviously on purpose. Trying way too hard, Sam decided. This she'd known since her first trip to Fred Segal with whatever nanny had been employed at the time. The key to style was to work your ass off and spend whatever was necessary to look as close to perfect as possible, without looking like you'd done anything at all.
“When I give you the signal, you will do everything you can to seduce the person across from you,” Drake instructed. “You think they are the sexiest, hottest person in the world, and you want to prove to them that you are the only person for them.”
As Drake gave the signal, Barry White's deep bass voice crooned sexily from the sound system. Instantly, the couples were all over each other. The short girl with Scott literally jumped on him, her stubby legs encircling his waist. Cammie and Adam were making out furiously. And Anna—Anna, of all people!—was practically rubbing herself up and down on the gorgeous Marc Anthony guy as if she were a Siamese cat in heat.
Leave it to Anna to get paired with a sizzler.
After a few minutes in which the audience could barely control itself, Drake called a halt to the proceedings. He sent all his subjects back to the row of chairs at the rear of the stage and commanded them to sleep. They slept momentarily and then, just as the waitress brought Sam another beer, Drake asked Adam to step forward and open his eyes.
“He's still under,” Drake advised the audience. “Don't worry. What's your name, young man?”
“Adam.”
“How's it going tonight?”
“Fine,” Adam droned.
“Enjoying the show?” Drake asked, with a wink at the audience. “Feeling comfortable?”
“Yes.”
“Can you do something for me, Adam? I'd like you to walk over to any person on this stage right now and say one honest thing to him or her. Right now. Do you understand, Adam? One honest thing. Do not worry; the person will not react to you. In fact, that person will say thank you. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
Sam sat forward in her chair. This was unbelievable! What would Adam do? There was complete silence in the theater as Adam stepped directly to Cammie. “Her.”
“What's her name?” Drake prompted. “Do you know her?”
Adam nodded. “Cammie.”
“Cammie? Can you take a step forward, please?”
Cammie stepped forward.
Drake went to Adam and draped an easy arm around Adam's shoulder. “Okay, Adam, what do you want to say to her that she doesn't know?”
Adam turned to Cammie. “You're my girlfriend, but sometimes I'm really attracted to other girls.”
Holy shit
. Sam was so startled that when she nearly knocked over her beer. This was amazing. If Cammie wasn't hypnotized, she'd
kill
Adam for saying that. No, she'd break up with him first and kill him second.
“Thank you,” Cammie droned.
Oh no, this was
not
happening!
“Cammie, do you have something you want to say back to Adam?” Drake queried. “Something honest? Don't worry, he'll thank you.”
“Adam, I'm really into you, but you're too nice. Guys who are nice bore me.”
“Thank you,” Adam responded.
Sam shook her head, her jaw hanging open. If she hadn't been seeing this, she would never have believed it.
“Thank you, Cammie. Thank you, Adam.” Drake nodded to them, then turned to the audience, a broad grin on his face. “How many of you want to take hypnotism classes from me starting right after the show? How many of you would pay me whatever I asked?”
The audience applauded and whooped, but Sam shook her head. She was baffled and worried. Would Adam and Cammie have any recollection of what had happened here onstage?
Next, Drake brought up the guy with the Mohawk, who told the guy he was with that he wanted to worship him and that he'd like to see him in red high heels.
All righty, then.
Next, Drake brought up Parker.
“He's mine!” the redhead Parker had hooked up with screamed drunkenly from the audience. Sam was beyond thankful that she'd chosen another table.
“Oh yeah?” Drake asked.
“Yeah!”
“What's his name?”
“Parker!”
“Okay, Parker.” He draped an arm around Parker's broad shoulder. Is there one honest thing she doesn't know that you'd like to tell her, man?”
Parker stepped to the edge of the stage and peered into the darkened audience. “I think you're cute—”
“See? See?” The girl interrupted triumphantly, stabbing the air with her finger.
“But that's not the only reason I hooked up with you,” Parker went on.
“Tell her the other reason,” Drake urged him.
“The other reason is … you seem like a beautiful person on the inside, too,” Parker said. “And I really care about stuff like that.”
“I fucking love you!” she yelled, jumping up from her seat and waving her arms in the air. Someone nearby pulled her down, thank God.
Drake cupped his hand to his ear. “Do I hear wedding bells? Maybe they'll come back to Vegas and get married by an Elvis impersonator—you never know!”
The audience cracked up.
Sam looked from the drunk redhead up to Parker, then back at the redhead. Okay, this made zero sense. The girl was not that cute, plus her
uni
was worthy of the headline “Would You Be Caught Dead in This Outfit”? Plus, Parker had just met her—how would he know if her insides were beautiful?
Trés
strange.
Parker took his seat onstage; Drake called Anna up.
“So, Anna? Tell someone in this room one honest thing they don't know.”
Anna spun around and looked directly at Cyn's boyfriend, Scott. “Scott?”
Drake urged Scott forward—he stepped up opposite her.
“Yeah, Anna?”
“What I want to tell you is …” Anna hesitated.
For a moment, Sam wondered if Anna would be the one who could resist Drake's hypnotic suggestion. If anyone could do it, it would be her. She would open her eyes, look at Drake with that direct gaze of hers, tell him thank you but no thank you, and return to her seat.
It didn't happen. She was completely under. What Anna said instead made Sam choke on her beer.
“Scott, I've wanted to have sex with you ever since the first moment I saw you.”
“O
n the count of three you will be fully awake and aware, no longer hypnotized. You will have a wonderful, refreshed feeling. One, two, three.”
Sam watched the people onstage slowly open their eyes. Drake had them all standing in a row—each of them was looking around, maybe a little bit dazed, but no one upset, perturbed, or concerned about their experience.
The audience, of course, had loved it. Drake thanked his participants for being such good sports and thanked the audience for being such a pleasure to entertain.
“And just in case you want a souvenir of the best show in Las Vegas, we've got instant DVDs of your experience at Hip-No-Sis on sale in the lobby for thirty-five dollars. I'll be happy to sign the case for you. Thanks for coming; it's been a great night!”
Once more, there was hearty applause from an audience that had been both amazed and entertained.
“Man, I love this guy's show,” Sam overheard a husky guy behind her tell his companion—a biker-chick girl in a black tank top and black jeans. “I've seen him three times and he kills every time.”
Sam touched the burly man's arm to get his attention. “Excuse me,” she interjected. “I happened to over-hear you say that you've seen Drake's show before.”
“Yeah?”
“Do you know if people remember what happened? The people who were hypnotized, I mean?”
“Hell no!” The guy guffawed heartily. “First time I went up there, I didn't remember jack afterward. Drake had me twirl around the stage like a figure skater. A chick figure skater. It was hilarious. You gotta buy the DVD.”
The house lights went up and people started to file out of the club. Appearing no worse for the experience, Anna stepped in next to Sam.
“Tell me the truth. Was that bullshit?” Sam demanded. “How do you feel? Do you remember what happened?”
“I feel very relaxed and peaceful for some reason, to tell you the truth.”
“So you were under?”
Anna nodded. “I guess so.”
“Remember what happened?”
“No. I really don't. That's kind of … odd.”
Sam caught a glimpse of Parker furiously making out with the wasted redhead; evidently there was no accounting for bad taste.
The line to leave the club slowed by the DVD sales booth, where an older gentleman with a terrible toupee was loudly hawking souvenirs. “Get your DVD of tonight's show, ladies and gentlemen; you'll be amazed!”
Adam and Cammie were waiting for Sam there. “You guys ready to book?” Adam asked.
“Tell me if you two remember what happened when you were onstage,” Sam demanded again.
They looked at each other and shrugged.
“Nope,” Adam declared.
“You're shitting me,” Sam exclaimed.
“Why?” Cammie asked easily. “What happened?”
“You're telling me that you don't find it bizarre that you were just hypnotized in public and you
don't know what the hell you said or did
?”
“What did he do? Make us cluck like chickens or moo like cows?” Anna asked. She edged toward the souvenir stand. “Should we buy a DVD?”
Whoa. This was deeply, deeply weird. Sam understood in that moment that she was the only one out of all of them who knew what had been said and done. And if no one bought a copy of that stupid DVD, what happened in Vegas would definitely stay in Vegas. Actually, it would stay in the Jungle Room.
But if someone
did
buy the DVD …
Shit
.
Parker joined them, one arm draped around his new girlfriend, who had her hand on his ass. “Hey, you guys met Kendall, right?”
“Oh my God, you're Sam Sharpe!” Kendall gushed. “I saw you in
Teen Vogue
! Oh, and in that
Vanity Fair
article, too. Wow, you're so much cuter in person.”
“Thanks,” Sam said mechanically. Evidently Parker had picked up a suck-up, and not a very smart one.
“My father invested a few million in a movie last year,” she went on. “It's about the ten plagues, but, you know, modern. Everyone in my family is
so
into Hollywood!”
“Uh-huh,” Sam uttered.
The hawker raised his voice to catch the last people leaving the theater. “Hip-No-Sis! Get your DVD of tonight's fun! Relive the excitement! Just thirty-five bucks!”
“Shall we?” Adam asked the group, motioning toward the short line.
It was a serious moral dilemma. Sam knew that the DVD would change everything for everyone. Maybe she should secretly order a copy so she'd have it for the future, kind of like an insurance policy for when Cammie—
“Guys!” Cyn hustled over with Scott. “I bought one! I bet it's a hoot.”
No more moral dilemma. Fate—well, Cyn—had intervened.
“You want to go back to the hotel and watch it?” Cyn suggested.
“Please,” Cammie scoffed. “What do you do, watch your parents' home movies for fun?” She swung her curls off her face, eyeing Parker and his “date.” “You are … ?”
“Kendall Cunningham. You have great hair. Who does it?”