At the noise, two men glanced up from opposite ends of the open room. In the living area sat Shane Sligh, whom Holly knew by sight. He played guitar for his dad’s Frank Sinatra tribute band in the Peacock Room at the casino. He usually looked the part, too, in a fitted black tux, with his hair slicked down in a retro do. She almost didn’t recognize him now that he’d washed the gel out of his hair. She hadn’t realized he was blond. From a threadbare chair, he eyed her over the neck of his electric guitar, but his fingers never stopped flying over the silent fret board.
In the kitchen stood Elijah Brown.
She blinked, thinking she must be wrong. She’d had sex on the brain, and now she’d mistaken Rob’s roommate for her first crush, to whom she’d hardly spoken since she bailed on the ninth-grade prom. He simply looked a lot like Elijah at this distance, peering at her between the top and bottom rows of kitchen cabinets—hair in messy brown waves like a movie star caught on his day off, intense green eyes, lean body in a T-shirt and jeans.
Then he shifted forward, hanging on to the knobs of the cabinets above. His red T-shirt was partly obstructed by the dish towel over his shoulder, but she thought it read UNLV LACROSSE. Where his sleeves ended, his strong triceps moved underneath his taut skin. It was him all right, and hotter than ever.
“Mom, I’m home!” Rob called with a smirk. “What’s for dinner?”
“Tuna Helper,” Elijah said, looking at Holly.
On the drive over, Rob had made sex jokes and touched her knee, and none of that had elicited a reaction approaching the warm jolt she felt when Elijah Brown called her Tuna Helper. The rush of electricity was followed by a slower flow of emotions: Familiarity. Happiness at seeing a friendly face from high school. Sorrow for the missed opportunity of the ninth-grade prom. Anger at her parents for controlling her life. Curiosity about the coincidence that her ex-crush was her current date’s roommate.
“Mmmmm. Too bad we won’t join you.” Rob dragged Holly toward a hallway that she assumed led to his bedroom. She hung back while trying to look like she wasn’t. There was no way to extricate herself from this accelerating situation with Rob and simultaneously save face in front of Elijah.
Not that she had much face to save with him. She only waved to him each night when she passed him in the underground corridors for employees at the casino. He’d graduated from college with her last week. She’d spotted him when he walked across the stage with the Bs, looking perversely sexy in his black cap and gown. She hadn’t approached him because her parents had been in the audience.
But even if she thought there was nothing between her and Elijah anymore, maybe he disagreed. He came around the counter, wiping his hands on the towel, just as Shane jumped up from the couch and said, “Rob, aren’t you going to introduce us to your girlfriend?”
Rob glared at Shane, his eyes looking as devilish as they had in the car with the red traffic light reflecting in them.
Unphased by Rob’s expression, Shane raised his eyebrows expectantly.
Holly watched this macho drama unfold. But her attention was on Elijah, who stood not a foot from her. Goose bumps rose on her skin as if her body longed to jump that gap between them.
Rob dropped Holly’s hand and reached for his belt. She thought at first he would unbutton his pants and make some ungodly lewd gesture—he was acting so strange, she wouldn’t put anything past him at this point—but no, he unbuckled his holster and hung it on a coat rack beside the door, next to another laden holster. He took out his pistol and released the cartridge of bullets. “Shane Sligh, Holly Starr.” He managed to make this simple introduction sound ironic.
“Pleasure,” Shane said, taking her hand.
Holly grinned. Word around the female half of the casino was that Shane was a charming ladies’ man with old-fashioned manners to match his Rat Pack tux and his Southern drawl.
With the gun in one hand and the cartridge in the other, Rob looked straight at Holly. “Holly Starr, Dangermouse.”
Holly registered Rob’s nickname for Elijah only in passing. Her brain didn’t process it fully while her body was busy reacting to Elijah’s proximity. Her heart thumped wildly. She extended her hand and looked up at him.
His eyes were even greener than she remembered, a bright contrast to his tanned face and red shirt. As she watched, his pupils dilated, black obliterating the green. His hot fingers slid against hers and his hand found her hand. This was what she’d wished for in a man.
“We’ve met,” he said. The low notes of his voice traveled through his body, through his hand, and into hers. Then he let her hand go.
She wasn’t sure where to focus her eyes now. She couldn’t continue to stare moonily at Elijah. But she was afraid if she looked at Rob, she’d give away that her target for the night had shifted.
BANG. The gun fired. Everyone but Rob jumped.
Before the rush of adrenaline even hit Holly, Rob was saying in a strangely calm tone, “Sorry. Didn’t mean to do that.” He peered up at the white dust falling from the hole in the plaster ceiling.
“Jesus Christ, Rob!” Shane shouted. “That’s one way to check for a bullet in the chamber.”
“Sorry!” Rob repeated in an exasperated tone, as if Shane had a lot of nerve.
“I wonder if the damage deposit covers that,” Elijah murmured, gazing up at the hole. He put one hand on Holly’s shoulder. “Are you okay?”
Holly nodded, hands over her ears.
And then, as if Rob and/or the owner of the second gun hanging from the coat rack were forever accidentally peppering the ceiling with bullets, Shane changed the subject. “Holly, Peter Starr is your dad, right? I work in the same casino with you. I’ve never caught your dad’s act, but I’ve seen you around, and I recognize you from the—”
“—billboard over Interstate 15,” Holly finished for him. She laughed. “I guess the signage is working, because everybody knows me.”
As Rob reholstered the gun, he chuckled. “That’s not what I heard before I asked you out.”
Holly blinked at Rob, reviewing what he’d said, making sure she’d heard him correctly. Was he saying nobody knew her in a biblical sense, implying he understood she was a virgin? She was getting used to his sexually charged comments. But he hadn’t yet uttered anything this boorish in front of other people. In front of Elijah. She couldn’t bear to look in Elijah’s direction. She wished she could disappear.
“So, you assist your dad,” Shane prompted her, ignoring Rob. She was growing very fond of Shane. “Can you do any magic yourself?”
“Her dad’s the magician,” Rob said. “Holly can’t do shit.”
“Rob!” Shane exclaimed.
Holly glanced down at Rob’s hands balling into fists. She was glad he’d taken his gun off.
“Of course she can do magic,” Elijah spoke up. He glanced sideways at Holly.
Holly smiled. “Hold my purse.” She meant this command for any of the three men, but it was Elijah who moved first with his hands out. Whenever her dad had to hold her mom’s purse for a minute while they were out shopping, he grumbled that this was a sign a man truly loved a woman. Holly kept her face neutral as she handed the purse over.
She displayed both sides of her empty hands, splaying her fingers to show she concealed nothing between them. Then she produced a slip of flash paper and a box of matches from her bra. Parlor tricks were all about misdirection, and she’d found through experience that she would always be ahead of her dad, at least in that regard, because she could store small items in her bosom. Indeed, when she slipped a ten-dollar bill from the matchbox into her palm, she could tell it went undetected. The men continued to stare at her chest—until she lit a match.
“I’m allergic to smoke,” Shane said.
“He’s kidding,” Elijah told Holly. “He has a job playing guitar in a bar.”
“Where else am I going to get a job playing guitar?” Shane asked.
Holly crossed her eyes at them. There would be very little smoke. She touched the fire to the flash paper, which flamed large enough to make even Rob step back in surprise. The flash paper had burned away, but it seemed to Holly’s audience to have turned into the ten-dollar bill, which she now unrolled from her palm.
Shrugging the strap of her purse onto his shoulder, Elijah beamed and clapped for her.
“Wow, is that a real ten?” Shane reached out to finger the money.
“You’re supposed to use a hundred so it will look more impressive,” Holly said, “but I went shopping with Kaylee Michaels. Aren’t these cute?” She pulled up her jeans leg and showed them her new shoes.
“They’re adorable!” Elijah exclaimed.
“Thank you! I got them at—” When she realized he was poking fun at her, she shoved him playfully in the chest.
Both of them laughed.
Then both of them self-consciously half looked toward Rob and stopped laughing. Elijah handed her purse back.
Shane filled the silence. “Could you come live with us? If you did that trick a few times a week, we’d have satellite TV paid for.”
Rob asked her matter-of-factly, “You like performing for my roommates? You like turning tricks for my friends?”
She frowned at Rob. Because her job required her to dress provocatively, and had required this of her since she was a high school freshman, she was particularly annoyed by prostitute jokes.
She reminded herself that her parents loved Rob. They’d talked with him for only five minutes last week, but he’d won them over in that short space. They were impressed that he was older than her and employed as a sheriff’s deputy. They viewed him as strong and stable, someone who could take care of her if her MAD flared up.
But maybe she didn’t need a man to take care of her. Mentafixol controlled her MAD. And she’d rather go crazy than be stuck with this prick. If she stayed with him for another second she might just slap him, MAD or no MAD. “Excuse me,” she said icily, turning for the hallway, where she assumed she’d find a bathroom. There she could collect herself and figure out what to do.
As she turned, she glimpsed Elijah’s face. Just for a second. She was too furious and embarrassed to pause and examine his expression. But in that moment, his look wasn’t one of anger at Rob or sympathy for her. It was astonishment, as if he’d suddenly realized something about her that he hadn’t known before.
“Smooth, Rob,” she heard Shane say behind her.
Then came Rob’s footsteps. “Holly. Why are you shy all of a sudden? You don’t have to be in the same room with my friends to perform for them. They just have to be able to—”
At the sound of him gaining on her, she skittered into the bathroom and locked the door behind her.
“—hear you,” Rob called through the door.
Holly crossed to the far end of the narrow room, sat on the closed toilet, and pulled her phone from her purse.
Rob tried the knob, then pounded on the door. “Holly. Come here. Come here and open the door.”
“I need some privacy,” she muttered.
“Are you getting ready?” he asked in a hopeful tone.
“Yeah.” She reached over to turn on the water in the bathtub. Yeah, she was freshening up for sex with him. Being called a whore in front of her high school crush turned her on. She texted Kaylee.
Rob is being weird/threatening/drunk. Can u come get me? Near the Strip, street with huge doughnut sign on corner, cop car in driveway. Or is my MAD acting up?
While waiting for the response, she had the foresight to turn off the volume on her phone so it wouldn’t make the sound of Tinker Bell’s magic wand when Kaylee replied.
It’s not ur MAD. That guy’s spooky. I’ll be there in a sec with the goons.
Holly sighed her relief. She was saved. Then she frowned at the phone and typed with her thumbs:
When u met him last week u said u liked him!!!
And got this reply:
That’s what’s spooky. I don’t like anybody.
True. Kaylee was suspicious of everyone. But spooky or not, Rob hadn’t done anything to deserve Kaylee’s squad of burly, suit-clad security guards breaking up his housekeeping. And she wasn’t sure what would happen to Elijah and Shane in the fray. She texted Kaylee back.
Well don’t come inside. Let me see if I can get outside to u. He has 2 cute roommates and the goons r not surgical.
Holly slipped her phone back into her purse. The tub still gushed, which would mask any noise she made in her great escape. She stood on the toilet, unlocked the tiny window, and slowly, carefully, silently slid it open. Then she folded her body through the dark space. Another girl the same size might have doubted she could get through, but Holly had been taught by the best. She landed on her high heels on the gravel outside, purse in tow, and tiptoed toward headlights approaching up the street.
Her parents would have been so proud.
4
Elijah watched Rob pound on the bathroom door and listened to him shout, “Holly! Open up!” Elijah thought he should intervene. Holly might have burned him back in high school, but her bubbly laugh—not to mention her long legs and high heels—made his chest ache. He should step forward, stop his suddenly insane roommate from pounding on the door, and let her out of captivity in a civilized manner. Maybe he would even play the protective hero card and make sure her cell phone number hadn’t changed since ninth grade. He’d never dared text her since the night of his breakdown, but he still had her number saved in his phone.
However, he couldn’t intervene. He stood paralyzed with shock. Holly was in his brain. Not on his brain, in it. He’d missed a dose of Mentafixol the previous night for the first time ever. And he’d awakened in the middle of the night absolutely certain that he was experiencing Rob’s dreams from the bedroom next door. He’d known it wasn’t possible, but the vision had been so vivid that he’d rolled onto his stomach and put his chin on his hands like he was watching a movie on his cell phone as Rob dashed through a Chicago subway station to save innocent commuters from a terrorist’s bomb.