Vegas Sunrise (10 page)

“She probably was. You do it again, boy, and you'll find yourself in court. Sometimes you have to cut your losses and move on. Happened to me a time or two. You don't look back either. You might have to pay out some of those Thornton dollars if you ain't careful. You best think about that. What you need is a plan. Your ma wants you downstairs. The eats are ready to go on the table. It pays to mind your ma no matter how old you are. I'm going to ponder the matter for you. When I come up with a solution, I'll let you know. You come from good stock, so don't screw things up along the way.” His uncle's slap on the back almost propelled Birch across the room.

Dinner over, Jeff, Ruby, Josh Coleman and his son Colin prepared to leave. Their good-byes took half an hour before the parade started down the mountain.

“Time for family business,” Fanny said as she motioned for everyone to sit at the kitchen table. Marcus, Libby, and Harry adjourned to the living room where the children were watching a horror video.

“We're together again,” Fanny said in a choked voice. “Some decisions need to be made. Your uncle Simon's will has gone through probate. His holdings passed on to me. I didn't know . . . I thought he'd changed his will, but he didn't. It's a sizable fortune. I could pass it on and divide it among the four of you. I could also use the money to build more rehab centers. I tried to pay back the Hasegawa estate, but they refused the offer. Before your father died he . . . he had an idea. He sent me to Atlantic City to buy up some property. My thinking is this. We could build a casino there and either Birch or Jeff could operate it. It wouldn't be as grand as Babylon. My brothers could build it for a fraction of the cost of Babylon. We would, of course, give them a percentage. Sunny was in on the building from the ground up. I thought it might be a challenge for her to start on this. Providing you're up to it, honey.”

“Really, Mom? You'd trust me with something like that?”

“Sunny, I'd trust you with my life. Of course. You'll be in charge.”

“But, Mom, that's New Jersey. This is Nevada.”

“Did you forget about the center we built in Cape May? You could stay there while the building is going up. You could take Libby if she's willing to relocate for a while. I was hoping, Birch, that you would want to be part of it. I realize you have to discuss it with Celia. Ruby did tell me about her offer to you. I asked her if she could wait six months to see if . . . if you might change your mind.”

“What about Harry?”

“He goes where you go, Sunny, if he's willing,” Fanny said. “Let's take a vote.”

“Wait. Wait,” Sunny said. “I need to talk to Harry and Libby first.”

“I guess we know what the vote is going to be,” Sage grinned. “Mom, this is the best thing in the world for Sunny. I think it's going to hang on you, Birch. How does it stack up against free-range chickens?”

“You got my vote. When do you want to get this under way, Mom?”

“Brad and Daniel are standing by the phone. Either you or Sunny should call them. Marcus and I are leaving it all in your capable hands.”

“Did you vote?” Sunny demanded from the doorway.

“Didn't you tell us to wait for you?” Sage shouted. “Well, we're waiting.”

“Harry and Libby said yes.”

“Okay, let's vote. A show of hands will do nicely.” Four hands shot upward.

“Then it's a done deal. Marcus, we're ready to leave now.”

“I can do this, can't I, Mom? You aren't just handing me pity crumbs, are you?”

Fanny cupped her daughter's face in her hands. “Your dad said you could handle it. That's good enough for me. I would never pity you, honey. All I have for you is admiration. Your brothers and sister feel the same way. Don't ever think thoughts like that again. Marcus!”

“Marcus wants to see if the three-headed monster gobbles up Arizona,” Harry said.

“I saw that movie with Jake. Tell him a helicopter chops off all three heads. Time to go, Marcus!”

“It was nice seeing you again, Mrs. Reed. Thank you for the opportunity to go with Sunny and Harry. I'll watch over them.”

“I know you will, Libby.”

“I enjoyed seeing you again, Birch.”

Birch reached for Libby's outstretched hand. He held it a moment longer than necessary. He felt like a schoolboy as he grappled for suitable words. He wanted to say things like, you're prettier than the first spring flower or you're more beautiful than the first sunny day in summer. Instead he said, “Thanks for coming to Sunrise. I guess we'll be seeing more of each other as the days go on. Sunny was always a hands-on person.”

“That's good. I am, too. Hands-on, I mean.”

“Yeah, me too. That's the only way to go. Being right there, seeing, observing, reacting.”

Libby nodded as she withdrew her hand.

Birch turned as Sage offered up a sly wink. Birch felt warm all over. The warmth stayed with him all the way down the mountain.

The penthouse was dark and empty when Birch entered. He turned on the lights, checked the answering machine that was turned off. He looked around for a note and found none. He made a pot of coffee before he called Ruby. He explained the situation. “I hate putting you on hold, Ruby. I want to do this for Sunny. I hope you understand. I'll see you in six months. If you get bored, come to Atlantic City. Thanks for understanding.”

Birch carried his coffee into the living room. He kicked off his shoes, turned on the television set, and was asleep five minutes later. He didn't wake until eight o'clock the following morning. He showered, shaved, dressed, and was making coffee when Celia entered the kitchen.

“You made enough noise for six people,” she said, frowning. “Where are you going so early in the morning?”

“I have some things to do. I'm going to make this short and quick. I decided I don't want to live here in this penthouse and work at Babylon. Ruby offered me a job at the ranch that paid a half million a year with generous fringe benefits and bonuses. I turned her down last night. Instead of dividing Uncle Simon's estate among us, the family has decided to build a casino in Atlantic City. Sunny and I will be overseeing it and my uncles, Mom's brothers Daniel and Brad, will be building it. The pay is zip. That's as in zero, nada, nothing. I'm going out now to buy some work clothes, do some banking, then I'll be leaving later today to get things set up for Sunny, Harry, and their therapist. I'll be driving in Sunny's car. It's going to be a long trip since I can't drive the car more than forty miles an hour. I personally don't care if you go with me or not. Give me your answer when I get back. When I leave, the penthouse gets closed up tight.”

“Wait just a minute. You already made this decision?”

“After yesterday's incident you have no voice in anything I do. I will never forgive your behavior yesterday, nor will my family. I think you showed all of us who you really are. It was my misfortune to have married you.”

Celia stared at her husband as she tried to comprehend what he was saying. “You gave up a $100,000 job with free rent and a job offer that pays $500,000 plus bonuses, to work for free building a casino in another state!”

“Yep. Your dishes are still in the sink from the other night. I suggest you clean up the kitchen because I'm not going to do it.”

“Where does all your decision making leave me?”

Birch stared at his wife. Makeup was smeared all over her face in streaks. She must have fallen into bed without removing it. Where was the warm, caring, fresh-faced girl he'd married? Was it all an illusion? Who was this hard-as-nails-looking person staring at him with such righteous indignation?

“I plan to leave around four this afternoon. I'll drive through the night. If you decide to join me, be ready. If you elect to stay, I'll give you enough money to tide you over until you can get a job. The decision is yours. If you decide to join me, know this, we'll be living in an apartment that's economical. You'll have to get a job. I'll finance a car for you. We'll discuss our future and do whatever's best for both of us. I suppose your next question is, what is my share of Uncle Simon's estate? I don't know because it wasn't left to me, it was left to my mother. Neither my brother nor my sisters wanted to take it. Your greed is showing again, Celia.”

“How . . . how can your sister, who is in a wheelchair, help you build a casino? You people boggle my mind. What kind of family do you belong to?”

“Sunny has a brain. Before her illness she was absolutely tops in everything she undertook. She can run circles around me. She helped my father build this casino and she's the one who managed to bring it in on schedule after my father fucked it all up. You, Celia, crapped on the wrong person. Do you have any idea how you hurt Harry yesterday? As to my family, they're aces in my book. What that means is you could look the world over and not find a better family.”

“By telling him I didn't want him fixing my shoe? That hurt his feelings?” There was such perplexity on his wife's face, Birch sighed deeply.

“Forget it. I'm leaving now.”

Celia poured herself a cup of coffee, her hand trembling so badly she could barely lift the cup to her lips. It was scalding hot. She barely noticed. What was she supposed to do now? Did she want to stay here in Vegas, work a nine-to-five job and live in a one-bedroom apartment? She'd had that in Alabama. If she hadn't split when she had, she'd probably still be living there.

Should she stay here or should she leave with Birch? If she stayed, it would be the same as it was in Alabama. Maybe there was a way to make peace with Birch, weave a little magic, make nice to the cripples and possibly, just possibly, the pot at the end of the rainbow really could be hers.

Celia cleaned the kitchen in minutes, was in and out of the shower in less than ten minutes. She had to strike while the iron was hot and do some shopping. Once she bought everything she needed from the boutiques downstairs and removed the tags, Birch wouldn't be able to make her return the things. The moment her shopping was finished she would head for the first lawyer listed in the phone book to find out what her marital rights were in case of a divorce.

Driving cross-country at forty miles an hour with her husband wasn't going to be a picnic. The alternative left her panic-stricken.

Celia eyed the digital clock next to the wide-screen television set. Her hands were sweating. She wiped them on her new stonewashed Wrangler jeans. She felt herself wincing at the reflection she saw on the blackened TV screen. She looked exactly the way she'd looked that first day when she rode into the village Birch was building in Costa Rica. Her face was scrubbed clean, her hair pulled back in a ponytail, her drugstore sunglasses perched on the end of her nose. Her navy blue Kmart sneakers with their pristine shoelaces glared up at her. She'd tried scuffing them, even wetting them in the bathtub to take away their new look. She hadn't been successful.

A large khaki duffel and a small canvas bag stood next to the front door. They were holding two other bags for her downstairs behind the registration counter. A tidy pile of receipts and a bottle of mineral water sat on the table next to her chair. The
real
stuff, the designer outfits, pricey shoes, jewelry, and receipts were in the bags downstairs. She'd zipped through the boutiques running up a $25,000 bill in less than two hours. She'd gone crazy when one naive salesclerk told her the bills would go to the corporate offices and be paid by the family accountant. What that told her was that Birch would probably never see the bills. At some point in time he might
hear
about them. She was not going to worry about something that might never come to pass. She had to look out for number one.

She'd had a busy day, shopping, talking to an attorney, lining up an apartment she had no intention of living in, filling out job applications at the Board of Education and arranging a supper date with Jeff Lassiter.

Celia did one last run-through of the speech she'd worked up for Birch's benefit. She felt confident Birch would listen. All she had to do now was wait. Her gaze locked on the digital clock.

The numerals flashed to 3:35 when Birch returned. “Hi, honey,” Celia called. “Birch, can we talk for just a minute? Can I get you a soda pop?”

Birch nodded, his eyes wary as he took in his wife's appearance. He felt something tug at his heart.

“Honey, let me talk, okay? I need to apologize to you. Whatever this thing is between us is my fault. I'm so sorry. All I did today was think. I came up with this. I'm going to stay behind. For now. We both need some space, and we both need to do some thinking. I'm going to get an apartment in town. I found a small efficiency for $300 a month, but I didn't have any cash to put down. It's on hold. It's late into the school term to get a job, but I can sub. I can get a job waitressing if the sub jobs are few and far between. I can lease a car with nothing down to help me at first. I will need to borrow about fifteen hundred dollars. I'll pay you back monthly. Not much because I won't be making much. It'll be something, though. We'll take it a month at a time. We'll decide if we want to stay married as time progresses. My punishment will be staying here without you. I think I can handle it. I'd like to know, though, if I can't, will I be welcome in Atlantic City? I don't know what else to do. I'll apologize to Sunny and her friend and to your family. I think I went temporarily insane there for a little while and have this awful sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. I love you, Birch. I never loved anyone the way I love you. You need to know that. Oh, I spent $180 downstairs for a few things. Here are the receipts. I tried to be frugal. Say something, Birch.”

Birch stared at the young woman he thought he'd loved with all his heart. He remembered the day she rode into the makeshift village on a donkey, remembered the weary smile on her face. The first words out of her mouth had been, “What do you want me to do, Mr. Thornton?” He'd replied, “Start calling me Birch. Mr. Thornton is my father.”

Celia saw the indecision in her husband's face. She stepped closer. “I want us to start over. I want you to do what you feel you have to do, and I don't want you to worry about me. I want you to think about me, though. I can make this right, I know I can. Please, Birch.”

Birch didn't trust himself to speak. He nodded. She stepped closer and then closer still. He found himself wrapping his arms about her. The hard look in his eyes softened as his arms tightened around her slim form. She felt so good, so right in his arms. “We'll try it your way, Celia.” His voice was a low murmur.

“Oh, Birch, I'm so happy to hear you say that. You won't be sorry. Before you know it, it's going to be like old times.” Celia's voice dropped to a hushed whisper, “I haven't forgotten one day of our time together. I made up this mental list in my head, and all day I kept referring to it. What we had was good, and it was special. I don't want us ever to lose those feelings. Just meet me halfway.”

She kissed him and he forgot all his good intentions. “Are you sure this is the way you want it?” he whispered against her cheek.

“It's just time, Birch. We're young. We have all the time in the world. Depending on how you look at it, it could be an eternity or the time could go by in a flash. It will be what we make it. I'm going to try so hard, honey, to be the person you want me to be. Let's make a date for New Year's Eve. Either I'll go to Atlantic City, or, if you can free up the time, you can come here. It will give each of us something to hold on to. Will you agree to that, Birch?”

Birch nodded. His tongue felt thick in his mouth. “I have to go, Celia. I changed my mind about driving Sunny's car and scheduled a flight for 5:20.”

“I'd like to go to the airport with you if you don't mind.”

“I'd like that, Celia. I have a taxi waiting. Just let me get my gear.” The moment Birch was out of sight, Celia's clenched fist shot in the air.

On the ride to the airport, they held hands, Celia's head on her husband's shoulder.

“Do you want me to go inside with you, honey?”

“No point, Celia. I'm just going to make it. Jesus, I almost forgot, here is some money and a credit card. I'll leave word at the desk when I have a phone and an address. You leave yours with the desk, too. I'll call.”

“I guess I better get an answering machine. If I'm going to work two jobs, I might miss your call. Good luck, Birch. I miss you already, and you haven't gone yet. I'll count the days till New Year's Eve. This is too much money, Birch.”

“It's okay, Celia. An emergency might come up. You might not get any subbing jobs right away. If anything goes awry, talk to my mother or Jeff. Listen, I'm sorry about everything.”

“I know. I'm sorry, too. I love you, Birch,” Celia said.

“I love you, too.” It was a lie. He knew it was a lie, and yet the words escaped his lips.

“Everything's going to be okay. Every marriage has a few bumps. I know we can weather this because we love each other. Whatever came before this moment is history. Have a safe trip. I'm going to write Sunny and her friend a letter. Tell her that for me, okay?”

“Her friend's name is Harry.”

“Yes, Harry. Have a safe trip, honey.”

Birch waved as he loped off, his bags slamming against his legs.

Celia smiled all the way back to the casino.

 

Jeff Lassiter sat back in the special chair that had once belonged to his father. He propped his feet on the corner of the desk the way he'd seen his father do when his legs were working. A perfect smoke ring spiraled upward to settle over his head like a halo.

One brother down, one brother and two sisters to go.

As a numismatist, he couldn't want or ask for a better job. It had come to him, literally falling in his lap. Babylon was the best place in the world to apply his profession. He wondered if anyone, including the Thornton family, knew exactly what a numismatist was or what one actually did. He'd graduated second in his class, which put him a notch above his half brother. Studying money and monetary objects was what had led Simon Thornton to him several years ago with his grand plan to wipe out Babylon. If his father and mother hadn't clapped an iron hand on him that night along with the threat of the Internal Revenue Service, he could have been the new emperor of Las Vegas. He'd been younger then, frightened at what he knew he was capable of doing. That fear was gone now, and so was his father and his brother Simon. His mother was older and in frail health. She didn't care what he did these days as long as her meals were on time and her game shows weren't interrupted.

What he needed to do now was set up a network of loyal employees and get rid of all the deadwood that might be tempted to carry tales. For weeks now, off the clock, he'd been watching, observing, taking notes. He knew the smart money on the street was already down. The odds were ten to two that he'd step into his father's shoes. He had his own bet down across the street. With Birch out of the way there was no way he could fail. With Birch's wife on the periphery, the odds were even more in his favor.

Jeff wondered what Birch's decision to go to Atlantic City would do to the odds that were so heavily in his favor. He stubbed out his cigarette. Birch Thornton didn't interest him in the least. He had more important things to occupy his mind.

Within minutes, Lassiter was engrossed in his charts and lists to the exclusion of all else. In his mind, his office was now called the War Room. In thirty minutes he would be hosting a meeting of electrical and mechanical engineers, systems and software designers, graphic artists, and mathematicians. Their combined object: the development of a killer game inside a perfect slot machine.

He wanted a device that would be fast yet simple. He wanted to seduce the player with a modicum of risk, yet let the player think he was in control. He wanted near addiction but needed to stay within the bounds of legality. He wanted the player to smile as the machine gobbled up his money. Could it be done? With the right team players and the proper incentives, and he knew a thing or two about incentives, it absolutely could be done. Before long they'd be calling his device Lassiter's Holy Grail.

Jeff wondered if he was ahead of the pack by hooking his ideas to the MTV generation. So far he thought he was. With 70 percent of the twenty-three billion gambling take coming from the slots, it was imperative he come up with the ultimate gambling machine. To his mind it was a make-or-break situation. Flipping the dial on the television set one evening he'd watched MTV until he was dizzy with ideas. He knew when he turned off the set it was going to take more than three cherries to hook the joystick generation of MTV viewers since they got bored so easily. He needed exactly the right combination of game and gizmo with plenty of bells and whistles. He had to come up with a killer category that was better than video poker.

His first order of business after today's meeting was to introduce twenty-five new slot machines and take away another twenty-five. Bess and John Noble had followed through, waiting a whole year for the new game to go from concept to design to focus-group evaluation to regulatory approval to casino testing and finally onto the floor. Cost per machine, a cool two hundred grand. His baby now that the Nobles were on a round-the-world trip. In three months' time, possibly sooner, customers would call the new slot Lassiter's Machine. They would forget Bess and John Noble. Out of sight, out of mind.

The buzzer on Jeff's desk alerted him that his guests were in the conference room. He looked at his watch. He had three hours until it was time to meet Celia Thornton for dinner.

 

“This was such a pleasant surprise, Adam. It isn't often you take time off from chasing criminals to take me to lunch. In a casino no less. I don't think my family would understand me lunching at a competitor's casino, though,” Billie Thornton said.

“The food's good. My jacket safely hides my hardware. I'd like us to see more of each other, Billie. How about dinner this evening?”

“Can't. I took a long lunch break to be with you. We've been here two hours and I need another half hour to get back to the office. How about Friday?”

“Sure. By the way, where were you yesterday? I called around lunchtime and no one knew where you were.”

Billie's voice was testy when she said, “Are you checking up on me, Adam?”

“No. I wanted to take you to lunch yesterday. I'd take you every day if you'd let me. I thought I saw you on the Strip but by the time I found a parking place you were gone.”

“It must have been someone who looked like me. Gotta go. I'm parked in the underground garage, so I have to go back inside. We're on for Friday then?”

“I'll count the hours.”

Billie stared at the man she'd been seeing off and on for almost two years. He was more than pleasant. Handsome, too, lean, and hard-muscled. He topped the growth chart at six-three. Wearing high heels, she still got a stiff neck looking up at him. She leaned closer for him to kiss her lightly. His shoulder holster pressed against her chest. “I hate guns,” she murmured.

“I do, too,” Adam said. “If I don't wear it, who's going to catch the bad guys?”

“Some other detective. No, huh. It's a jungle out there, so be careful.”

“Now, where have I heard that before?”

Billie laughed. “Probably the same television show I heard it on. Bye, Adam.”

Inside the casino, Billie looked around to get her bearings before she headed for the rest room. When she walked onto the casino floor fifteen minutes later, her own mother wouldn't have recognized her. She headed straight for the twenty-one table. She played steadily until four-thirty, losing $26,000. She returned to the rest room and dressed in her original attire to return to the office. She'd work till eight or nine. After that she'd go home, change, and head for another casino.

On the way back to the office, her forehead beading with sweat, she mouthed the words, “I do not have a gambling problem. I positively do not have a gambling problem.”

Yet.

Entering the office, Billie worked a smile onto her face. “For someone who has always brown-bagged her lunch, I'm having trouble with these four- and five-hour lunches, Billie,” Sage said. “You have at least twenty-five calls, and you missed the meeting with one of our key distributors. Maybe it's time for you and Adam to get married. What the hell do you talk about for five hours?”