Divas Las Vegas (38 page)

And as for little old me? Well, we're still waiting on our
reward. Chris says it could take a while. The federal government is never too eager to part with its money. But we will
get it, he assures us. I'm not holding my breath. I've never
been one to count chickens, hatched or otherwise. Anyway,
I still have, more or less, my thirty thousand from the sale
of the bookstore to live off until I can find a real job. All my
years with Justin have taught me nothing if not how to live
off a sizable nest egg.

Actually, I'm seriously thinking about taking the money
and getting my own cab. Smoke free, of course. After all,
you know what they say: if you can't beat 'em, join 'em. Oh, and Chris says that the F.B.I. is always looking for a few
good men. You know what I told him? "Who isn't?" In any
case, I'm young, mostly, and who knows what'll happen.
I've learned one very important lesson from all this, though,
and that's to live life day by day and to enjoy it while I can.
And that's what I intend to do.

Now-what about that pesky vase?

We didn't leave Las Vegas and go directly home. That
was planned from the get-go. The vase was still with us,
though now it was protected in a wooden crate and not an
old backpack. Instead, we flew to Kansas to surprise my
mom. We arrived at midday. She was home, cleaning and
watching TV, when we pulled up in our rental car. (We were
still kind of shaky around taxis.)

"Well, my goodness, what on earth are you boys doing
here?" she asked, dragging us inside.

Once we had explained that everything was all right,
and she had eagerly fixed us a snack, we sat down in
the living room and told her we had something for her.
We placed the crate in front of her and watched as she
opened it. I almost started to hyperventilate as she gently
pried the thing open, one side at a time. The look on
her face went from bewilderment to surprise to shock.
Justin and I felt as if we were at the racetrack watching
our fifty-to-one horse cross the finish line way out ahead
of the pack.

Finally she held the vase in her hands for the first time
in many years.

"Well?" I shouted.

"Well... I don't know what to say," she said.

"Well, say something."

"Well, I hope you boys didn't go to too much trouble,"
she said, looking up at us with tears in her eyes.

Justin and I looked at each other and grinned.

"No, ma'am, not too much trouble," we said.

The vase immediately went back in the corner of the
living room.

No one's allowed to touch it.

Trust me, no one wants to.

ROB ROSEN LOVES HAAGEN-DAIS CHOCOLATE CHOCOLATE
Chip ice cream, but feels guilty about eating it; he opts
instead for Ben & Jerry's Cherry Garcia Low Fat Frozen
Yogurt. (See what you learn by reading this far!) When not
calorie-counting (and watching his carb intake), he thinks
of new and innovative ways to grow his facial hair. Seriously. In his spare time, what little is left, he's busy writing.
Divas Las Vegas is his second novel. Sandwiched between
these (on whole grain bread, of course), he's written for well
over fifty anthologies. Rob lives with his strikingly handsome husband, Kenny, in San Francisco. You can visit him
at www.therobrosen.com or contact him at robrosen@
therobrosen.com.