The Girl They Sold to the Moon (24 page)

“Well, I've watched you too.” Tilly confessed. “You're hotter than fusion, with a totally awesome body. I've never seen so many men taking off their wedding rings while you danced.”

“Hah! Now that's a new one. Actually, this body is not all me. I think I've sent more than a few plastic surgeons' kids through college. Which reminds me…I don't think I'll need a specialist anytime soon. I think you straightened my nose out.”

Tilly laughed so hard it came out a yelp. Curious eyes turned on them. Some shook their heads, others whispered. Candy's small group remained distant, glowering.

“I just hope I don't have to straighten anything else out,” said Tilly.

“Nah. I meant what I said about making it up somehow. It's the least I could do.”

Tilly raised a brow. “Do you really mean that?”

“Why not; it would cement the friendship part of it.”

Tilly didn't have to think hard about the offer. “There is something you could do for me. It's a bit unusual.”

“Try me.”

“Do you think you could cause a distraction during your show tonight? Say at 11:40 exactly? I want to play a prank on somebody.”

“A distraction? I cause those all the time.”

“I mean a colossal one—a real beaut.”

Candy gave her sly smile. “Honey, all I have to do is drop my duds and give ‘em an eyeful.”

“They wouldn't slip you for that?”

Candy bent down to work on the leg feathers. “Shit. You can't buy that kind of press. I can make it look like an accident. You know how good I am at that.”

“Eleven-forty.”

“On the dot. No problem.”

They shook on it. Candy helped her finish up with the costume removal, and then stepped back and said, “It's been a nice talk. We'll have to do it again. Tell your coach not to use so much glue next time.”

“I will, thanks.” There would not be another sometime. With an air of sadness, Tilly watched Candy walk off and merge into the crowd, where she took up with her admiring minions. After the last show there would not be any more visits to the rehearsal hall, no makeup or Sue Lin. The casino would be a fleeting memory—memories that were more nightmare recollections than anything else. More importantly, FTALC would be minus two of their wards. Freedom was just hours away.

Even though she had rested the previous day, Tilly napped on a cot at the far end of the rehearsal hall. She'd managed to block out the cacophony of noises coming from the actors and dancers. When she awoke, she heard that Sue Lin was looking for her. She met up with her coach at the makeup table.

“Sorry I missed you,” said Sue Lin. “I had an emergency with one of the entertainers. How'd you do?”

“It went terrific. Candy helped me out of my costume. We made up and had a nice talk.”

Sue Lin looked dubious. “I don't know about that skunt bucket. Bad association, if you ask me.” She looked at the makeup counter, pulled a drawer open. “Where are my god damned balloons!” she roared. “I swear…gone for an hour and the whole place unravels.” She went off in search of the props and returned a few minutes later with them.
This will be the last time for these silly contraptions, too
, thought Tilly.

Her second and last show had all of the energy of her previous performances and more. Even though Buddy did not attend, she knew the reason why and went all out, dazzling the crowd. She'd remembered what Sue Lin had told her: Go out with a bang and not a whimper. She danced for herself, besting her moves, smiling unabashedly and showing the audience was she was made of. By the time the lights dimmed, nearly the entire crowd rose to their feet and applauded. She made her final bow and walked back with a proud strut to the rehearsal hall. She hoped it would be the last time she ever stepped foot on that stage. Candy passed her, giving her a victory slap and a smile.

“Eleven-forty,” said Tilly.

“On the dot.”

Tilly didn't wait for Sue Lin to help her clean up, since her coach was gone again. She removed the balloon pieces from her body and wiped herself down. After donning her suit, she picked up her bag and headed for the wig rack. She pulled both wigs from their stands and walked over to the apparel rack. Using the rack as a shield, she un-clipped both skirts and tops, then stuffed them, and one wig, into her bag. The other wig went down her suit top. She checked the time;
ten minutes burned
.
What did I forget?
Settle down and think. Something's missing.
Then she remembered and hurried to the makeup counter. She found a small tin of pancake makeup, looked around and then slipped it in her other breast cup. She saw her coach approaching in the reflection of the mirror.
For God's sake, not now.

“If it ain't one damn thing it's another,” Sue Lin cursed. “Now the synthesizer is on the fritz. Some asshole spilled their coffee in the control panel.” She stomped up to the makeup counter and slapped the top. “How can anybody be so careless around high-tech equipment?”

Tilly didn't know what to say other than, “Gads, I'm sorry to hear that. Will that affect the next—”

“Probably not. We have a backup sound system. It should be kicking in right about now.”

Tilly stood up, checked the wall clock. “Well, I hope it works out. I've got a splitting headache, and I've just got to lie down.”

“What? Oh! I've got some painkillers in the main office. Hang on for about ten minutes and I'll fetch them for you.”

“Thanks for that, but I've got to get—”

“I said hang on and I'll—

“I'm
not
feeling good, Sue Lin!” Tilly yelled. She hated to come across like that but the clock was ticking, taking away precious minutes.

“Fine, fine.” Sue Lin turned on her heel and headed off. She looked back once, wearing a confused expression.

Tilly wasted no time leaving the rehearsal hall and heading for her destination. The trip through the main casino hall went without incident. She made certain not to step outside the boundary of the ward aisle, keeping her eye open for security. The shock came when she reached the north wing and entered the Pearl Chest casino room. It was not empty. Technicians and laborers scurried about, stripping plastic, connecting wire looms and bolting chairs to the floor. A few employees glanced in her direction. One of them stared hard at her and then smiled. The ad sign stood untouched. She risked being seen entering the blue door with so many people in the area. A glance overhead showed that the surveillance cameras remained in their plastic cocoons.

She edged her away around the sign and ducked. Once through the door, she ran down the hall, turned and entered the bathroom. No Fia. She checked the stalls. Empty. She pulled her suit off and laid it on the floor. She wiggled into one of the skirts, pulled the top down over her and retrieved the short wig. After donning the wig, she checked herself in the mirror and adjusted it. It took a few pins to anchor it in place. Anxious, she rushed to the door and opened it, almost colliding with Fia.

“Sorry,” said Fia, out of breath, “I got hung up trying to get through the blue door—the place is crawling. She looked at Tilly's wig. “Damn, that looks good.” She opened her satchel, tossing items on the counter. Tilly grabbed the pancake makeup and started on the shoes.

Fia had trouble getting the skirt up past her hips, ripping it in the process. “Son-of-a-bitch!”

Tilly started on the second pair of shoes. “Don't worry about it. This won't be a fashion show.”

Fia armed her way into the top and plopped the wig on her head. At the mirror, she said, “Ohhh…I look like
slort
”, and then snatched some pins to fasten it in place. “I know, I know, it's not a fashion show.”

Tilly helped Fia into her shoes, still greasy with the white makeup. They primped each other, making sure the seams were straight, the wigs adjusted properly. Fia dragged her satchel into a stall and summoned Tilly inside. Fia shoved her down on the toilet seat and pulled out a box with a double paddle attachment. Tilly stared at the object in disbelief. It was the defibrillator kit that Fia had stolen from Tranquility Harbor.

“Jesus Christ Almighty.” said Tilly. “Are you crazy?”

Fia spread Tilly's legs, looking for the telltale chip scar. She marked it with a felt pen. “Nope. I didn't tell you because I didn't want you to go all queasy on me.” She snatched the toilet roll from its holder and put it between Tilly's teeth. “Bite down on that.”

Tilly bit, then felt a blasting jolt to her thigh. Her whole body went numb.

“For good measure…” Fia administered a second jolt that lifted Tilly up off the toilet, causing her to spit the toilet roll from her mouth.

“Gah! Naw m'lah!” Tilly garbled.

They exchanged places. Tilly found it hard to balance on the numb leg. Fia lined up the paddles and gave herself two prolonged jolts, the second jolt throwing her head back into the wall. “Oh, Lord,” she moaned and tossed the kit into the satchel and zippered it up. “Seven-hundred and fifty volts will burn out any chip,” she said breathily. “Sorry, but it was the easiest way to do it.”

They limped out of the stall, holding each other up. It took them a minute to shake some life in their legs. They crammed their suits in a trash can. Tilly opened her hygiene bag, double-checking on their ID cards.

“Have we forgotten anything?” Fia asked, rubbing her leg.

The clock on the bathroom wall read 11:43 PM.

Tilly shook her head, then took the lead out of the bathroom. They hobbled down the corridor and stopped at the end. A hard shove on the fire door swung it open. Looking both ways, they stepped out onto the tennis court apron, a walkway surrounding the courts. Tilly stepped on something that crunched. It was a sliver of glass. Looking up over her shoulder, she saw that the doorway camera lens was cracked. She turned around. All of the courts were lit by tall pole lamps. Four couples occupied two courts, volleying balls.
Late night game
.
No outside security personnel
.
No alarms sounded. No attention drawn.
They might have 10 minutes before their chips were discovered off-line. Although Candy's distraction might give them an extra buffer.

Tilly spoke in a hushed voice. “Nice and easy but quick.”

They began a swift, but limping gate over the walkway. Up ahead, a gap in a hedgerow opened up onto a garden path. Tilly made a beeline for it, praying she would not stumble and go down. She could feel Fia's breath on her shoulder, hear her frantic breathing.

They made it to the garden path seconds later. Tilly picked up their pace. The path wound snake-like through a small arboretum that held exotic plants, flowers and shrubs. The darkness and shadows between the foliage gave them good cover. Parking lot lamps glimmered between the branches and trunks up ahead.
We've just about made it
.

When they broke from the garden path onto the parking lot blacktop, they stopped, stalled in disbelief. There wasn't a vehicle in sight anywhere. The lot was completely deserted.

Fia bent over gasping for breath. “Now what the hell do we do?”

Tilly heard the mechanical whine of an electric engine before she could answer.

A sliver dart-like vehicle approached them at breakneck speed. The three-wheeled sled did a drifting slide, locking up its brakes. A gull-wing canopy flipped open. A voice yelled out, “Get your asses moving!”

Tilly ran to the vehicle, instantly recognizing Buddy at the wheel. She took the passenger seat next to him. Fia half slid, half fell into the single rear compartment seat. Buddy buzzed the canopy down and put his foot in it, careful not to spin the rear tires. The bladders inflated, snuggling them into their seats.

“Damn security guard chased me off the lot for not having a club sticker.” said Buddy. “That's why I wasn't here. I saw you making your way through the garden from the street. I had to sneak back in again.”

“I'm just glad you're here.” Tilly said, giving him an awkward hug. She hadn't seen so many dials, gauges and computer displays on a dashboard before. With all the colors, it looked like a lighted fruit salad. And this sled was
fast
.

Fia leaned between the seats. “For a minute, I thought we were on our own. Good seeing you, Buddy.”

“Nice to have you aboard. I got all the cameras out, not as fast as my practice runs. But, hey-- we did it.” He swung a hard right. The sled swerved onto a small lane. He opened up the throttle, decelerated when he came to a main intersection, turned left and gunned it again. Tilly watched the digital speedometer climb with a dizzying blur of numbers. A large screen in the middle of the console gave off a green neon glow; it looked like some kind of sonar device, displaying the manufacturer's acronym as LEPS. Buddy leveled off just under the speed limit.

“We haven't talked about it, but where are we going, Buddy?” asked Tilly.

“My Mom's old casino. It's closed down, but we still own the property. I have a key to the rear entrance.” Buddy twisted a dial on the console screen, squinting at the readout. “It's a safe place. You won't have to worry about privacy. It has a little backroom with some bunks.”

“Sounds good,” said Tilly, and watched as Buddy slowed down to approach another major intersection—The Las Vegas strip.

Buddy pulled on to the major thoroughfare, with an explanation. “I only have to take this for a few miles until I can hit the expressway. Just hang tight; it'll be a little slow.” He glanced at both of them and grinned. “Man, you're going to have to tell me how you passed those chips. I've been racking my brain trying to come up with that mystery.”

Fia explained how the voltage from a defibrillator would short the delicate chip. “Got the information from a prairie dog at Tranquility Harbor,” she said. “I can't tell you where the dog heard it.”