Divas Las Vegas (25 page)

"And the tiny penis?" I asked, curious despite myself.

"You would obsess on that point," Justin said, checking
out his new paint job.

"Well, just trying to get all the facts here," I replied.

"Uh-huh," he said. "What-ever, Mary."

"Play nice, ladies, or mamma won't finish her story."
Glenda stepped into the foray and we both nodded that
we'd try.

"Okay. Well, the penis thing went like this. When we got
back to his place, which was covered in beer posters with
scantily clad women and lots of particleboard furniture, he
excused himself to go to the bedroom to get a change of
clothes. I sat on the red vinyl sofa and counted backward
from ten in the hope that a brief meditation session would
calm my jangled nerves. When I reached one and opened
my eyes, he was standing in front of me, yakking away,
drinking a Miller, and changing his clothes. He obviously
made good use of the bench press that he kept in the corner
of the living room. I feigned appreciation for his pecs and
abs, knowing that I was gaining points with each compliment. What he didn't know was that I was digging my nails
deep into his nasty couch to keep from killing him. One nail
went right through the material when he had the gall to get
out of his genie slacks and into his tight jeans in front of me.
No surprise: he didn't wear any underwear. And there you
have it-one shrimpy peepee. My guess is that he hadn't seen
many to compare it to, because he had no qualms about me
seeing it. He even looked down at it appreciatively when he
noticed me looking. Inside, I was laughing, but my face only
showed admiration."

"You poor thing," I said, petting her back.

"No, not really. It gave me a sense of empowerment,
knowing him intimately like that. Anyway, that's not the
good part of the story," she said, now getting excited.

"There is a good part?" Zahir spoke, finally, from his
chair. He was admiring our feet from afar. I think he was a bit jealous of our glamorous toes, but was too embarrassed to say anything. When I jiggled the nail polish bottle
in front of his face, he nonchalantly shrugged, but didn't
argue when I got on the floor, peeled off his socks, and initiated him into our little coven. (Is it weird that I popped a
boner while I was polishing him up?)

"Well, there's a good part in terms of our little dilemma
here," Glenda said. "When he excused himself to `go take a
crap,' as he so delicately put it, I knew that it might be my
only chance to do some snooping. Once the door was safely
closed behind him, I went into action. I ran through the
house looking for anything that looked out of place. And
that's when I found it."

"Found what? Found what?" shouted Zahir. He nearly
knocked the bottle out of my hand with his newfound
enthusiasm. And if you've ever spilled nail polish on a rug,
you know how big of a bitch it is to get out, so I urged him
to simmer down and bade Glenda to continue.

She smiled with a sense of well-deserved pride and
finished her tale. "Oh, yes. Our man Bart is up to something. His garage is attached to his kitchen, which was right
off the living room. I noticed that he parked his car on the
street and not in the garage, so this was the first place I went
looking. Lo and behold, spread out on every square inch
of space, were dozens and dozens of televisions, stereos,
VCRs, CD players, computers, and a whole bunch of other
electronic equipment. He's either a thief or a fence, but no
doubt, he's a bad guy."

"Unless he's collecting for charity," I chirped in, feeling
very Zen as I worked over Zahir's hairy toes with my little
brush. He was now tense as hell, more likely from Glenda's
story than my paint job.

"Dude, this guy wouldn't have stopped to help his own
mother if we'd passed her on the street and she was begging
for spare change. He made sure to tell me, as we were driving home, that he was short on cash and that we'd have
to go Dutch for the night. Meanwhile, he's got thousands
and thousands of dollars worth of merchandise out in the
garage. Please, charity is the last thing on this man's puny
mind."

"Well, that's more knowledge than we had before," I
allowed, "but how was the rest of the date?"

"Ah, that's the other good news. Having found what I
was looking for already, I feigned cramps. Knowing that
my condition meant no sex for him that night, he gladly
drove me home. I shot out of the car before he could even
try to kiss me good night. Mission accomplished. Bottles of
champagne ordered."

"And how do you think Ahmed plays into all this,
Zahir?" Justin asked, from the bed.

"I wish I knew. He did ask me for money before he
disappeared, but I barely make enough to get by. I know
Bart makes same as me. There is no way he could buy all the
things you speak of. If Ahmed is involved in this, it can only
mean no good," Zahir answered, shaking his head in shame
for his brother. (Or he might have been looking down to see
my progress. I could tell he liked his new look.)

"So now what?" I asked, putting away my tools and
admiring my work.

"Now we go to Plan B," Justin answered.

"Plan B?" the rest of us asked.

"Oh, yes, Plan B. Or as I like to call it, Plan Bart."

"Which is?" I asked.

"I'll let you know. Still working it all out in my head, but
I think it may solve all our problems," he answered.

If it were anyone else, I would've pressed for more. But
I knew better than to disturb the master while he was at
work. And I could practically see the gears moving in his
twisted little brain as he sat there on the bed looking down
at all our toes.

"I think Zahir wins," he proclaimed.

"Yes?" Zahir asked, looking down as well.

"Oh, yes," we all said, nodding our heads.

"Zahir thinks so too," he agreed, folding his arms in
triumph. "When do we do our hands?"

"Ah," Justin aahed. "Now that would be the start of
Plan B."

First thing we realized was that we'd have to infiltrate the
enemy: the enemy being Bart, of course. And, since we knew
of only one obvious weakness in our enemy, namely women,
we figured that would be our primary line of offense.
Glenda, who had her fill of Bart already, politely declined
her services on that front. Actually, she said, "No fucking
way." For which we couldn't rightly blame her. So Tabitha
was enlisted. And since Justin rather enjoyed playing his
alter ego, it wasn't a hard sell. The thought of spying on
our adversary, undercover-like, made for a more interesting
challenge, at least in Justin's devilish mind. And it was a hell
of a lot better than sitting around doing nothing, though
certainly a lot more dangerous.

Naturally, preparing for all this involved some heavyduty girly shopping. Glenda's clothes were fine, on Glenda,
but they weren't exactly Justin's taste, or size, for that
matter. So on to the mall we went. Yes, believe it or not,
Vegas has a Fashion Outlet only a short distance from the
Strip. All we had to do was hop on a conveniently located shuttle and voila-Donna Karan, Neiman Marcus, Versace,
and dozens and dozens of other designer shops were right at
our beautifully polished fingertips.

First, we had to kiss Zahir goodbye, as he had to go to
work. Well, I had to kiss Zahir goodbye, anyway. My new,
handsome, dark lover slipped me a note before he left so
I'd keep him on my mind until we saw each other again.
(As if I'd forget, right?) Then we were off to the shuttle,
which was located at the MGM Grand. The sun was glaringly bright, so the three of us weren't overly conspicuous in
our matching bonnets and glasses.

The MGM is about a half a mile up from the Aladdin;
and, since you can just as easily walk through the casinos
as alongside them on the sidewalk, we chose the former
as our way of getting there. I justified that it would be
harder to spot us and then follow us if we kept to that
route. Naturally, I dropped a few dollars in the slots
along the way. Why waste good gambling time? Funny
thing, I was forty bucks ahead by the time we boarded
the van. I figured I could at least buy one pretty frock for
myself with my winnings, even though we were primarily
going for Justin/Tabitha. (Why should he/she have all
the fun?)

The van was luxuriously air-conditioned, which was
wonderful because it was hotter than hell outside. We even
managed to relax for a few minutes until...

"Um, Em?" whispered Justin, from the seat in front of me.

"Um, yes, my love?" answered I.

"I know you hate it when I say Don't look now, but-"
he didn't say it, but pointed out the window instead.

"But there's that black Mercedes again, and it's riding
right alongside us." I finished his sentence, then gulped. So
much for relaxing.

"What black Mercedes?" Glenda asked from the seat
next to mine.

I pointed it out to her and explained why this was a bad
thing. She echoed my gulp.

For the rest of our journey, we rode in silence and
watched our unknown neighbors ride alongside us. They
never looked up, just watched the rode in front of them,
and were never more than a few car lengths away. The only
saving grace was that we pulled up to a carport when we
arrived and could run out of the van and into the mall in
no time flat. The black Mercedes was two cars behind us
and still had to park, so we had at least a few minutes' head
start. But head start to where?

Running through the mall, I shouted to Justin, "Now
what?"

"Now this," he answered, and veered us into the Gap
Outlet store to our immediate right.

The three of us hurried through the shop and into what
quickly became a too-tight dressing room.

Glenda, thank goodness, took control of the situation.
"Okay, you two stay here and I'll go get some disguises.
Hopefully, they won't recognize me should they come
looking. My guess, and I hope this is the case, is that they're
only looking for you boys."

"Gee, so much for all for one and one for all," said
Justin.

"Hey, I know you've lived enough for three people, but
I'm not through yet," she snapped.

"And what about me?" I chimed in.

"Not-so-innocent bystander," she answered, and left our
cubicle.

"Well, Lucy, here's another mess we've gotten ourselves
into," I said, plopping my ass down on the small bench. I
looked tired and worn-out in the mirror across from me.
(Damn that fluorescent lighting.)

"Now, Ethel, we're not sunk yet. It's always darkest
before the dawn," he quipped.

"Well, it's dawned on me that we're in some deep doodoo," I quipped back.

"At least we have each other," he said, patting my head
from his standing vantage point.

"Oh, joy," I replied, lackluster-like, and slumped down.

Our speedy friend appeared a short time later with three
new outfits in hand. "Lucky I know your sizes," she said,
handing us our duds and some matching pumps.

"You know how red makes my feet look fat," Justin
complained as he tried to undress. Three was definitely a
crowd in there, but at least we were well hidden.

"What's that saying, Justin? Oh, yeah, better red than
dead," she said.

"Good point, but I think it's better dead than red," he
replied, getting into his pullover.

"Will you two shut up?" I implored, tired of the chitchat.
"We're running out of oxygen in here, already." Which was
highly unlikely, as there was an open space just above the
door. In any case, they took the hint and piped down for
my sake.

Five minutes later, we were all in new clothes and shoes.
Glenda thought it best that she have a disguise as well, to
be on the safe side. I think she just wanted a new outfit
for her troubles, but didn't say as much. See how mature
I'd become? Still, standing there in my cashmere V-necked,
short-sleeved cardigan and bun-hugging Gap jeans for
women, I didn't think that mature was necessarily the right
word. Maybe if we had run into Lord & Taylor, but not
the Gap. Justin looked lovely in his knee-length khaki skirt
and ribbon-adorned top. No surprise, Glenda went all out
for herself with a rather fetching pair of leather pants and
a matching leather top. I felt cheated. Which was sort of
asinine considering the circumstances.

Glenda topped us all off with brand-new Gap caps and
a layer of makeup for Justin and myself. Then she grabbed our wallets and put them in her purse. We'd have to leave
our lovely granny hats and chic shades behind. I couldn't
say that I'd miss them. It was not a good look for me. Then
again, my ass didn't look too hot in my new look either. I
had little time to inwardly bitch, however, because, as we
emerged from the dressing room, we spotted our men in
black on the other side of the mall, apparently looking for
us in the Lane Bryant shop. As if our lithe bodies would be
caught dead in there. (Oops, bad choice of words, huh?)