Divas Las Vegas (30 page)

I couldn't really blame him. We were asking him to get
involved, albeit tangentially, in a plan that could prove
dangerous. And it wasn't as if we, and by we I mean Justin,
were going out of our way to be friendly to him. Actually, Justin had been downright cold up to that point. But
when the chips were down in the past, Justin almost always
stepped up to the plate and at least gave it a try; and that's
just what he did now.

"Look, Bradley," he began, "I know it's been a long
time, and I know I haven't exactly welcomed you back into
my life with open arms, but our lives may very well be at
risk right now and we need your help. Isn't there anything
you can think of?" Damn, even pleading, Justin was sexy
as hell. I knew before Bradley answered that there was no way he could say no to those big, soulful eyes. Thankfully,
I was right.

"Weeeeell, maybe there's one thing," he said, the smile
reappearing, "but it's gonna cost you."

"How much?" Justin asked, getting his wallet out.

"It's not going to be that easy, pal. It's going to cost you
one date with me."

"Oh." Justin paused. I nudged him in the ribs. "Fine.
One date."

"Hey, don't look too overjoyed," Bradley said, backing
away.

"No, no, he's thrilled," I interjected, grabbing him back
into our little circle. "He just has a hard time showing his
emotions. Isn't that right, Justin?" I squinted my eyes at him
to let him know that he'd better play along, or else.

"Yes, yes, sorry, I was just taken aback, is all. I'd be
delighted to go out on a date with you, Bradley," he said,
all sugar and spice and everything, er-well, he's never been
nice, so let's just say not mean.

"Great, then here's the plan. There's plenty of extra gladiator uniforms for the fellows and a lovely Roman ensemble
for the lady. The helmets will cover up Em and Justin, and
I think we can find a scarf to cover up Glenda's pretty face.
At noon, we'll parade in and get close enough to eavesdrop.
I doubt they'll be able to recognize you, and if they do-"

"We're in some deep doo-doo," I interrupted.

"Probably, but let's think happy thoughts. And just to be
on the safe side, maybe we should have a few drinks first,"
he said.

"Urn, how would that help? And aren't you working?"
Justin asked.

"Urn, it couldn't hurt, and yes, I am. So what? This
shit's making me nervous, and if I'm going to appear
Caesarly, it's going to take several gin and tonics. And
you're buying," he said to Justin. Surprisingly, he already sounded like one of us. (Ain't that scary?)

"Yes, Caesar," Justin said, grinning, and then he left to
get us our drinks.

"Damn, that's a nice ass," Bradley noted, watching my
friend swish his way to the bar. "You should have seen it
when he was fifteen."

"Gross, for one, and probably illegal, for two, but sweet
of you to notice, I guess," I said, trying to block the image
from forming in my already addled brain.

Justin returned with the drinks before Bradley could
make any more observations. Thank goodness. And once
we had downed them, we were off to get changed into our
new outfits. And these were some outfits, too. Caesar's
didn't scrimp when it came to authenticity. The sandals
were real leather, the skirt was thick cotton, the breastplate was some kind of ridiculously weighty metal, and
the helmet was hot, hard, and heavy. I had a whole new
respect for Bradley. Being Roman was much harder than
I expected. Worse than drag. And he had to do it fortysome hours a week. Though the updraft was rather nice,
I must admit.

After we finished dressing and admiring our new selves
in the mirror, we hooked back up with Bradley, who had
a fresh round of drinks stashed behind a slot machine,
waiting to be drunk. We fulfilled their destinies and drank
them, gladly. My helmet was quickly producing a headache
and the leather straps on my sandals were digging into my
feet. Not to mention, the chest thing weighed a ton and my
back was starting to bitch. It was going to take a hell of a
lot more than two drinks to get me through the next hour
or so. Of course, when you have friends like Justin, these
things are taken care of.

"Here you go, my weak little friend. These will help,"
he said, handing me some lovely pink tablets. I took them,
swallowed, and said, "Fuck you, clone."

"Nice legs. Are we going for the funky chicken look?"
he retorted.

"Least mine aren't shaved down to nothing," I volleyed
back. "Friggin' queen."

"That's 'cause if you shaved yours, you'd lose half the
thickness you have now, bitch."

Then the pill kicked in and I let it go. Plus, our fourth
member had arrived. And Glenda couldn't have looked lovelier, or less encumbered. Apparently, the women of ancient
Rome weren't made to wear heavy armament. It was a
shame she had to cover up her gloriously painted face with
a scarf, but that's certainly what she had to do.

"Nice outfits," she said. "Maybe you should try the
Stairmaster once in a while, Em."

Such nice friends I have, right? "Dyke," I said to her
under my breath.

"Fag," she retorted.

"Um, when you first-graders are ready, I think we should
start heading for the garden. It'll take a while to get by all
the tourists and their cameras," Bradley said, breaking up
our friendly banter.

Just as he had warned, almost immediately tourists
eager for photo-ops began assaulting Bradley. And waiting
around as one overweight, straight hausfrau after another
crowded in to get her picture taken with the mighty Caesar
was definitely not what we had in mind. So we continued
on to the garden without him. Unfortunately, since Caesar
was obviously busy, and we were the next best things, we
too were stopped and asked to pose. Though, as usual,
Justin, who most certainly filled his gladiator costume
better than I, got most of the attention. And when Glenda
was accosted by a herd of Japanese conventioneers, each
with his own camera, I was on my own. No matter, I
thought, we still had some time to get to our destination,
and I was fine roaming the hotel and nodding pleasantly to the plebeians. Too bad the costume had no pockets. It was
painful to walk by all those glorious slots with no money
to drop in them.

Eventually, even I got some attention as I made my way
along. Two teenage girls stopped me and asked if I minded
taking a picture. Unfortunately, they meant of them, not
me. I grimaced, but obliged. And then, with only a few
minutes to spare, I made it to the garden. Justin quickly
approached from my left, and Glenda and Bradley came up
from behind-and then it was show time at Caesar's.

The long-elusive Ahmed was standing in a corner nervously
smoking away. I was glad to see him still alive and looking
well, even though he was obviously a bad seed and had
caused us so much grief. The four of us Romans huddled
unobtrusively to the side and waited for Zahir to arrive.
Fortunately, that didn't take too long. He showed up and
walked right to Ahmed and hugged him first, but then immediately started lecturing him. Regrettably, at our distance
we couldn't make heads or tails of the conversation.

Seeing as this wasn't getting us anywhere, we decided to
try for a closer inspection, to see if we could pick up the gist
of the mostly one-sided discussion. Justin and I inched our
way nearer to the pair, with our helmets over our faces so as
not be recognized. Luckily for us, a French couple stopped
us for some photos, so we had good reason to be standing
so close to our prey. While the tourists snapped away, we
eavesdropped on Zahir and Ahmed.

Too bad what we overheard was mostly in Arabic. It
seemed, from what we could gather, that Zahir wanted
Ahmed out of town, indefinitely. He had brought with him
a surprisingly large wad of cash to get him on his way. At
first, Ahmed seemed to be turning him down, but since
he eventually pocketed the money, we assumed he finally
relented. Justin and I agreed that Ahmed was probably in enough trouble to warrant a speedy and extended departure, but still found Zahir's behavior, well, slightly odd. We
knew he had good reason to be angry with Ahmed, but the
whole confrontation was bitterly cold and nervously quick.
Knowing how bad Justin's relationship was with his own
family, we didn't give this much thought at the time. Not
all families get along, even under the best of circumstances,
which clearly these weren't.

"That was fast," Glenda said as we returned from our
first gladiatorial mission.

"Yup. Short but not too sweet," I replied, and told our
friends what we had learned.

"Zahir sure seemed eager to get rid of poor Ahmed,"
Justin added.

"Wouldn't you be?" I replied.

"Probably, but he seemed so interested in finding him.
Even obsessed, I'd say. And then he finds him, only to get rid
of him. I just think that's strange," Justin said.

"This coming from the king of strange," I said.

"Whatever, Mary. It was just an opinion. Besides, don't
we have more important things to worry about? I mean,
with Ahmed possibly leaving, aren't we going to maybe miss
the chance to find out where your vase is or learn more about
Bart? We still don't exactly know Ahmed's connection to all
this, and with him gone, we probably never will."

"True, but what can we do now?" Glenda asked.

"Hold on, let me see if I can do something," Justin
said, and ran out of the courtyard, causing his skirt to rise
suddenly. Apparently, not many people were wearing underwear that day.

"What's he gonna do?" asked Bradley.

"Who knows? With Justin it's better not to ask. Besides,
it's not like we can get in any deeper than we already are," I
replied, though I had a nagging feeling that we weren't quite
into it all the way, just yet.

Five minutes later, he returned with a new round of
drinks for all of us.

"The prodigal slut returns," I said, grabbing for my
drink.

"So where did you go?" asked Bradley, draping an arm
over Justin's shoulder. A surprise move, but even more
surprising, Justin let him keep it there.

Justin downed half his drink. "To chase down Ahmed,"
he answered.

"You did what?" I shouted, and spit out nearly half of
my own.

"You heard me. I found him just outside the hotel. I told
him that we knew he was in trouble. I told him that we
knew about Bart. And I asked him if he'd help us find out
the rest of the story."

"And what did he say?" Glenda asked.

"He said, `Since when you working at Caesar's?' Which
was kind of funny, actually. And then he thought about
what I had asked him and agreed to help. He said he didn't
want to be running forever, and that Bart was just the tip
of the iceberg. He said that whoever Bart worked for was
the real brains behind all this; if we could find out who that
was, he could probably go to the authorities and trade the
information for clemency. I agreed with that. So now, I say
that Tabitha should go on one more date with Bart to try to
find out who his boss is. If that doesn't work, we go to the
police with what we have so far and hope for the best. Then
we go home. Vase or no vase. This game is getting boring
and I need a good fuck."

Bradley seemed to like the latter suggestion and
proceeded to glide his hand under the back of Justin's skirt.
Again he let him. Glenda and I stood there and thought over
the plan. One more date seemed okay to me. So far, Bart
hadn't caught on. And I too was ready to go home, even
though I had had several good fucks already. So we agreed.

One more date. Then the police. Then home.

"But where's Ahmed?" I asked.

"Still waiting outside. Shall we go get him?"

"We'd better," I said. "Ahmed has a way of disappearing
on us. And I don't want to spend another day looking for
him." We hurried out of the garden and back into the hotel.

Thankfully, he was still outside waiting for us, though
he looked nervous at seeing a team of gladiators running
his way; he came with us just the same. After we got out of
our costumes, we went back to our room upstairs. Bradley
came along to help us keep an eye on Ahmed, as Justin and
I had other plans.

"Oh, no," Ahmed said as the five of us piled into our
room. "You have stinky room again."

"Stinky room is better than stinky street," Justin said as
he started to get back into Tabitha gear. I did likewise. We
were a duo, after all. Ahmed looked confused, but decided
it was better not to ask questions. Which was probably a
good thing considering that I, and my alter ego Marilyn,
were both dating his brother.

Soon after, Tabitha and Marilyn were off with Glenda
back to the Aladdin. We thanked Bradley for his help as we
shut the door. He yelled after us as we were leaving, "Oh,
Justin will be making this up to me."

"Justin's got a boyfriend, Justin's got a boyfriend,"
Glenda and I sang as we made our way down the corridor
and then out of the hotel.

"Guess that would make me the queen of Rome," he
said.

"Oh, man," I retorted, "I'd say you were queen of the
whole fucking universe."

"Bitch."

"Whore."

Glenda interrupted. "Please, can we go one day without
a catfight? You she-males are driving me crazy."

We agreed to a temporary truce as we arrived at the
Aladdin. Then we went to the disco and hunted for our
men. Glenda tagged along just in case she too could find
a man, or at least get a drink. Judging from the luck we
were having with men lately, I'd say the drink was a hell of
a lot less trouble. She stayed clear of the bar and a repeat
encounter with Bart.

Zahir must've raced back to work after meeting with
Ahmed because he was already behind the counter, busily
pouring drinks alongside Bart. He grimaced when he saw me
in drag yet again, but fixed us all tall, frosty drinks just the
same. Maybe when I got back to San Francisco, I figured, I'd
find me a nice bartender to date. The fringe benefits seemed
to be amazing. Then again, maybe I should worry about
getting a job first. Better still, staying alive should really be
priority number one.