Divas Las Vegas (32 page)

"Let's hope there is a next time," I lamented.

"Good point. Maybe we should go find Justin after you
get back to being a man, fashionably speaking, I mean."

I nodded in agreement. "Can you remember where Bart
lives?"

"Yeah, I think I can find the place," Glenda said, unsurely.
"Maybe. I mean, I remember the landmarks, but not the
streets, exactly." Not the answer I had hoped for. And we
didn't have Bart's phone number to call to see if my best
friend was okay. I suppose we could've waited for him back
at the hotel, but what if he was in trouble? I'd never forgive
myself if something bad happened to him. And Glenda felt
the same way.

After we got back to the hotel and I changed, and then
called Bradley back at the Aladdin to tell him the bad news,
I had an idea. "Well," I said to Glenda, "there may be one
person who can help us find Bart's place, but he may be
disinclined to help."

She looked at me quizzically as I dialed the number on
the card.

"Hello, Earl?" I said.

"Yeah, who's this?"

No, he wasn't tickled to hear from me, but he was glad
that Ahmed was safe and sound, for the time being. And
he was willing, albeit reluctantly, to help us out one more
time. When he picked us up fifteen minutes later in front
of Caesar's, I truly hoped that this would be the last time
we would need his help. I'd forgotten how awful his vehicle
reeked. Much worse than our hotel rooms.

Glenda told Earl what she remembered about where Bart
lived. Earl immediately knew the vicinity, as he had been
driving around it for many, many years. My heart pounded
as we sped to the area. "Oh, please, Lord, let my friend be
all right," I prayed, over and over again. "I promise to be a
good... I promise to be a decent... I promise to be...to be...
Oh, just let my friend be okay, please."

We spotted Bart's car a few minutes later. "That's it!"
Glenda shouted, pointing at Bart's pig palace. I gulped,
audibly, and told Earl to pull over.

"Now what?" Glenda asked.

"Good question," I said, my face in my hands as I sat
there and rocked backward and forward.

"I could go up and ask if anybody called for a cab," Earl
suggested.

"Well, at least you might be able to see if he's okay," I
said. "But I really don't want you to get involved, Earl. Bad
things have been happening to innocent people."

"Too late," he said, getting out of the cab. "I'm already
involved and I ain't so innocent. Now you two duck down
while I go take a look-see." We obeyed. Luckily, we could
see what was going on from the rearview mirror. What we
saw was Earl walking up to the door. He rang the bell. Bart
answered. The two talked briefly, and Earl returned to the
cab. The whole encounter took less than a few minutes.

"Well?" we shouted from the floor of his cab, which,
by the way, smelled even fouler than the seating area. If we ever got out of this alive, I was going to buy Earl a lifetime
supply of air fresheners and carpet deodorizers.

"He's fine," Earl said, starting the motor and driving
away.

"What?" we asked, getting back into our seats.

"He's fine," he repeated. "I saw him sitting on the sofa,
drinking a glass of wine."

"Did he see you?" I asked.

"Yeah. He looked shocked when he saw me at the door
and then he waved at me three times. I pretended not to
notice him so Bart wouldn't get suspicious, and then I
left."

"Stop the cab!" I shouted.

"What's wrong?" Glenda asked. Earl pulled over and
turned around to look at me.

"He's in trouble," I said to them both.

"But I just told you that everything looked okay," Earl
said.

"Three waves is Justin's secret code to come rescue him,"
I said.

"What?" Glenda asked, looking nervous.

"When we're at a bar, and I see Justin wave to me three
times, it means that I should come over and rescue him from
an unwanted suitor. Can't get more unwanted than Bart,"
I explained.

"Uh-oh," Glenda said.

"Uh-oh," Earl echoed.

"Uh-oh," I agreed. "And again, now what?"

"Now we go rescue your friend, like we're supposed to,"
Earl said.

"But how?" I asked.

"With this," he said, pulling a big, black gun from under
his seat. "I brought it just in case." Again he got out of the
cab and walked up to Bart's door. He rang the bell, and Bart
opened the door. But here's where stinky old Earl shocked us all. When Bart asked him what he wanted, Earl raised
his gun, pointed it at Bart's face, and motioned to Justin to
follow him out.

The rest was sort of a blur. We could hear the shouting
all the way from the cab, but we didn't know what was being
said. What we did know was that Justin was running out
of the house as fast as his shaven legs could carry him, and
we were screaming at him to get in the cab. When Earl saw
that we were all safely inside, he backed away from Bart's
front door, but he kept his gun pointed at Bart until he too
had made it back to the cab. Bart just stood there, shocked
and mildly terrified. That is, until we pulled away-then
terror gave way to anger. I could see it in his face as we
drove by. We had not seen the last of him, I knew. Not by
a long shot.

"WHAT TOOK YOU SO LONG?" MY SO-CALLED FRIEND
asked me, once we were a few hundred feet away. He was
his usual calm self, which meant that he too had some pills
on him. (Oh, the joys of self-medication.)

I sat there staring at him, stunned at his flippancy. Then
he grinned and reached out to hug the two of us.

"Fucker," Glenda said to him first.

"Prick," I added.

"Ah, friends," Justin said, hugging us harder.

When we pulled away, I asked, "So, were you really in
trouble back there? I recognized the wave signal."

"Boo, yeah, sweetie. Big time. Bart-o ain't as dumb as he
looks. Well, maybe close. Of course, it doesn't take a rocket
scientist to figure that something's up when you witness it
firsthand," he said.

"Don't tell me you got caught," I broke in.

"Well, let's just say that I didn't account for Bart's vanity
and the few extra mirrors he has up around his house. He
spotted me, from the mirror in the bathroom, which reflected the mirror in the bedroom, which was angled just enough
to see me in the living room, trying to slip him a Mickey
yet again. Luckily I had some sleeping pills in my change
purse because I accidentally took your purse when I threw
it in there." (Which I already knew, of course.) "Earl, here,
showed up just in time. I doubt that me being a woman,
or at least Bart thinking I was a woman, would've saved
me from his wrath." Justin settled back between Glenda
and myself in the backseat of the cab. "Thanks, Earl," he
quickly added.

"Don't thank me yet," he cautioned. "We're being
followed."

"What?" we shouted in unison. But even as I said it, I
could see Bart's psycho-car in the rearview mirror. That's
when we felt the first bump.

"God damn it," Earl shouted. "That fucker's ramming
us."

"Speed up!" Glenda yelled the obvious.

"Brilliant idea," Justin muttered.

"Do you have a better one?" Glenda gave him a welldeserved punch in the arm.

"Yeah, I'm taking all suggestions under consideration,"
Earl said, speeding up a bit. I had serious doubts that his
beat-up jalopy could outrace Bart's souped-up sports car for
very long.

Justin leaned forward. "Earl, do you know where the
stables are? The ones just outside of town? I think they're at
a ranch called the Lucky Slots."

Earl nodded that he knew of them. "Hold on," he shouted,
taking a firm hold on the steering wheel and yanking it all
the way to the left. The cab's backside did a spin and, in the
blink of an eye, we were facing in the opposite direction.
Bart's car kept speeding forward and just slightly clipped
us as he sped past. "You boys better have won some money
while you were in Vegas. That's gonna cost you," Earl noti fled us as he slammed his foot on the gas, sending his three
passengers tumbling around the backseat.

"Not to worry," Justin responded, once he'd regained his
seating. "Just get us to the stables before Bart."

"Okeydokey," Earl said. "But I hope you know what
you're doing. This baby can't keep ahead of that schmuck
forever."

"Yeah, Justin, you better know what you're doing," I
echoed, searching his purse for whatever was keeping him
so calm. Glenda's hands soon delved in as well.

"What's this white one?" I shouted. The cab's engine
was causing quite a ruckus. I doubted it ever got above fifty
in the city. Now it was pushing eighty and, apparently, not
too happy about it.

"Just take it, please," Justin responded.

Glenda had already grabbed one and downed it. I
followed suit. "What was it?" I shouted again.

"A breath mint. You stink!" he hollered back, waving
his hands in front of his face. We both punched him. And
before we could go digging through his purse again, we
heard the roar of Bart's car gaining on us fast.

"How soon until we reach the stables?" Glenda yelled to
Earl. "He's almost right on our asses again."

"About a mile," Earl answered, just as Bart rammed us a
second time. "That's another two hundred and fifty dollars
for you," he said, and then yanked the steering wheel to the
left again, sending us tumbling one more time. He repeated
this several times as we approached wherever it was we were
headed. I still had no idea what Justin had up his sleeve,
and I prayed that, whatever it was, it would get us out of
this horrible race. Thankfully, the constant turning up and
down streets was working. Earl was maintaining a good
fifty-foot distance from the lunatic behind us.

"Almost there, Justin. Now what?" Earl yelled back.
Bart was once again gaining on us.

"Now drive straight up to the entrance of the stables as
fast as you can," Justin yelled back.

"Okay," Earl shouted, "but isn't there a-" Just as he got
within a few feet of the entrance, Earl once again whipped
the steering wheel as far to the left as it would go and
slammed on the gas. Our car veered around a bit and sped
down a dirt road. That's when we heard the crash.

"Isn't there a what?" Glenda shouted hysterically. Had
she turned around, as Justin and I had, she would have seen
the what.

"A ditch," Earl finished his previous sentence.

"Oh, by the way, Earl," Justin said as we slowed down
and stopped the car, "watch out for the ditch."

"Thanks, Justin. Good idea," Earl responded, turning
around to take his turn punching Justin in the arm.

Apparently, my friend's usually rattled brain somehow
remembered that ditch from our earlier journey through the
desert with Honey. I hadn't remembered seeing it until I
turned around and saw Bart's car flipped over on its end
and steaming in the distance. The ranch didn't allow cars
on the property. I guess their means of accomplishing this
worked. And it worked well. Bart's car was totaled. Unfortunately, we couldn't say the same thing for Bart. From his
precarious situation, which was upside down, he managed
to get the door open and was shimmying out of his vehicle
and onto the ground. He appeared unharmed, but, judging
from the kicking and screaming, he was way pissed at the
loss of his prized automobile.

"Mission accomplished, children," Earl said, slowly
driving away from the scene.

"Temporarily, yes," Justin lamented, "But he's still alive,
which means he'll be back for us just as soon as he can."

"Well, at least he doesn't know where we're staying,"
I added, but Justin didn't say anything. He just shook his
head.

"What is it?" Glenda asked, concerned with Justin's
current expression of dread.

"Um, when Bart caught me with the pills, he grabbed my
purse and saw the Caesar's room key. I'm sure even he can
put two and two together.