Some Like It Hotter (Sweet Life in Seattle #3) (27 page)

She pulls out a martini olive and sucks on it, and he can’t resist watching her mouth. Her lips are full and sensual. He tries not to think about how talented she is with that mouth, but it’s difficult. The glow of light coming through the window makes her skin appear luminous.

“After playing poker all day, my dad would bring me up here for dinner sometimes.” She holds her drink, leaning back in her chair as she looks out the window. “It always made me feel special.”

Giovanni glances around the restaurant again. The lighting is dim, and it’s become more crowded since they arrived. He tries to imagine Lindsay as a little kid eating dinner here after watching her dad play cards all day. It doesn’t sound like the best life for a child, but then he’s seen children manage in all sorts of unusual environments.

By the time they finish their meal, she seems tipsy and he decides it’s best they go back to the hotel.

After paying the bill, they take the elevator down and make their way through the crowd again. She stops walking and tells him there’s a picture of her father on the wall here. “Do you want to see it?”

He looks at her with surprise. “Sure.”

“It’s the Gallery of Champions,” she explains. “They used to hold the World Series here every year before it moved to the Rio.”

Lindsay takes his hand and leads him through all the tourists and people gambling. The casino is older and has definitely seen better days. It smells like years of buildup from smoke and sweat. Eventually, they come to a red wall with a bunch of framed photos on it—the words ‘Gallery of Champions’ above it in gold letters.

“There he is.” She points to a picture of a guy who looks to be in his early thirties with dark hair. “These are all the Main Event winners who played here.”

There’s a name below the photo—Jack ‘Handsome Jack’
West.

Giovanni leans in to get a closer look and right away sees the resemblance to Lindsay. He’s never considered himself much of a judge of whether another man is handsome or not, but he can see why her dad had the nickname. He reminds Giovanni of a young George Clooney. When he glances over at Lindsay, she’s left his side and has wandered a short distance away, gazing out at the busy poker floor.

“Are you okay?” he asks, coming up beside her.

She nods. “It’s just so strange being here after all these years. I don’t know why I brought you. We should have gone someplace else for dinner.”

He glances around. Like most casinos, the place is noisy and crowded, not really his scene. He senses memories are weighing heavily on her and takes her hand. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

As they drive back toward the Bellagio, he figures they’ll go up to the room and relax. They both still have jet lag, and he’s certain it’s contributing to all the heightened emotions today.

“Wait,” she says. “There’s one more stop I have to make.”

He looks at her questioningly. “I was thinking we’d just head back up to our room.”

There’s a strange expression on her face—determination, but something else he can’t quite place. He noticed it earlier.

“I need to do this,” she tells him. “Just one more.”

She directs him to a part of town away from the main tourist area. It’s a bit seedier, with mostly strip malls and liquor stores.

“Over there.” She points at a diner called Birdy’s with a yellow sign that’s obviously meant to look like another famous chain of diners. It’s lit up, and there’re a few cars parked out front.

“Are you still hungry?” he asks.

She ignores him, her large brown eyes fixated on the diner.

“Maybe you do need more food.” He eyes her with concern. She drank those martinis but ate so little. He hopes her blood sugar isn’t low. “Let’s just get you something at the hotel.”

“Park in front of that diner,” she tells him. He starts to protest, but she cuts him off. “Just do it!”

He does as she asks, pulling into a space right out front. He shuts the engine off then turns to her with a frown. “What’s going on here, Lindsay? Talk to me.”

She’s staring out through the windshield and appears to be trying to calm herself. He reaches for her hand, but she pulls away from him.

“Come on, we’re going inside.”

Before he can stop her, she swings the car door open and gets out. He follows her. Her actions have him on alert, and he’s not quite sure what to expect when they enter.

A young waitress appears and leads them both over to a nearby booth. Lindsay points to the far end and tells her she’d prefer to sit over there. The waitress complies, and soon the two of them are sitting alone in a booth overlooking an unused parking lot on the side of the building.

“What is this place?”

Lindsay stares at the parking lot, her jaw tense. “I worked here during one of my summer breaks from college.”

“Really?” Giovanni glances around. His first thought is she could do better.

As if reading his mind, she explains how it was the only job she could find at the time, how she was too young for anything else.

The waitress comes over, bringing them both a glass of water. She has a pad out, ready to take their order, but neither of them has even looked at the menu.

Giovanni is about to tell her to give them a minute when Lindsay starts asking her about some of the people who used to work here. The waitress doesn’t seem to know any of them though, and after a short discussion, it’s clear all of them are gone.

“How weird,” Lindsay says, after the waitress leaves. “I’ve thought of this place so many times, always imagining it exactly the same, but it’s different.”

“Did something happen here?” Giovanni asks, a sick feeling in his gut.

“Everything has changed,” she murmurs, ignoring his question, glancing around.

Her face is pale under the bright lights of the diner. He wants to reach for her, but senses she’d pull away.

“You know what? Let’s go,” she says abruptly. “Let’s get out of here.”

“Sounds good to me,” he replies with relief.

They head outside toward the car again, but just before they reach it, Lindsay suddenly turns in the opposite direction. She walks over to the side of the building near where they were sitting, and he follows her to the small deserted lot.

The air is stifling and greasy smelling from the diner as they stand there together. Sweat dampens the inside of his suit. He’s spent a lot of time in hot climates, but most of them cool down at night. Here, because of all the concrete, it’s relentless.

There’s traffic on the next street over and party music plays in the distance. Lindsay stares at the empty lot with a bleak expression.

Finally, she turns to him. “I’m ready to leave now.”

She’s quiet on the drive back to the hotel. He tries to talk to her, draw her out, but she doesn’t want any part of it. When they get up to their air-conditioned room, the first thing he does is strip out of his suit jacket, yank off his tie, and roll up his sleeves. Lindsay goes to the minibar and pulls out a couple small bottles of vodka. She takes them with her into the bedroom but leaves the door open behind her.

He takes off his socks and dress shoes then walks barefoot to the open doorway to find her sitting in bed, heels kicked off, long tan legs crossed in front of her at the ankle. She’s drinking from one of the little bottles.

“Are you sure you don’t want to talk about it?” he asks, trying again.

She shakes her head but holds up the second bottle. “Do you want one of these?”

He enters the room and sits on the end of the bed, a sense of helpless anger coursing through him at what he’s starting to suspect happened to her. “I’m sorry I made you come back to Las Vegas, Lindsay. If I’d known something happened to you here, I wouldn’t have asked you to come at all. We could have gotten married elsewhere.”

She puts the bottle down, the one she offered him and smiles wearily. “It’s not what you’re thinking. That’s not what happened to me.”

“It’s not?” He’s confused a little but doesn’t say anything, figuring if she wants to tell him she will.

“I have a lot of secrets.” She pulls her knees up close, hugging herself. “I don’t know why, but it’s been this way my whole life.”

He nods slowly. Unfortunately, he knows a thing or two about secrets himself.

“That summer, when I worked at the diner, there was this customer who used to come in. This older guy who was always looking at me.” She takes a swig from the vodka then licks her lips. “A lot of the guys who came in looked at me—leered was more like it—but I knew how to handle them.”

Giovanni imagines Lindsay as a young college student, the kind of attention she must have received, and he wants to punch every one of those assholes.

“This older guy was always nice to me though, always left me a big tip.” She holds up the second bottle to him again. “Are you sure you don’t want it? There’s nothing like overpriced booze from the minibar.”

“No, I’m good.”

“Suit yourself.” She shrugs and takes another drink from the bottle in her hand.

“What happened?” he asks, keeping his voice calm.

“Even though my dad made over a million dollars playing poker, there was nothing left when he died. Can you believe it? Nothing. My mom, Natalie, and I lived on welfare and food stamps.” She gives him a penetrating stare. “Have you ever been poor like that?”

He doesn’t say anything, just thinks about the cushion of money his family has always provided him. “No. I’ve been very fortunate.”

“It can lead you down some strange alleyways, let me tell you.” She sways a little and puts her legs back down, a slight slur to her words. “The summer I worked at that diner, there was no money at all. None. My mom drank away the little we had, and that shit job paid hardly anything. I was lucky to get free meals at work.”

“I’m sorry, Lindsay.”

She cuts him off with her hand. “The irony is that it happened on my dad’s birthday. The day he died.”

Giovanni is confused. “Wait a minute. Your dad died on his birthday?”

“Yeah.” She takes a breath. “He had a heart attack while he was in bed with one of his girlfriends, celebrating. Natalie and my mom tried to hide it from me, but of course, I found out. That was the first time I realized he’d been lying to me.” She shakes her head. “I still loved him though. Just like my mom, I loved him despite everything.”

“Kids are supposed to love their parents.”

She nods slowly. “It’s like that old guy knew I was having a rough day. The worst ever. That fucker. I must have been putting out waves of desperation.”

There’s a prickle of unease in Giovanni’s gut as he tries to guess where this conversation is going.

“He waited for me after work.” She closes her eyes for a second. “I worked a night shift, and he must have been out there for a long time . . . waiting. He approached me when I went to my car, and do you know what he said?”

Giovanni shakes his head, his eyes on Lindsay. Beautiful Lindsay.
My wife
.

“He offered me money.” She fiddles with the small bottle in her hand. “A hundred dollars if I’d have sex with him.”

“What did you tell him?”

“I told him no, that I wasn’t a prostitute.” She looks at Giovanni, searching his face. “And then he offered me two hundred. I said no again. And then he offered me five hundred dollars.”

His throat goes tight, the muscles in his body clenching. He can barely breathe, trembling with fury that someone would do this to her. The only thing that calms him is the thought of finding that sick bastard and ripping his heart out.

Lindsay shakes her head and gives a bark of laughter. “Five hundred dollars was more than I made in a week at that shitty job—even with tips!”

“What did you do?”

She doesn’t reply right away, drinking the last remnants from the bottle instead. She stares down at it for a second, but then looks up and meets his eyes straight on.

“I earned five hundred dollars.”