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Authors: Fern Michaels

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BOOK: Vegas Sunrise
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Jeff's voice was shaky when he said, “My contract calls for total control of this casino. Your mother signed it.”

“My mother is only in control when a tiebreaking decision occurs. We outvoted her. Birch, Sunny, Billie, and I are in control. We could force you out of here if we wanted to. My offer stands to buy out your contract. Room 719 goes on the occupancy list at noon today. Hortense is on the way. She'll see to it. If there is anything in that room that doesn't belong there, it's going in the trash.”

Jeff leaned back in his father's old chair. He made a steeple of his fingers just the way Ash Thornton had always done when a problem surfaced. It was uncanny how much he looked like their father, Sage thought, much more so than he or Birch. Sage wasn't sure, but he thought Jeff had the same single-minded determination his father had.

“This is about Celia Thornton, isn't it?”

“No. It's about our employees. We don't like it when strangers mess with other people's lives and destroy their livelihood. If you hadn't done that, we would have taken a backseat and watched your operation. We wouldn't have interfered. Now that you brought up my sister-in-law's name, perhaps we should discuss Celia's role here and what she does to warrant an $800 a week job. That's some very heavy money. No one seems to know where she is or what she does. Would you care to offer an explanation?”

“She came to me and said she needed a job. She said your brother left her with what she called a pittance. She called him a miserly scrooge. I thought your family would want me to help. I did. The two part-time jobs she has, according to her, aren't enough to cover her rent and car rental. Perhaps I was too generous. I find it strange that you object to employee wage problems but aren't the least sympathetic to a family problem.”

“Birch and Celia's affairs are no concern of yours or mine for that matter. You stepped over the line where Celia is concerned, which leads me to believe you have an ulterior motive. What exactly does she do to earn such a princely salary of $800 a week?”

“I hired her as a goodwill house ambassador. As a home economics teacher she wasn't qualified for much else. As I said, I thought I was helping your family.”

“A goodwill house ambassador? You need to define that title, Lassiter.”

“She dresses up. She walks around, smiles, makes nice, that sort of thing.”

“We have at least two hundred goodwill ambassadors who do the same thing for minimum wage, plus tips, plus a bonus at the end of the week. My family has always called them waitresses. It's a damn hard job, that's why we give the girls bonuses at the end of the week. That way we don't have a turnover. It was one of my father's rules. You took away those bonuses, didn't you, you son of a bitch? That's how you were going to pay Celia. It looks to me like you're going to have one hell of a busy day calling all those people back to work and firing their replacements.”

“No.”

“No? Oh, yes.”

“I think we need to call your mother.”

“That's entirely up to you, Lassiter. You look kind of boxed in right now. What's your game anyway?”

The steeple wavered slightly. “No game. I'm trying to do my best. There is a lot of unnecessary money being spent here. Cutbacks occur all the time. My intentions were and are still honorable. My plan was to save this casino a million dollars a year on wages and bonuses and another two million on overhead.”

“Of which you get a percentage according to your contract.”

“I have people working on a game within a game for the slots. That game can triple your revenues the first year. It won't happen overnight, though.”

“Using our money, our time, and when it's ready to fly you shop it around to the highest bidder, right?”

Lassiter blinked.

I scored with that one, and I just pulled it out of my head
, Sage thought. “Is that why they call these offices the War Room? I understand the executive dining room is off-limits. Where the hell do you get off doing something like that? It's being cleared out as we speak. You are, of course, free to develop anything you want on your own time with your own private payroll. If it happens, Babylon will bid on your game like every other casino. Did I forget anything?”

Lassiter smiled. “Off the top of my head, I'd say no. I'm staying.”

“That's your right, according to your contract. As an employee of this casino I'd like it now if you'd accompany me to the seventh floor.”

“I'll pass,” Lassiter said.

Sage walked around Lassiter's desk. He bent down and yanked the telephone wire out of the wall. “My father used to do that on a regular basis. Actually, my mother did it a few times, too. Sometimes my father was so wise it boggles the mind. Other times he was downright stupid. Will you take care of Celia's pink slip or should I handle it?”

“I'll take care of it.”

“Then I guess our business is finished. For now.”

“For now. You know the way out.”

“War Room, my ass,” Sage muttered as he closed the door behind him.

A grim look on his face, Sage rang for the elevator and punched the number seven. Delphine, the cherub-faced head of Housekeeping, Hortense, and a two-man maintenance crew, along with a locksmith, were waiting. Sage hugged the women, shaking hands with the men before he fit his key into the lock. “I want the room cleaned and aired. It goes on the occupancy list at noon. I want a regulation lock installed. Buck, service the AC. It probably needs Freon.
Everything
in that room goes in the trash. I'll be downstairs in Neal's office if you need me.”

Celia Thornton's shrieks and curses followed him to the elevator. How in the hell was he going to explain this to Birch?

 

“Sunny, would you and Harry like to go out to dinner to an honest-to-God restaurant? I don't think I can eat another burger or bag of french fries. I'm sick of soda. There are a couple of good seafood restaurants on the boardwalk. Your chairs won't be a problem.”

“I'm kind of tired. What about Uncle Daniel and Uncle Brad?”

“They turned me down, too.”

“Uncle Brad said they're staying on for a half hour or so. They ate lunch late, too. Uncle Daniel said they'd grab something on the way back to the apartment. Why don't you invite Libby? I bet she'd love to go. It's just dinner, Birch. There is nothing wrong with going to dinner. You like her. She's good company, and she knows you're married. You know you're married, too, so what's the big deal?”

“Do you think she'd go? I don't know, Sunny, it might not be a good idea. People start to talk.”

“What people? Dinner is dinner. You have a drink, you eat, you go home. Big night in Atlantic City. You could of course take in one of the casinos. Make a night of it. You've been working sixteen hours a day. You deserve a break. Go on, call her You can always call Celia and tell her your plans if that's what's bothering you.”

“Okay, I'll do it.”

“Do it now before she makes other plans.”

Sunny winked at Harry, who grinned as Birch walked over to the construction phone. “It's just dinner, Harry,” Sunny sniffed.

“She said yes.”

“Everybody has to eat. The food at the center is good, but it's nice to go out to a restaurant once in a while. Libby's partial to good white wine. I bet you don't have a thing to wear.” There was a giggle in Sunny's voice that did not go unnoticed by Birch.

“Can you get back to the center okay?”

“Of course. Uncle Brad is driving us. It's amazing how fast this whole thing has taken hold. One day this was just a wide-open space, and now we're up and running. Four full crews make all the difference in the world. Harry and I won't be here till noon tomorrow. Have a nice dinner, Birch.”

Birch leaned over to kiss his sister's cheek. “Have a good night, Sunny. I'm going to call Mom and the medical center before I leave. If I hear anything you should know, I'll give you a call.”

“Birch, I've called every day. Marcus is the same. There hasn't been any change.”

Birch nodded. “I'm going to call anyway.”

It was seven o'clock when Birch escorted Libby through the creaky doors of the Crab Shanty. “It has a seafaring smell to it, doesn't it?” Birch grinned.

“Do you suppose being on the ocean has anything to do with it? Maybe it's all these fishnets and anchors. Or maybe it's the pirate getups the help wears.”

“Probably all of the above. I heard this is the best place on the boardwalk. I've always been partial to red-checkered tablecloths and peanut shells on the floor.” Birch held a chair for Libby at a table that was nestled in a far corner next to a blazing fireplace.

“This is pleasant. I love a fire. A friend of mine told me that makes me a nester. I like to curl up with a book or just sit and stare into the fire. I've always been a homebody. How about you, Birch?”

“I like a fire myself. Believe it or not, Sage and I were Boy Scouts. Mom used to send us out for firewood that Chue cut. We'd haggle over the logs, betting which one would burn the longest. We do come from a gambling family after all. My mother had these wonderful big, old red chairs. Two people could sit on one. They were in her studio. We'd all huddle and drink hot chocolate. It's a very pleasant memory. How about you?”

“Growing up those things were in a wish book. I grew up in an orphanage. I was out and on my own at seventeen. I worked my way through college with student loans I'm still paying off. Another year and I'm free and clear. By then my car will finally surrender to some junkyard and I'll be in debt again.” Libby's voice was wistful when she said, “What's it like to live in a real family? Sunny told me what it was like from her perspective. I'd like to hear what it was like for you.” She looked up at the waitress. “I'll have a bottle of Budweiser.”

“Make that two. Sunny said you liked good wine.”

“Sometimes.”

Birch stared at his dinner companion. She wasn't beautiful, but she was attractive in a wholesome way. Sunny had said she wore glasses from time to time. He wondered if they were wire-rimmed or shell-framed. It would be a shame to hide her eyes, which were the same color as the bluebells Chue raised in the greenhouse. He said so. She smiled. He thought he'd never seen a nicer smile. It crinkled around her mouth and up to the corners of her eyes. She made a self-conscious face and laughed, a sweet sound of mirth.

“So what do you think?”

“About what?”

“You were studying me as though you were committing me to memory. Tell me what you see. You also didn't answer my question about what it was like to grow up with a real family.”

“It was pretty wonderful. We lived on an incredible mountain. Mom's the greatest. Dad left a lot to be desired during that time. We hung out together. I guess that's why we're still so close. When my grandmother was alive she'd tell us stories about what it was like back in the old days when Vegas was just a dust ball. It was the best of all times. No worries, no one was jealous of anyone else. I think Sage and I spent our entire youth trying to figure a way to best Sunny. I would have been happy to beat her at marbles. That's pretty much it. I'm a people person. I used to watch the customers at the casino sixteen hours a day. Sometimes I'd make up these little scenarios, but I never knew if I was on the money or not. I'd say you're a what-you-see-is-what-you-get kind of person. You know your business. You like what you do. You're probably grossly underpaid and yet you can't see yourself doing anything but what you're doing. That makes you a dedicated person who has ideals and principles.”

“Sunny talks too much.”

Birch leaned across the table. “Sunny didn't tell me anything where you're concerned. She said she liked you and that you were a good therapist. That's all. I would have figured it out on my own because you have to be damn good to work at any of our centers. Your turn.”

Libby leaned into the table, the yellow glow from the candles highlighting her hair, bringing out its rich copper color. A small parade of freckles marched across the bridge of her nose. “I see an unhappy man. I read an article once by some psychologist who said a person's eyes are the mirrors of his soul. I think I believe that. You don't smile much, do you? Tell me something. What would it take to make you happy?”

Birch sipped at his beer. “Right now I can't answer that. Not too long ago I thought I knew the answer. Man, was I wrong. I need to fall back and more or less regroup. I guess you could say I'm in my search mode. What would it take to make you happy?”

“I'm quite happy now. I know there is more out there. When it's my turn, it will happen. Having a husband who loves me and whom I love, kids, pets, a small house with a real fireplace. I'd like to see my husband mow the lawn and grumble when the dog pees on the carpet. I don't want a husband who someday might break my heart. My game plan calls for one marriage, one husband. My biological clock is ticking, and I can hear it. If it doesn't happen, I'll adopt a child and find a way to buy my own little house. My life won't depend on a man, but I would like to have one included in my life. Don't get the idea I'm one of those women's libbers because I'm not.”

“My next question was going to be, why haven't you married?”

“I got close a couple of times. When it was down to the wire, I realized they didn't want the same things I did. At one point I bought a wedding gown on time payments. It's still in the box. I paid it off, too.”

Birch laughed. “Look at it this way, if someone sweeps you off your feet, you're prepared. How about another beer?”

“Okay. I'm going to have the all-you-can-eat crab legs with a loaded baked potato, blue cheese on my salad, garlic bread with a side order of shrimp.”

BOOK: Vegas Sunrise
12.51Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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