Fast and Loose (16 page)

Phil burst out laughing. “So what we have here is the teacher now becomes the pupil. Somehow I think this is very fitting. I don't know why. I knew when I picked the two of you, I was on the money.

“I guess it's okay to tell you this now. I almost didn't pick you, Mary Alice. It was a tie between you and LB-Nine. Cyber name Lady Bug Nine. She was your match in every way, but there was something in her eyes that didn't sit well with me. I can't explain it any better than that. Your eyes, Mary Alice, were full of wonder and excitement. I couldn't see anything in hers. Just so you know, I never regretted choosing you.”

“What happened to her?” Abner asked.

Phil waved his arm. “She's about. I check on her from time to time,” he said vaguely. “First thing tomorrow morning, we'll get to that. Tonight is for talking. Three friends talking, getting to know each other,” Phil added.

Abner felt light-headed. This was way too easy. But at the same time, he wasn't picking up on anything negative. “You said you gave it all away and didn't keep a penny, right?”

“Right.”

“Do you have enough money to pay it back?”

Phil laughed again. “Kids, I have so much money, I could repay that debt ten times over. Now that you're putting me on the straight and narrow, I think you could probably convince me to pay interest.”

“You would do that?” Mary Alice asked, her eyes popping wide.

“If we're going to do it, then we need to do it right. How about a nice chilled glass of wine?”

“That would be . . . lovely,” Mary Alice said.

“Yes, lovely,” Abner said, echoing her words.

Five minutes later, Phil was pouring wine into exquisite cut-glass wine flutes. “What should we drink to?” he asked.

“I think we should drink to tomorrow,” Abner said.

And that was what they did.

With gusto.

Chapter 14

M
aggie nibbled on her thumbnail as she gazed out the window of the taxi that was taking her to Kitty Passion's ranch. She admitted to herself that she was a tad nervous. Why, she didn't know. She was a pro. She could handle herself in any situation and always managed to come out on top. This, though, was different. Here she was, working on a lie of her own making. Not that she couldn't carry off the lie . . . She could. It was the twenty-five or so women who supposedly had lived the truth of her lie.

As she continued to chew on her cuticle, she let her thoughts take her back to the lunch at the Cat & Cradle. She'd formed a snap opinion right out of the gate, which was unlike her. Why had she done that? Was it because she had felt inferior, given that the women were all beautiful showgirls and she was a dowdy plain Jane? Compared to them, she was a mutt at the Westminster Kennel Club Dog Show as she tried to compete. No, it was more than that.

On the surface, the women were all smiles, friendly, but . . . maybe that was it. It was a surface thing, a facade they were presenting to the world, when in reality they were anything but who they were pretending to be. That was it! It was all an act. She remembered a glimpse, a spark, a hastily spoken word they had hoped went unnoticed. They were a group of bitter, hateful women bent on destroying the man who had . . . what? Trifled with their affections? Lied to them? Broke promises? Led them down the primrose path, where they found nothing at the end? Certainly enough to make one angry, but not to the point of... whatever they were planning.

She wished she knew what it was that was going to go down that would put an end to Dixson Kelly. When something was over, you simply moved on. What was it about these women that had forced them to band together to wreak vengeance on Kelly? The sheer number of them that he'd trifled with? Anger at themselves for not being smart enough to see through his promises and lies? The loss of the fairy tale, at the end of which they all lived happily ever after?

Maggie made a snorting sound. If you truly wanted happily ever after, you got a dog or a cat who would love you unconditionally while you waited for Mr. Perfect to show up at your door. And if he was a no-show, at least you had the dog or cat to keep you company.

She leaned forward to speak to the taxi driver. “How much farther?”

“According to the GPS, two more miles. I've never had a fare out this way, so I can't be sure. Are you running late?”

Maggie didn't know if she was running late or not. She was simply showing up, and whatever happened, happened.

She leaned back against the seat. She hated events like this, where she was winging it, as opposed to going in with a plan. A plan was always good, even when things went awry. And she had no backup out here in nowhere land, with no place to go if she had to beat a hasty retreat. Then there were the odds she'd have to combat. Twenty-five or so women against her. Her thoughts started to run wild. The first thing she should do when she got to the ranch was find out where the ten thousand chickens were that Kitty Passion had said she had. Find out where they were so she could run to their roosts and let them loose. Then what? Chicken poop everywhere. People slipping and sliding all over the place, herself included. As far as plans went, it was the best she could come up with. Then a horrible thought hit her. She didn't know much about chickens, but she did know they roosted at night. Now, where had she heard that? Well, if things got dicey, she'd just have to wake them up and hope for the best.

“We're here, lady!” the cabdriver said.

Maggie looked out the window.
Nice place
, she thought. Low-slung ranch-style house that looked like it was built out of natural fieldstone. Large chimneys sprouted from the sides and roof. She counted four. Fireplaces. Fireplaces were cozy. Homey. Pruned shrubbery, green lawn out here in the desert. Underground sprinkler system of some kind. Rows and rows of one-story buildings, all painted white. Modern chicken coops. The air smelled like chickens. She swallowed hard. She hated the smell.

Maggie paid the driver, adding a generous tip, grabbed her backpack, and got out of the taxi. She could hear voices and laughter as she walked up the flagstone walkway, which was bordered with spring flowers. The voices and laughter were coming from the back of the low, sprawling ranch house. She detoured and headed in that direction, where she was welcomed with open arms as the women swirled around her.

The mood was jovial, the laughter high-pitched.
Almost
, Maggie thought,
verging on hysterical
.

She counted seven open bottles of wine on the long picnic table, along with a dozen or so beer bottles. Obviously, the others had gotten here much earlier than she had. She couldn't help but wonder if that was on purpose.

“Wine or beer?” Kitty asked.

Maggie stared at her host. She liked her, liked the way she'd come to her aid at the Cat & Cradle. She wore no makeup because she didn't need it. Her skin was tanned and flawless; her lashes were long, natural, and curled upward; her lips a natural pink. She herself was drinking ginger ale. She wore cutoff blue jeans and a well-worn T-shirt that said
PEACE
on the front and the back. Ten-dollar Walmart sneakers graced her feet. She smiled, hugged Maggie, and popped a Bud Light for her.

“I'm not much of a drinker,” Maggie said.

“Me either. I'm diabetic.”

Maggie wasn't sure what, if anything, she should say to that confession, so she just nodded in understanding. “Are all those low buildings where you keep the chickens?” she asked after she remembered her quasi plan.

“Yep, all ten thousand of them. The other buildings over to the left are where the workers stay. Actually, they're mini-apartments. I have thirty employees. All good people. We need to patrol at night and keep torches lit, so the coyotes don't come out after the chickens. We have wolves and stray dogs that are part wolf. In some respects, it is a hard business, but I'm getting used to it. I actually like it better than working the Vegas clubs. Showgirl to chicken rancher! I get a kick out of myself sometime.”

Maggie laughed. She liked this young woman and was having a hard time with the why and the how of her being involved with the rest of the women milling about. And yet . . .

“Do whatever makes you happy, Kitty. That's what life is all about. How did you get involved in”—Maggie waved her arms about to indicate the other women—“all of this?”

“It's a long story. I'm not actually
involved
. It's more like I'm doing a favor for some of the girls. Please don't feel like you have to—”

“Grill's ready!” one of the women shouted.

Whatever she was about to say ended with Kitty running over to the patio, where the grill awaited the thick Kobe-beef steaks that Vegas was known for, piled high on a huge platter.

Maggie blinked, then blinked again. The scene she was watching reminded her of the sisters out at Myra's farm as they worked in sync at mealtime. How many times had she participated in that very action? Too many to count, that's how many. But—and there was always a
but
to situations like this—there was an undercurrent here, a frenzied, almost frantic rush to cook, to eat, to drink so they could get down to whatever it was they were going to get down to and share with her. If she didn't screw things up. She needed to start acting.

Maggie meandered over to the serving table to pick up her plate and cutlery. She smiled, a sickly effort, as she made small talk.

“You look sad,” Misty Sanchez said lightly. “This is girls' night. You're with friends here, Maggie. We're all here for you. We meant what we said today at lunch. We'll do whatever we can for you. Always remember, there is strength in numbers.”

Maggie nodded and mumbled something under her breath. Misty leaned closer. “What did you say?”

Maggie looked up, tears puddling in her eyes. “That guy I told you about . . . he fired my brother this afternoon. I found out when I got back to the hotel. My brother, my only living relative, is blaming me. I never should have come here. I'm such a fool. But the heart wants what the heart wants. I'm going home in the morning. He told Jack to clear out his things. And he told him he was going to ban him from Babylon.” Sobs shook her shoulders.

“Hey, girls! Come here and listen to this! Tell them what you just told me, Maggie! Never mind. I'll tell them. That rat that dumped Maggie—he just fired her brother this afternoon and kicked him out of Babylon!”

The shocked silence bothered Maggie for some reason.

Kitty turned from the grill, her beautiful eyes narrowed to slits. “Why?”

“Because of me, that's why,” Maggie wailed. “Because I was a pest when I asked for answers. I wouldn't go away and insisted on a face-to-face. Jack . . . I think Jack might have said something to him. I don't know for sure. Now he'll blackball Jack, and he'll never get another job in Vegas. All because of me. That man has some serious clout,” she continued to wail.

“Well, honey, we have some serious clout of our own,” Kate Davis, a tall, leggy redhead, said with spirit.

The others shouted their agreement.

Kitty flipped the steaks. “Where is your brother now?”

“Packing his stuff up. He was staying in one of those apartments that Babylon owns that guys share. Kind of like a dormitory, but with all kinds of privileges. The hotel pays half, and the guys pay half. He didn't even give him twenty-four hours. Just told him to go
now
and to take his sister with him. Meaning me, as I am the sister. What a louse he is. How could I ever have loved someone like that? My God, how?”

That was some pretty good acting, Maggie thought as she blew her nose into a wad of paper napkins. “I just want to go home. Can someone call me a cab? I'll go straight to the airport and maybe get on standby. I don't want to be here anymore. I can't take it. Now my brother blames me and hates me at the same time.” She let loose with a fresh waterfall of tears and decided she was almost Academy Award material.

“You aren't going anywhere,” the women chorused as they gathered around her and led her to a deep, comfortable-looking chaise longue. Suddenly, there was a glass of wine in her hand and a thick circle of women staring down at her.

“Listen up, Maggie Spritzer, because we are going to tell you a story you are not going to believe. We want and need your full attention here. Do we have it, Maggie?” Lena Adams asked.

Lordy, Lordy, here it comes
, Maggie thought. She sniffled and nodded.

“Take the steaks off, Kitty, and get over here!” Lena shouted.

Maggie turned off her tears, and her jaw dropped and her eyes almost popped out of her head as she listened to the women's accounts of their relationships with Dixson Kelly. From time to time, she managed a sputtered expletive or two to show she was into it, along with the women.

“That's why we formed this little club and call ourselves the Dixson Kelly Alumnae Club. We just voted you in as a member. We are going to get even with that son of a bitch. And here is the best part, Maggie. There are more of us. Some of the girls couldn't get here today, because their schedules changed. We numbered forty at last count. That's forty women that bastard conned,” Lena said.

“Forty! Did you say forty? I don't believe this! I can't believe this! I do believe it. That rat fink. Am I forty-one?” Maggie let loose with a tortured scream of denial.

“We have a plan.”

Thank God someone does
, Maggie thought. “What kind of plan? Are you going to kill him? Although killing is too good. He needs to suffer the way he made us suffer, and he has to pay for firing Jack. What's the plan?”

“We are going to set him up, frame him, then rob the casino!” Lena continued.

Maggie almost jumped out of her skin. “You mean like that movie
Ocean's Eleven
?”

“No, no, nothing that elaborate. We have it all figured out. And we have a secret weapon!” Lena said. “And she's standing right over there, our ‘hostess with the mostest,' as the saying goes. Kitty is our secret weapon. You know that old saying, ‘You always want what you can't have'? Well, Dixson Kelly wants Kitty so bad, he can't see straight. She's stiff-armed him for months now. She has him right where she wants him. Excuse me . . . right where we want him. All we have to do is pick a time and a place and go for it.”

“But how . . . the security . . . What makes you think you won't get caught?” Maggie said, dithering. Robbing the casino, even playing a pretend part in it, wasn't something she wanted to think about. Not now, not ever.

“Well, for one thing, Gwen Sanders and Dona Jordan have been dating the two cops who drive the Guarda armored truck with the money. And Erin and Pam are in serious relationships—at least the guys think they're serious—with the two drivers in the backup vehicle. The girls have been picking their brains for months now. We've just been waiting for the right moment, and today, when you walked into that restroom and met Hana, we all knew it was meant to be. We just haven't chosen a date yet. Why aren't you looking as excited as we are?” Lena asked suspiciously.

“I'm in shock, that's why,” Maggie sputtered. And she was in shock. Of all the things she had thought they might come up with to get even with Dixson Kelly, this particular method of revenge had never entered her mind.
Well, damn.

“Do you approve or disapprove?” Kitty asked. Her voice was so cool and flat, Maggie felt herself shivering.

Be careful
, she warned herself.
This is uncharted territory.