Divas Las Vegas (37 page)

"About time you caught these jackasses," she said to
Zahir and Honey. "Wasn't looking forward to packing up
and leaving again."

Again? How often did they do this?

Mary stood up to face us. "If I had known how much
trouble that darn vase was going to cause me, I'd have tossed
it out the window a long time ago. What a mess it nearly
made."

"I wish you'd have tossed it too, Mary," I said. It made
her laugh. The jocularity was not going to last for very long.
I added, "Then three people wouldn't have had to die, not
including the three of us."

"Well, those last two fellers had nothing to do with us,
and we still don't know who killed Mr. Hartwell. That
really put a crimp in our plans, though. That dang old goat
was our primary means of selling the hotel stuff off. (Which
went a long way to explaining his reported wealth but lack
of significant inventory.)

"Oh, we know who killed Mr. Hartwell, don't we,
Zahir?" Justin said, knowingly. Zahir squirmed as Mary
and Honey turned to face him.

"What's he talking about, Zahir?" Mary asked.

"Who knows? He is just desperate to stir up big trouble,"
Zahir answered, but the look on his face was giving him
away. It was not the look of an innocent man.

"Not true," I said. "Ahmed told us that Zahir was
stealing money from his boss"-Honey-"and needed the
vase to get the money to pay her back. Mr. Hartwell found
him in his shop and Zahir killed him. Then he went to steal
our money and mistakenly killed those other two guys."
Now, this wasn't exactly true, since Bart was really responsible for all those unfortunate deaths, but I had a feeling the
lie would work in our favor.

That's when all hell broke loose. Honey's gun went from
pointing at us to pointing at Zahir; Zahir's gun turned to
Honey; and Mary, very unladylike, started hollerin' and
cussin' up a storm. This had a very desirable effect: the three
of them were no longer paying attention to the three of us.

Justin was nodding furiously toward the television, so
Bradley and I inched our way over to it. Justin did the same
and then whispered that on the count of three we should
lift it up.

"One..." Zahir was vehemently denying that he killed
anybody.

"Two..." Mary was yelling at Honey that they should
never have trusted a foreigner.

"Three..." Honey looked confused at who she wanted to
shoot more, Zahir or her mother.

She didn't have much time to give it a second thought.
Up went the television over our heads and, a split second
later, down it came crashing on Zahir's foot. He dropped
his gun and Bradley picked it up. Zahir, now in audibly
severe pain, went teetering forward, knocking Honey over
onto the floor. And Mary went rushing over to her precious
television. So much for maternal instincts.

Realizing that this was our only chance, the three of us
leaped over the mess of bodies and ran back out into the
hot desert air. We rushed to the cab and got in. Now what?
No keys. Uh-oh. We shouted to Earl, still in the trunk. He
didn't have any spares on him. Not that it would matter; he
was in the trunk. Uh-oh. We got out of the cab.

"Fuck, now what!" I shouted, as we ran around the cab,
not knowing where to go or what to do.

"Run!" shouted Justin as Zahir came limping out of the
house, Honey's gun in hand.

So I ran-and ran-and ran. I had no idea where Justin
and Bradley ran to. And I couldn't hear anyone behind me
or see anyone to the side of me. I just ran until I couldn't run
anymore. Literally. I was, all of a sudden, stuck. The end of
Mary's property was protected by barbed wire. Mercifully,
the wire fence was only about four feet high or I might've
done some heavy-duty damage to my face. This way, I only
did damage to my clothes. They were, sadly, enmeshed in the wire. And pulling and yanking on it was having a deleterious effect. My shirt and jeans were tearing and the barbed
wire was sinking into my flesh. Major ouch. I felt like a
giant fly caught in a metal spider web.

So you see, I had no choice. I slid my arms down through
the short sleeves, which were pinned up on the fence, and
pulled free. Then I gingerly removed myself from my shirt.
My sneakers and pants went practically the same way. I
only wish I had had enough time to remove them from the
fence. Once I was liberated, I turned my head-only to see
Zahir and Honey in the distance, running my way. What
choice did I have? Again I ran. Unfortunately, I had only
two options: left and right. Straight ahead was very much
out of the question now.

"Eeny, meeny, miney-" The ho-mo went left. I was
running away from Mary's house, and that seemed like the
smart way to go. It felt like forever until I came to a large
rock by the fence. I was able to stand on it and leap over the
darn thing. We were out in the desert, so I landed on soft,
yet oh-so-hot sand. Still, I was off Mary's property and on
my way to...to...Fuck. I WAS OUT IN THE DESERT! No
phone, no lights, no motor cars, not a single luxury.

That's when I spotted it, about a football field away.
A church. Talk about your signs from God. My legs were
getting awfully sore by that point, but I ran as fast as I
possibly could until I made it inside.

"Hello. Anybody home?" I shouted, but only got my
echo in return. I guess God was on a break. A moment later,
I heard another, more ominous echo. It was a gunshot.

And that's how I ended up in this closet, alone, in my
underwear, with nothing to protect me but a bunch of
Bibles. And since you don't have a gun (do you?), I'd say I
was up shit creek. (Though I'm sure as heck praying a lot for
any and all alternatives.)

Ten minutes later, I hear scampering noises outside the door.
My heart is racing.

Bang! Bang! Two gunshots somewhere within the
church.

And then, more footsteps. The sound is getting louder
as whoever is outside approaches my hiding space. I have to
pee, badly, or shout, loudly, but I'm thinking that neither is
a good idea.

The footsteps stop and a hand turns the knob of the
closet door. I've spent a lifetime coming out of the closet,
only to be killed in one. Is this bitter irony, or what? When
the door opens, a shaft of light pours into my hiding space
and temporarily blinds me. All I can see is the figure of a
man standing outside the door and a...a...a gun. Pointed
right at me.

"Ahhhhhhhhhhhh."

You know how they say your whole life flashes before
you when you have a near-death experience? Well, I may
or may not have seen that. I sort of, um, passed out. The
last thing I remember seeing was that gun pointing at me.
(Hey, at least I didn't pee my undies.) And, thank goodness,
when I regained consciousness, it was Detective Shelling
standing over me and not one of the baddies. This is what
happened...

"You okay?" he asked me.

"Sure Randy, how 'bout yourself?" I was still in a daze.
He grinned and said he was fine.

I snapped out of it. "Where's Justin and Bradley? They're
in trouble-"

"Calm down. Calm down. I'm sure they're fine. We have
the property surrounded. Don't you worry, everything will
be all right," he said, trying to soothe my rattled nerves.
Naturally, I felt guilty. What with...

"Um, Detective Shelling, I have something that belongs
to you."

He looked puzzled. I handed him back his badge. (Yes,
I'd been carrying it around the whole time in my undiesit made me feel safe, for some strange reason.) He turned
several shades of red and gladly accepted it.

"Don't worry. I won't mention it to anyone."

He nodded his approval and helped me to my feet. I was
anxious to find my friends and make sure that they were
okay. First thing, I had to wrap a choir robe around myself
before we left the church. I wasn't about to go prancing
through the desert in my skivvies.

When we went outside, we saw Zahir lying on the
ground, his hands handcuffed behind his back, with blood
seeping from a wound in his calf. He looked fairly miserable. I, of course, was thrilled.

"Don't worry, an ambulance is on the way for him,"
Detective Shelling said.

"Oh, I'm not worried. Let him fry out here for a while,"
I said, blowing a kiss to my ex-whatever it was he was. "By
the way," I said, "how did you find us?"

"We spotted you leaving the Atlantis and followed you
here. The police sent for backup almost immediately. We
were about to rush the house when you three came tearing
out. I ran after you and Zahir. And I'm sure someone
rescued your friends."

I felt much better after we walked back to the house and
I spotted them sitting on the front porch, none the worse for
wear, apparently.

"Hark, an angel approaches," Justin hollered. He and
Bradley stood up to greet us.

"Funny. You wouldn't know an angel if he ran up and bit
you in the ass," I quipped, and hugged them both.

"Are you making passes again?" Justin joked back.

"Shut up and hug me," I said, tears streaming down my face. The past several hours had finally caught up with me.

"Stop your bawling. All the bad people have been caught
and are on their way to jail. The three of us are safe and
sound. And, after we testify tomorrow, we'll be fifty thousand dollars richer. All in all, I'd say that we've had a pretty
good month. Minus the death and stuff," Justin reasoned.
I smiled, not the least bit astonished at his attitude. It was
par for the course.

"Told you so," Bradley interjected.

"Told us what?" I asked.

"That it's always darkest before the dawn," he said.

"Guess we never should have doubted Caesar, huh,
Justin?" I asked.

"All hail, Caesar," he responded.

"All hail me," Bradley said, and the three of us walked
away from the house and into the sunset.

WELL, WE DIDN'T ACTUALLY WALK INTO THE SUNSET.
Actually, we walked back over to Earl's cab. In all the confusion, no one had thought to rescue poor Earl. And we didn't
have the keys. They were still on Zahir. Luckily, for Earl
anyway, the police were able to pry the trunk open and rescue
him. He was a little shaken, very parched, and a bit irritable,
what with no cigarettes the whole time and all, but he was
glad that we were all still alive. (Amen to that, right?)

So here's what's happened in the month since we made it
out of that mess...

Justin, Earl, Bradley, and I all testified the next day, as
did Ahmed. The police and the F.B.I. are still gathering
up the evidence, which there was a lot of. Mary kept good
records, the dear. They'll be tried and sentenced sometime
soon. Chris keeps us informed, and he said that Bart will
certainly get life without parole, and Zahir, Honey, and
Mary will all get a minimum of fifty years to life without
parole for more than a dozen felonies, including attempted
murder and kidnapping.

Ahmed is already free, but has to report to a probation
officer once a month. He's living with Earl. Chris says they
make a cute couple. I have a hard time picturing that, but
wish them well. Earl has quit his cabbing and his smoking
and gone to work with his brother. Recent experiences have
made him appreciate life and family more, or so I hear.
Good for him, right?

Glenda got a job at the new Edges, the one that's in our
old location. She's hard at work making sure that the gay
and lesbian section is still in place and thriving. And, as she
likes to say, keeping her friends close and her enemies closer.
Personally, I say it's her new butch boss, Helen, but I don't
say it to Glenda's face. One near-death encounter is enough
for me, thank you very much.

And Bradley? Well, the jury's still out on that one. I wish
I could say that he packed his toga and moved to San Francisco, but I can't. As Bradley (or Mel Brooks) would say,
"It's good to be the king." But he and Justin do talk regularly. And Justin has been back to Vegas once and Bradley's
been here once. For Justin, that's a long-term relationship.
I'm amazed, but keeping quiet. Telling Justin one thing
amounts to him doing the opposite. Still, it's nice to see him
happy and occupied, for a change.