Tex (Burnout) (46 page)

“What have you brought me, then, hmmm?” he asked, stepping back and eyeing Sarah.

“Alfie, this is Sarah.”

The chef looked her up and down and then nodded. To Abby he said, “We have a bouillabaisse with a spicy rouille that is to die for. And a steak bearnaise with sweet potato straws.”

“Sounds amazing,” Abby replied.

The michelin star chef nodded and Abby made her way to the empty chef’s table. Sarah attempted to join her but was halted by the frenchman.

“No, no, no!” he said loudly. “We cook! You come!”

Sarah’s jaw dropped as a sous chef handed her a jacket with her own name embroidered in royal blue on the lapel. She glanced at Abby who grinned widely at her.

“Make it good!” Abby called out as she took a seat. “I’m starving!”

Alfie had decided that Sarah had worked hard enough to join Abby at the table in the corner. Sarah slid into the booth looking incredibly joyful as a waiter slid the plates onto the table.

“I can’t believe I cooked with Alphonse Remoude!” she gasped, grabbing a chilled water glass off the table and taking a huge gulp. “Oh my God!”

Abby took a bite of the seafood soup and moaned gratefully. “Well, you did an excellent job. This is awesome!”

“Do you know how to flambe a wine sauce?” Sarah asked.

“Nope,” Abby admitted.

“Well, I do now!”

Both women sipped the wine that the waiter had poured and giggled happily.

****

The men played three hands and were about to start a fourth, if they could get Easy to stop tucking chips into the brunette’s short shorts long enough to focus on dealing. But they were cut short by the hostess who had returned through the double doors.

“Your time is up, gentleman,” she announced with a hint of disappointment in her voice.

“What?” Easy protested. “I want to stay! Let’s stay!”

The hostess shook her head. “I’m afraid it’s not on your agenda,” she informed them. “But come see us again!”

The men gathered up their winnings after the waitresses cashed their chips in for them. Hawk tucked a large stack of bills into his jeans. “I feel like a high roller,” he declared.

Shooter laughed.

In the alley, Walter was waiting for them, and they climbed back into the Hummer. Before they pulled away he passed a manila envelope through the open partition. Shooter took it and opened it. Tex leaned across the seat for a better view. There was a flyer, another business card with Abby’s name on it, and a note in her handwriting.

A little bird told me that Vasquez is looking good tonight. Good luck! -A.R.

“What is it?” Tex asked, angling for a better look.

Shooter glanced at the flyer, the note, and then to Tex. “I think- I think your girlfriend just gave me an inside tip.”

“What?” Doc demanded and snatched the flyer away from Shooter. Then he took the accompanying note. “Holy shit,” he declared.

Easy examined the note. “Think it’s true?”

Hawk grunted. “I’m putting everything I got in my pocket on this kid,” he announced.

Easy made a face. “Well, I lost my shirt, but I’m so betting on this dude. Maybe I can get some of it back.”

Everyone laughed.

Walter drove them straight to the front doors of the venue but didn’t get out. Valets opened all the doors for the men and they emerged into the spotlights and raucous crowd gathering for a Friday Night Fight in Las Vegas. As Walter glided away in the Hummer limo, Shooter pulled out the business card and, as instructed on the back, showed it to the valet. The young man led him in through the front doors and waved over a woman in slacks and a fitted blazer with a security I.D. lanyard around her neck. Shooter again presented the card and the men were ushered past the teeming crowds of people trying to get to the arena.

The woman led them to the end of a hall, used a key to activate a private elevator, and they rode it three floors up. She directed them to a small, private viewing room overlooking the ring. Shooter grinned and took one of the middle seats, pushing it back so it reclined a little. The men placed bets with the besuited woman who returned with their billets as they raided the bar for ice cold beers.

****

After dinner at La Celestine, Abby swung the Caddy into a parking lot on the Strip and killed the engine. She waggled her eyebrows at Sarah. Sarah looked at the brightly lit building in front of them.

“Oh, come on,” Abby challenged. “Look but don’t touch, right?”

The two girls walked quickly across the parking lot and the bouncer held the door for them as Abby shuffled Sarah inside.

After her eyes adjusted, Sarah’s mouth dropped open. “Is is Ladies’ Night?” she asked quietly, taking it all in.

“It’s always Ladies’ Night here,” said a velvety voice behind them. Sarah jumped nervously as a perfectly chiseled shirtless man grinned at them.

Abby laughed, took Sarah’s hand and grabbed a table up front by the stage. Sarah gawked at the performers as Abby ordered them drinks.

When Sarah was halfway through her first Long Island, a lithe but well-built guy with a long blonde ponytail sidled up to their table. Sarah’s face turned bright red but she dutifully took one of the bills Abby had given her and closed her eyes as she tucked it into the waistband of his shorts. He blew her a kiss and danced away. Sarah giggled and took another long gulp of tea.

“He was hot,” Abby declared.

Sarah nodded. “But I only gave him a dollar.”

“Why?”

Sarah leaned forward and whispered conspiratorially, “Because Chris is bigger.”

Abby howled with laughter. “You’ve got a fine man. I can’t argue with that.”

Sarah smiled and nodded. “Mark’s nice, too.”

“Oh, yeah,” Abby concurred.

Sarah wrinkled her nose. Apparently bolstered by the cocktail she blurted out, “Does he really gag you?”

Abby guffawed as a group of out-of-towners at the next table eyed them with shocked expressions. Abby sipped her own martini and nodded.

“Is it awful?” Sarah asked, looking slightly appalled.

Abby shook her head. “I love it.”

Sarah looked as though she could not comprehend this. “But....why?!”

Abby thought for a minute, swirling her olive into her drink. “You ever had really bad sex? Like, it was his idea, but he’s got one eye on the tv the whole time and you could be anyone at all? Or a sock?”

Sarah shook her head.

“Well, consider yourself lucky,” Abby advised. “Because I have. And when Mark first gagged me, I thought I would lose it. But when I calmed down, I realized I’d never experienced anything like it.” She leaned forward in her chair. “When I’m gagged, and I can’t speak, it’s like here’s this absolutely gorgeous man, who is the most amazing lover I’ve ever had
ever,
and all he cares about, all he’s thinking about, is me. He’s watching my every reaction. He’s looking to see if I like what he’s doing. I’ve never been with a man who cared
that much
about whether or not I was happy. I’ve never been someone’s whole world like that.”

Sarah sat back in her chair, amazed. “I never thought of it like that.”

Abby shook her head. “I didn’t know it would be like that, either. But it’s the most amazing feeling. To know someone cares so much.”

****

After the fight was over, they headed back out front and waited for Walter. Once inside the Hummer, the older man grinned at them. “Win big?” he asked.

Hawk grinned back and pulled out a wad of cash and fisted it.

“Where are we off to next, Walt?” Easy asked, happily fingering his own, smaller stack of cash.

“Ice cream social, Sir.”

Easy looked crestfallen. “Huh?”

“Ice cream social. It’s the last stop.”

Easy grumbled and sat back in his seat. “What’s an ice cream social?” he grumbled.

“No idea and I don’t care,” Shooter replied. “I’m up for anything!”

Walter weaved through city traffic and put them back on the Strip in short order. Easy perked up when he pulled into the lot of a huge building that couldn’t be anything other than a strip club.

“Now, that’s what I’m talking about!” he shouted, slapping Doc on the shoulder.

Shooter frowned, though. “I don’t know,” he said quietly.

Easy shook his head. “Oh, no! This is a bachelor party! There are always strippers at a bachelor party! Slick knows that. It’s a universal rule!”

But Shooter just frowned. “Maybe I should call her.”

“You’re not calling anyone!” Easy yelled and launched himself out of the car. “No one’s coming between me and naked women!”

He sprinted for the door. Walter handed Shooter another business card that said nothing on the back. He reluctantly took it and climbed out of the car. Once inside, he presented it to the girl behind the counter who beamed at the men. She gestured for a group of women, one for each man, and the girls swarmed them.

They led the men into the main area, past the tables and the stages, and into a large private room. Shooter looked more and more anxious as they went. The room had chairs, all placed strategically in a circle. But not around a stage. They were surrounding a large, heart shaped bed with fitted plastic over the velvet mattress.

Another girl, topless with perky tits and an impossibly perkier ass scurried up to them. “Is one of you Shooter?” she purred.

The rest of the men glanced at their lieutenant.

Shooter squared his shoulders and looked directly into the face of the enemy, showing no fear. “Yes, Ma’am,” he said stoically “But I am not-”

The girl giggled and produced a card from behind her back. She handed it to the large man.

Surprised, Shooter seemed to forget what he was going to say and opened the card. He pulled out a small, handwritten note.

Looking is okay, the note said. Touching isn’t. Enjoy! Love, Slick

“Free pass!” Easy shouted. And the girls all cheered.

They bade the men to sit in the chairs and Easy pulled his girl directly into his lap. “What, pray tell,” he said into her ear, “is an Ice Cream Social?”

The girl giggled and wiggled on his lap. “You’ll see!” she declared.

And oh, did they see.

Two girls with ponytails, g-strings, and high heels wheeled in a small cart and placed it next to the bed.

The men watched in with a mix of adoration and amazement as the two little minxes climbed onto the bed, the cart within easy reach, and began to decorate each other as though they were living, breathing, ice cream sundaes.

At least the plastic sheets made sense now.

“Oh, my God,” Hawk moaned as the little blonde ate the dark-haired girl’s cherry, and then ate her cherry. Well, probably not her cherry, considering she was a stripper, but it was good to pretend.

A pretty little Asian girl sidled up next to Tex. “Want some company?” she purred, indicating that aside from Shooter, Tex’s lap was the only other that remained unoccupied.

Tex grinned, but shook his head. “No, ma’am,” he replied. “I’m playing by the same rules as my friend here,” he said, jerking his thumb at Shooter. He did, however, dig some bills out of his wallet. “But if you’d get me a shot of Jaeger and a beer, I’d be grateful.”

The woman toddled off on her impossibly high heels to complete the bar order.

Hawk lifted his own beer that he’d ordered a moment ago and held it out to Tex. “To Vegas,” he announced. And the other men approved.

“To Vegas!” they all joined in.

Easy grinned. “You should leave,” he told Tex. “Right now. You should go back to the hotel, grab that woman of yours, and take her straight to one of those little Elvis chapels.”

The men laughed. Tex smiled. “I don’t see myself getting married by the King,” he protested.

Hawk smirked. “I’m not one for marriage,” he declared. “But buy that little woman a leash or something, cowboy. Don’t let her get away.”