Divas Las Vegas (36 page)

We drank and celebrated and, for a change, relaxed.
Vegas, after all, had not been a stress-free environment for
us. And when Chris told us that we'd have to testify against
Bart the next day, we were so happy to be among friends,
with tall margaritas and a stack of chips for each of us,
that we didn't even flinch. We said we'd be there and we
left it at that. Though, in the back of my wee little brain, I
was secretly dreading the event. It was fine by me if I never
saw that creep again. But in a few days I knew it would all
be over, so I pushed my fears deep, deep down, I put on a
happy face, and I rolled merrily along.

"Well, boys, I've got some F.B.I.-ing to do. You'll be
okay without me until tomorrow?" Chris asked, getting up
to leave.

"Do we have a choice?" I asked.

"Mm, no," he said, "Now give me a kiss goodbye."

"Yes, please."

And then Justin and I were alone again, though we knew
there were friendly eyes following us somewhere nearbythat was somewhat comforting. And we only had a day until
we had to testify. We knew it would go by fast. And there
were worse things than a day of drinking and gambling in
Vegas, right? Imagine if we'd witnessed all we'd witnessed
in, say, Detroit.

"So what'll it be? A drink, some gambling, a show?"
Justin asked.

"Yes, yes, and yes," I responded. "But I don't think you'll
appreciate my choice of venue."

"God, no, please."

"Aw, come on. I'll never ask you again," I pleaded.

"Dude, I seriously doubt that I'm ever gonna follow you
to Vegas again, so you'll never get the chance."

"So this will be the last time, then. A perfect reason to
go," I tried.

"That doesn't make a lick of sense, but I'm too tired and
too much in need of a drink, or six, to argue. Besides, I have
to go out with Bradley tonight and it's probably best if I'm
not alone with him."

"That's a surprise, but I'm not going to argue."

I suppose Justin knew he'd have to go back to San Francisco and Bradley would have to stay in Vegas, so why should
he open his heart up to the possibility of him and Bradley?
Sad, but true. And it would be no fun seeing Honey again all
alone. Plus, I wanted to fill her in on all the recent events.

After a couple of rounds of drinks, Bradley arrived for his
promised date and we were off again to the Atlantis. If he
was upset at the third wheel thing, he didn't let on. I guess
he knew, as well, that the distance problem would never
work itself out. And Justin was smiling, so I was happy to
have him along.

"Are you ready to witness the rebirth of Miss Patsy
Cline?" I asked Bradley as the cab approached the hotel.

"Huh? Is that what we're going to see. Jeez, the chick's
dead. Let her and that yodel of hers rest in peace," he replied.
I shot Justin a look that said he'd better keep quiet, and I
kept my mouth shut at Bradley's awful remark. Something
was obviously amiss in their gay gene makeup, a faulty
chromosome or something.

Moments later, we arrived and I gleefully skipped into
our old hotel. Jacques, thank goodness, was nowhere in
sight. I was hopeful we'd be able to watch the performance,
fill in Honey about my vase, and get out of there with no confrontations. There was a show starting in about half an
hour, so we settled into our seats, right up front, ordered
several strong drinks, and patiently waited for the festivities
to begin.

"Ladies and gentleman, please welcome to the stage, the
star of the show, the lovely Miss Patsy Cline." The show
had started. Yippee! And Honey looked and sounded as
wonderful as the last time we saw her. Justin and Bradley
grimaced but otherwise remained well behaved. I, on the
other hand, was tickled pink.

She stepped onto the stage in a fabulous, all-white leather
ensemble, complete with white fringe tassels on her jacket
and pants. And I swear, as soon as she opened her mouth
to sing, my heart leaped to my throat. Even though I had
heard her before, I was still amazed at her ability to imitate
the legendary country singer. The moment was pure magic,
for me anyway; my cohorts were less than enthused, though
they were quite happy with their hurricane glasses full of
Malibu rum and pineapple juice.

I focused on her face as she made her way around the small
stage. Her smile was dazzling and radiant as she scanned the
crowd. That is, until she spotted our little gaggle. Was she
shocked? Was she thrilled to see us? Was she rattled by our
presence? Who knows? All I know is that when she saw us
sitting there, with me beaming up at her from the front row,
well, she just sort of had a momentary pause. Kind of like a
midsong hiccup. And the smile on her face disappeared for
just an instant and was replaced by-as best I can put it, by
nothing. She just sort of went blank. Ever the professional,
however, the moment passed in just an instant. It didn't go
unnoticed by the three of us, though.

"What was that?" Justin asked in a whisper.

"Dunno. Guess she was surprised to see us," I answered.

"But was that a good surprise or a bad surprise?" Bradley
asked.

"Well, she didn't fall off the stage or anything, so I'd say
it was a good one. Guess we'll have to wait and see once the
show's over," I said, but was still unsure. A good surprise
would've been a smile and a wave. But she was performing,
so what could she really do, right?

After that, the show went off without a hitch. She was
lovely and charming and richly talented. I was in Patsy
heaven. My friends were happy playing with each other
beneath the table and getting good and liquored up, which
was fine by me. At least they remained quiet. An hour and
several drinks later, the show was over and we hurried
backstage.

I knocked on the door and we waited patiently for the
star to great us. It took several minutes, but she finally
answered.

"Well, boy howdy, what a pleasant surprise to see you
fellers back again," she said, ensconced in an all-white terrycloth bathrobe and smiling brilliantly at us. "What brings
you back to Las Vegas?"

We told her the whole story, briefly, from when we last
saw her to our upcoming testimony, including a quick
introduction to our new friend Bradley. She nodded politely
throughout, but seemed somewhat distant. I just chalked it
up to postshow exhaustion. Toward the end, she received a
call on her cell phone and asked us to wait a moment. Justin
leaned in and whispered to me, "How did she know we'd
left Vegas?"

My brain started to hum. True, yes, we had never called
to say goodbye or anything. And the press wasn't involved
yet. But I assumed she just figured, after such a long time
between visits, that we had left Vegas and then returned.
Made sense, right? Least that's what I whispered back to
Justin. He nodded an okay and we waited for Honey to get
off the phone. It was a brief call consisting mostly of mm-
hzmms and uh-huhs, and it ended with a "Right now."

"Sorry about that, fellers. Business call," she explained,
setting the phone down. "Well, that was some story, all
right. Glad to see you all are okay now, though. What an
awful time you must've had."

"Pretty bad, yes," Justin replied, and then added, "But
it seems to be almost at an end. Anyway, thanks for everything you've done. We better get going now."

"No," she said, a little too loudly, and then jumped
up and moved to her minirefrigerator. "I mean, no,
not yet. We need to have a farewell drink before you all
skedaddle off. In celebration of finding the vase and everything." She quickly regained her composure and poured
four glasses of champagne. I looked at Justin for some
direction.

"Well, okay, one drink, thanks, but then we have to
meet our friends for dinner," he said to her, and Bradley
and I nodded in agreement.

"Sure, boys, just the one." She said, raising her glass to
us. "To justice!"

"To justice!" we echoed. Seemed an appropriate toast.

"Okay, then, Honey, thanks for the champagne and
everything. Until next time," Justin said, moving for the
door. Bradley and I were right behind him, eager to get out
of her cramped dressing room.

"Sorry, boys, there ain't gonna be a next time," she said
behind us, and we heard a "click." (And you thought you
only heard lines like that in bad spaghetti Westerns.)

The three of us turned to look at her. "Wh-what's that
for, Honey?" I stuttered, now staring down the barrel of a
small handgun.

"Well, now, that's a funny thing," she said, indicating
with the gun that we should move away from the door and
have a seat.

"Funny ha-ha or funny strange?" I asked, trembling just
a bit as I took my seat again.

"Ha-ha for me, strange for you," she replied. "You see,
boys, you've done stuck your noses in a bad pile of horse
dung, and now I'm afraid you're gonna be buried in it."

Gulp. I liked the chlorine odor problem much better.
Now we had crap to contend with.

It was time for Justin's brand of calm under pressure.
"Okay, I see you're upset, Honey, but you can't kill all three
of us, at least not here and with that gun. Best you could do
is injure one of us, and then the other two would rush you
and hold you down until the police arrive. Now, what say
you put the gun down and we talk about this like civilized
adults. I'm sure there's something we can work out."

Hey, I was all for that. Too bad she wasn't.

"Oh, I'm not gonna kill you fellers," she said, smiling,
just as the door to her dressing room opened. "But he is."

And in walked, you guessed it, Zahir. And he didn't look
happy to see us. Needless to say, the feeling was mutual.
"You fuckers are very dead," he said as he quickly shut the
door behind him, brandishing a larger version of Honey's
shotgun. (Man, I really have an uncanny ability to pick
men, don't I?)

I guess I should've realized that Zahir wasn't smart
enough or cunning enough to be the leader of the gang.
Honey's hick routine must've been just that, a routine. She
certainly fooled all of us. And her surprise at seeing us there
was starting to make sense, too. Without our testimony, and
with only Ahmed and Bart to back it up, the case against
Zahir wasn't nearly as strong and the tie-in to Honey would
be doubtful. Now here we were, right in her lap. She must've
been fucking thrilled to see us there in the front row. Talk
about your sitting ducks.

"Okay, then, fellers, celebratin's over. Time for us to
leave," she informed us, indicating with the gun that we
should move to the door. And with her gun in my back and
Zahir's gun in Justin's, the three of us were led out of the dressing room, through the casino, and out to the parking
lot, where there was one more surprise waiting for us.

"Fuck," I said in disbelief.

"Now, now, is that a way to talk in front of a lady?"
Honey asked, then shoved us all in the backseat of Earl's
still banged-up cab. There was that familiar stench I had so
hoped I'd never have to smell again. But no Earl. Well, no
Earl that I could see, but as soon as we were all in, I could
hear him kicking and screaming in the trunk. (And I swear
I could smell him, too.)

Zahir let out a sinister chuckle as he started the cab and
drove us out of the parking lot to Lord knows where.

"What's so funny?" Honey asked him.

"It looks like we are one big, happy family again," he
said, laughing now. (Talk about dysfunctional.)

"Just drive, Zahir, and no more jokes, please," she
ordered. She was, evidently, very much in charge. Zahir
obeyed, but I could see, in the rearview mirror, a sneer
on his face. Knowing Zahir as I did, which was not well
enough, apparently, I was sure he didn't like taking orders
from a woman.

"So, Honey, what exactly is your involvement in all of
this?" Justin asked. I too wanted to know, but wasn't ballsy
enough to inquire.

"You'll be dead soon, why bother?" she said. (What a
bitch, right?)

"True, but humor me," he replied.

"Let's just say that celebrity impersonation doesn't
exactly pay the bills," she said. (Neither does female impersonation, by the way.) "And my boys do a good job keeping
the money rolling in."

"But not good enough, huh, Zahir?" Justin added,
causing a low grumble from the driver's seat.

Honey spoke for Zahir. "Everything was fine until you
horse's patoots started nosing around, causing trouble." The conversation was starting to sound like a bad Scooby-
Doo episode.

"If we said we were sorry, would you let us go?" I tried.

"You're gonna have to ask the boss that," she said.
"Lucky for us you all showed up, or we was gonna have to
close up shop. Now it looks like we're back in business."

Justin whispered in my ear, "I pick the entertainment
next time."

To which I replied, glumly, "What next time?"

"It's always darkest before the dawn," Bradley chimed
in. We looked at him as if he was crazy, but at least one of
us wasn't giving up hope.

A long while later I noticed something familiar. We were
driving in the direction our horses had traveled several
weeks earlier.

"Where we headed?" I asked. Though I thought I already
knew the answer.

"We're not headed anywhere. We're here already," she
said as we pulled up to Mary's house. "Ready to meet the
boss, fellers?"

Hell, no was what I was thinking. Oh, I was also thinking
about how badly I had judged people of late. If you had
asked me a few weeks earlier what I thought about these
individuals who now held our very lives in their hands, I
would've said that they were the salt of the earth. Now they
wanted to bury us in it.

Zahir and Honey led us, at gunpoint, back into Mary's
home. It didn't seem quite so homey this time around. Mary
was there, watching her television and rocking back and
forth. She barely flinched when we walked in. I guess Maury
Povich was more interesting to her than we were. Only when
the commercial broke in did Mary decide to talk to us.