Authors: C D Ledbetter
Thoroughly discouraged, she tossed the book onto the coffee table and strode toward the kitchen, tripping over a stack of CD cases. Swearing softly, she picked them up and shoved them into a storage unit by the door.
Her glance strayed to the window one last time, and she looked away, determined not to spy like a nosey old woman. Let Glen have his little trysts; she didn’t need him. There were lots of men around town. All she had to do was go trolling until she found one she liked.
She found herself gazing into the refrigerator and realized she wasn’t hungry. A cup of tea was what she needed, not something to eat. It didn’t take long for the kettle to boil, and by the time she’d picked up a teabag and stuffed it into her cup, the water was ready. She reached for the kettle and heard a knock on the door.
“Hang on, I’m coming,” she called, being careful not to splash any water onto her hand as she poured the steaming liquid over her tea bag. Wondering who could be visiting her at this hour of the day, she hurried to the living room, peered through the peephole, and saw Kate standing in the doorway.
“Hello,” she said, opening the door.
Kate smiled hesitantly. “Sorry to bother you, but I thought I’d apologize for last night. Sometimes business comes up and I have to take care of it immediately, or lose a sale.”
Yeah, right, Emily thought, conjuring up a mental image of Kate, dressed in a dominatrix outfit, bending over a naked man. Erasing the voyeuristic image, Emily immediately felt ashamed of herself. “Would you like a cup of tea?” she asked, more to make amends for her spiteful thoughts than to be neighborly. Now that she knew what Kate did for a living, she didn’t particularly want to be friends, but it did make sense to invite her in—especially since she knew Glen. Maybe, if she edged the conversation in the right direction, she could pump Kate for information
A strange silence filled the room as the classical music playing in the background stopped. Emily rose to select another CD. “Didn’t you tell me you liked classical music?” she asked. “I’ll see if I have something you like.”
“Chopin and Bach are my favorites.”
“Chopin it is,” Emily replied, selecting a CD. “I love his music.”
“Me, too.” Kate agreed as she placed her cup on the coffee table.
Once the CD ended, Emily leaned forward to broach the subject of Glen without seeming too obvious. “Have you met the other new tenant? I met him in the parking lot a couple days ago, but I haven’t seen him since.”
“Really? I just left him. I’ve known Glen a couple of years. He’s a cutie. Quiet, but nice.”
Emily struggled to make her voice sound nonchalant. “He’s definitely easy on the eyes. You know, you two would make a good couple.”
“I don’t think so,” Kate retorted. “Glen’s a friend, but that’s it. I like my men to have a little more spice to them, thank you.” She peered at Emily and grinned. “He’s all yours.”
Emily picked up their mugs and carried them to the sink. “I have to admit that I was curious about whether or not you and he were an item.”
Kate laughed. “Sorry to disappoint you, but Glen’s not my type. Like I said, you’re welcome to him.”
“Thanks.” Emily thought about her encounter with Glen at the pool and the events that transpired afterward. “Did I tell you I think I landed a job? If all goes well, I’m going to be the newest floral designer for the Emerald Lagoon Hotel and Casino. The manager said I might be able to start next week.”
“That’s great.” Kate uncrossed her legs, then strolled to the door. “I thought I had a lot of classical CDs but you’ve got me beat by a mile,” she said with a grin, eyeing the full CD rack. “Thanks for the tea, and good luck with Glen.”
Laughing, Emily closed the door behind her. Kate might be grateful that they liked the same kind of music, but she was thankful that Glen was up for grabs. It was time to start trolling for one Mr. Glen Craigone. Her grin widened when she remembered that she’d already purchased the right kind of bait.
Chapter Nine
The next morning, shortly after six a.m., Emily sat on the edge of the bed, pushed the electric shaver up and down the back of her calf and then applied a light coat of moisturizing cream. When she was satisfied that her legs were silky smooth, she slipped her feet into a pair of flip-flops and headed for the door.
She caught a glimpse of her reflection in the front room mirror and paused, turning both left and right to check the fit of her new swimsuit. The silky material clung to her like a second skin, accentuating the subtle curves of her torso. The damn thing had better make her look good; it was the most expensive item of clothing she’d purchased in a long time. Grinning at her reflection, she fluffed her hair one last time and stepped outside.
Narrow ribbons of pink and orange filled the horizon, and the slightly warm breeze that caressed her legs lent credence to the weatherman’s promise that today would be another scorcher. As Emily approached the umbrella tables, any lingering doubts about the wisdom of spending two hundred dollars on a swimsuit vanished the moment she watched Glen’s expression change from lazy boredom to amazement. She could feel his eyes following her every move as she slid out of her sandals and allowed her towel to slip from her fingers and curl into a puddle on the chair.
“Morning,” he greeted her. “New suit?”
She feigned a look of surprise. “This old thing? Nah, I’ve had it for a couple of years,” she said, climbing down the ladder into the cool water. Trolling for men has never been easier, she thought smugly as she let go and sank beneath the water.
Glen was waiting at the ladder when she bobbed back to the surface. “Ready to do some laps?”
His eyes were riveted to the bodice of her suit. That’s right, fishy fishy, she said under her breath. Take a good look before I start reeling you in. You’re not gonna know what hit you by the time I’m through. She tried to keep her expression friendly instead of smug and hoped that the grin on her face wouldn’t give away her inner thoughts. “You bet,” she replied, pushing off the side. “First one to do twenty laps wins,” she challenged, leaving him behind as she plowed through the water with graceful strokes.
He was holding on to the side of the pool when she finished. “I hope you know I let you win,” she announced as she moved toward the steps.
“It was a few months ago, but my body’s still trying to play catch-up,” she said lightly as she reached for the stainless steel rail that divided the steps into two areas.
He followed her out and waited while she brushed the moisture from her body. “Would you like to have dinner tonight?”
Her heartbeat quickened at his invitation. That’s right, she thought, come on, nibble the bait. Good little fishy. She paused, not wanting to appear too eager to rebuff him, and infused regret into her voice as she replied, so he’d be sure to ask her again. “Sorry, I can’t. I already have plans.”
She draped her towel sarong style and strolled back to her apartment. Once inside, she let out a soft whoop and resisted the urge to dance around the living room. Her plan was working! She had a date, the first one in a long time.
Emily moved to the bedroom and contemplated her wardrobe, trying to figure out what would be appropriate for her date. She pulled out every cocktail dress she owned and then discarded them as either frumpy or not slinky enough. By the time she’d gone from one end of her closet to the other, she realized that she needed to make a few additions to her wardrobe. The new garments would definitely have to be sexy, but not overly so. Half the fun of the adult mating ritual was peeling away the layers.
Humming softly, she switched on her computer, then made her selections for the day. Ignoring her usual routine, she decided that today she’d visit two casinos: one in Henderson and another on the strip. That way she could buy whatever she wanted and not have to worry about the cost. Feeling better than she had in a long time, she locked the door and drove toward the strip, figuring that she would hit the Golden Temple first, then drive to Henderson.
The sound of bells and whistles ringing out from various machines greeted her when she stepped into the foyer. Emily wandered through the various aisles for a few moments and stopped at a bank of quarter machines. When the change girl stopped her cart in the center of the aisle, Emily purchased twenty dollars worth of coins and selected an open machine nearby. She knew from experience that the center of the aisle was the best place to listen for the change in pitch.
It took a little longer than expected, but she eventually heard the telltale ping on the bank of machines behind her. Trying to remain nonchalant, Emily waited until the woman playing the machine walked away, then slid onto the stool. Her first impulse was to load the machine, but she only played a single coin for the first few spins. As her gaze traveled to the machine next to her, she did a double take.
The man playing it was dressed in a suit and tie. Even with the air conditioners going full blast, the casino was warm, and the temperature outside had passed the century mark several hours ago. He had to be nuts to wear that long sleeve jacket in this kind of weather.
A loud pizzt coming from his machine broke her silent reverie, and her ears throbbed in response to the high-pitched squeal. She glanced at the young man, noting that his expression hadn’t changed. Obviously he hadn’t heard anything, otherwise he would have signaled for a technician to check his machine. Her ear still throbbed, and she massaged it until the pain disappeared. A few minutes later the sound repeated, but this time it lasted a few seconds longer.
Something weird was going on, and she wasn’t altogether sure that her neighbor wasn’t the one causing the noise. Curiosity overruled self-preservation, and she tilted her body so she could watch his movements. Unlike other gamblers, he kept his eyes glued to his machine and didn’t answer her subtle attempts at conversation. Frustrated, Emily turned her attention back to her machine. When the sound didn’t occur again, she decided that her imagination was working overtime. Obviously it was the machine, not the man, generating the noise.
A few spins later her machine changed pitch again, and she started to feed in the maximum numbers of quarters. A few more spins ought to do it. The five-line quarter machines usually didn’t take long to hit after they changed pitch a second time.
Her heart caught in her throat when she spotted two security guards moving toward her. Crap. They must have noticed something unusual. She tried to think of any abrupt movements she’d made, but her mind remained as blank. She decided that her best bet would be to act as if nothing had happened. There was every chance the guards were coming to do something other than arrest her. Her heart pounded and her hand shook as she pressed the ‘spin’ button on the machine.
A few moments later she glanced toward the end of the aisle. They were still coming! Moistening her lips, she struggled to maintain her composure. The worst thing she could do would be to act guilty. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she willed her breathing to return to normal, and focused her gaze on the brightly lit slot buttons in front of her. When the sound of footsteps stopped directly behind her, her heart began to beat erratically.
“Would you please come with us?” one of the guards asked in a loud voice.
Emily’s blood turned to ice, and her hand hovered above the ‘spin’ button. Her nerves felt like frayed wires as she waited for one of the guards to grab her arm and drag her away. Unable to stand the suspense, she spun around.
The guard had his hand on the arm of the man standing next to her! It wasn’t her they were after—it was him! Her breath came in gulps and her knees felt weak as her brain registered the fact that she wasn’t going to be arrested.
The young man started to struggle, and a stun gun fell out of his left sleeve and bounced to a stop near her foot. Emily quickly jerked her leg out of the way. The last thing she wanted was to get caught up in a fracas on the casino floor, or worse—have the stun gun discharge against her foot.
It didn’t take long for the guards to subdue him. One guard clamped a pair of handcuffs around the cheater’s wrists while the other picked up the stun gun. “The show’s over,” the taller guard announced as he jerked the cuffed gambler to his feet. He nodded to the group of gamblers staring intently at the scene unfolding before them.
“You can go back to your machines. Everything’s under control.” He spoke into a walkie-talkie as they dragged the protesting customer off the casino floor.
Emily slid back onto her stool and leaned against her slot machine for support. She’d had a lucky escape, no doubt about it. She wondered if the casinos would think that her unique ability to decipher which slot machine was ready to pay off was a form of cheating and quickly decided that they wouldn’t think twice about throwing her in jail if they had the slightest inkling about what she was doing.
Was what she was doing a form of cheating? She suddenly wondered if she’d somehow lulled herself into a false sense of right and wrong. The casinos had a definite edge on their slot odds. If they didn’t, they wouldn’t still be in business, able to build hotels in every direction.
Well, she reasoned, if the casinos had their edge, then she was entitled to one of her own. After all, it wasn’t as if she was using some sort of mechanical device or anyone’s help to trigger the slots into paying jackpots. She was simply using her own ability to decipher which slots were ready to pay off. That’s what most people did—relied on their hunches when they selected machines to play. Her hunches were simply more accurate than most.