We're One (4 page)

“You’re right. I’ll hold you responsible, never think I won’t. Get out, and keep your hustlin’ eyes on that murdering waste of skin. I want to know his every move.” Joey couldn’t get out fast enough. The door slamming behind him was one more barrier between him and the snarling grouch he’d just left.

The loud bang of that door sounded like a gunshot to the shaken man in the office. Within seconds, Ash headed for the stairs at a dead run. Something stopped him. An itch at the back of his neck, an ache in his gut, an understanding that, if Arnie was watching him, by running to her apartment he could be leading the killer right to her door. He slowed and flopped down on the next step. Dust, carpet fluff and dirty grime meant nothing to the man who, just moments earlier, wouldn’t have messed with the elegance of his faultless suit. He lowered his face onto his clenched hands and forced himself to stop and think.

He had to get in touch with her.

Warn her.

Protect her.

“Ha! I’ve got it!” His ecstatic murmur echoed in the empty stairwell.

She’d told him she worked nights and couldn’t see him because she was too tired after work. A brush-off if he ever heard one. It had unsettled Ash, whose normal pattern saw him pushing the chicks away. She’d hurt his feelings—hard to believe and even harder to admit. The irony passed him by.

In a flash, he remembered asking her how she’d known Joey. Replaying the answer, her words resounded in his brain. “He’s my boss,” she’d replied. His fist clenched and pumped in the air in front of him.

Yes!

He knew where to find his plucky heroine now. He would talk with her. Plead with her if he had to. He couldn’t bear the thought of what Arnie had in store for when—not if but when—he found her. He had no illusions about Arnie’s abilities to convince shut mouths to open and blab.

How he’d get through the rest of the day, he didn’t know, but he knew exactly where he’d be that evening. At the Starlight—watching, waiting and littering the place with beseeching prayers, which might have trouble getting through, given all the gamblers already talking to the “Big Guy” in the sky.

That night the crowds in the spectacular Starlight Hotel were bigger than usual, and the energy in the casinos and lounges surprised Ashley. Then he remembered the Starlight had a fancy new act, the envy of the Strip—Snowflake, or Snowball—he wasn’t sure exactly. An unknown, who’d begun to appear here a couple of months ago, had hit it big. Each week the crowds grew, and the significant publicity, garnered from mouth to mouth, couldn’t be bought. People came in droves to witness for themselves what everyone else raved about. A show that started out minuscule, then miraculously grew to spectacular overnight—every manager’s dream.

He’d been meaning to come and see the act for himself, once the pressures of his workload let up. But with Rhett and Cassie on vacation, the commodity of free time had diminished severely. The enticing extravaganza would have to be put off until the end of the week, when he expected his brother to return.

Meanwhile, he wandered the various venues, his eyes watchful for a beauty with exquisite blonde hair. The new animal skin motifs in each of the lounges he visited distracted him.

There were vivid black and white zebra stripes mixed with vibrant reds in the piano room; black, white, and gold leopard skin designs with bright turquoise seating and lamp covers in the cabaret; and in the nightclub, flamboyant tiger stripes in gold and black, highlighted by hundreds of mirrored balls hanging from the ceiling, drew his attention. Redecorating had taken place in the tired old hotel. Joey, it turned out, was a better manager than Ash had given him credit for.

Turning his attention to the women around him, he scrutinized each girl with a loaded drink or cigarette tray as they passed, calling out their wares to the customers. Not wanting to bring attention to himself, he refrained from pestering everyone in sight about a girl called Crystal.

Desperate, his patience finally snapped. He beckoned to an attractive seller wearing a pair of black fishnet tights covered by a tiger-skinned, short-and-sexy outfit. He bought a package of Lucky Strikes and casually dropped his query.

“I’m looking for Crystal Davis. Have you seen her tonight?”

“Sure, you’ll find her in the Ice Pavilion in about ten minutes. The show begins then.”

His eyebrows did their thing, letting her see her answer made no sense to him at all. “Ice Pavilion?”

“It’s the new name for the old theatre. Ever since the Ice Princess act started we have to refer to it as the Ice Pavilion. The customers get off on it.” She shrugged her shoulders and smiled conspiratorially at him. It became obvious she’d identified him from her ingratiating smile. His mechanical nod and “thank you” in return did nothing for her self-esteem.

To keep him talking, ammunition for bragging later to the other girls, she added. “Our, ah, icy new star is ‘picky,’ if you know what I mean?”

“Uh-huh!” He wanted to get away, but his old-world politeness stopped him from leaving the girl. After all she’d helped him.

Encouraged, she leaned toward him. “Ice Princess is the perfect name for her. Or that’s what the frustrated, put-down men have been saying after she hands them back their broken hearts. Movie stars! High rollers! Big shots! Most of them rich—some of them gorgeous.” Her features settled into a rueful grin, and she nodded. “Yeppers! She treats all those smitten in one of two ways—either polite-like or, worse, she ignores them altogether.”

“Right, I’ll check out her show sometime.”

“If you’re looking for Crystal...”

“Thanks.” He turned away before she could start up again, and made his way to the renovated showroom.

The Ice Pavilion stunned Ashley. The stage featured snowy mountains that gleamed and twinkled from the reflected light of spectacular chandeliers. Fake snow that looked to be full of diamonds packed the stage, the orchestra gallery, and worked its way down to the floor like an avalanche. Pale blues melded into the whiteness to perfect the stunning icy image. Whoever decorated this room should be pinned “Genius.”

Pandemonium, from the customers packed into the limited space, reverberated with laughter and loud voices. Palpable excitement, like a huge gigantic heartbeat, pulsed. A group of ladies in their beaded finery entered, furs clutched close over low cleavages, followed by their suitably attired escorts. Glasses full of liquor clinked and added to the party atmosphere while billows of smoke from many cigarettes dimmed the large space.

Accepting, as his due, a free pass into the place from one of the older hosts at the door who recognized him, Ashley followed the man to a small exclusive table in the front, prepared to slip the required twenty-spot into the normally expectant palm.

“Can’t take it, Mr. Parks, but thank you all the same. You hired my Doris last week after she got thrown out of here, accused of stealing. Never stole a thing in her life. Says you asked her some questions, stared her in the eye, and took her word she’d been framed. It’s a pleasure to do you a favour—anytime.”

“Thank you, Fred.” Ash had read the nametag on the man’s tuxedo. He pulled out a cigarette and tilted toward the lighter magically appearing in the older man’s hand.

“Thank
you
, Mr. Parks.”

The lights dimmed before Ash could question Fred about Crystal. The blaring show began, and the noise level made it impossible to hear anything. He sat back and peered through his curling smoke. His eyes shifted in every direction, searching for his blonde-haired angel among the girls working the floor.

A haunting voice had the crowd on their feet, and the orchestra played a huge lead-up to a singer not yet visible. A moon slowly rose from behind the ice-capped mountains, making its way to the middle of the stage. Perched on the shining golden surface sat his Crystal. Her costume, a sheer silvery work of art, flew behind her as the moon swung back and forth in tandem with the song she performed. The whole visage took a person’s breath away—the music, the voice, and the beautiful, shimmery girl.

Male dancers, dressed in white luminous suits to match her dress, glided around the stage, preparing the crowd for her to land. After a haunting love song she finally did, into their waiting arms. The strenuous song and dance routines that followed brought the crowd to their feet. Applause, including stomping and whistling, rocked the walls. Las Vegas had found a new love, and their crystal princess loved them right back. She shone with audacity and glowed with joyous vivacity. It soared into the air, and each person felt the exuberant welcome from her laughing eyes and cheeky grins.

Her approach to the microphone finally brought the audience to a hushed silence. Expectation permeated the air, and then her gentle voice, full of laughter and love, recalled anecdotes from her Vegas adventures, each and every individual imagined she talked to him or her alone.

Meandering back and forth across the stage, she sometimes regaled them with cute jokes. Little dancing steps took her in all directions, leaving no one in the audience feeling left out. Eventually, comfortably sitting on the side of one of the shorter mountain peaks while bathed in the spotlight, she shared whimsical and hilarious memories of childhood, many of them tales about animals she’d known. Not one person who listened doubted she spoke from the heart and not a well-rehearsed script. She simply visited with them, and they loved it.

Either a pre-arranged cue, or maybe a pre-set time prodded the band to start into her closing number. Not once did she stop her wandering gaze to stare directly into his eyes, but he knew she’d seen him. The force of energy linking them pulsated to life at the exact moment she realized he was there. Bonds of awareness joined them, and he throbbed with the knowledge.

Unrealistic or not, from that moment on, many of the stories she told seemed to be aimed directly towards him. His laughter over her performance betrayed his enjoyment, as much as his burning gaze betrayed his interest.

Poor Joey would soon be losing another employee to the Parks Casino.

“Crystal, we have to talk. It’s Ashley Parks. Please let me in.” Ashley stood outside her dressing room, discreetly knocking.

Four showgirls, set to go on stage in the next number, took pity on him. The envious one in front whispered in his direction. “Give it up, mister. She never sees anyone before or after the show, unless you’ve made an appointment with Joey. Even then, most times, she stands ‘em up. Annoys the boss something awful.” Giggles followed the retreating girls as they made their way up the stairs, balancing their trailing feathery costumes.

Frustrated and quizzical, he knocked again. “Please! Crystal?”

The door opened a few inches, and her face peeked out. “Is anyone with you?”

“No. I’m alone, but we have to talk. Please, let me in.”

His body pushed so hard against the door that when she stepped back and let go of the handle, it swung open, and he fell into the room. Landing with a thud against her piled-high dressing table, he rattled the array of perfumes and lotions and nearly upended the lot. How the hell did the woman do this to him? He never lost his cool with anyone else. Urbane and polished, he had a natural confidence that was the envy of many of his competitors.

“Be careful of those bottles, Ash.” Mischievous chuckles sprang from tightly compressed lips.

His glare dared her to laugh outright.

She didn’t. “What can I do for you?”

He tilted his head, looking at the silvery-clothed star with one eye almost closed. Had she just set him up? He wouldn’t put it past her.

“What is it?” she reiterated. “I saw you in the audience, and you looked a bit hot under the collar, so I kinda expected you.”

She didn’t want him to know that her routine had changed from the moment she saw him until the band forced her off the stage. Tonight was what showbiz was all about for her. Connecting with folks! And the connection had felt so real. It seemed as though she was in the exact place, at the exact time, that the universe meant for her to be. It felt perfect. She’d never enjoyed her act as much as she had tonight.

Could his being there have had something to do with it?

The idea popped unwanted into her mind, and she shut it off. Not going there! Though he did look sorta cute, falling into her room the way he did. For a man at least six-two, he moved easily and had caught his balance quickly.

“Sweetheart.”

Sweetheart? Now, that was original!
He interrupted her contemplation with a voice that slid along her skin like luxurious white rabbit fur. God, he was dangerous.

“Humm?” She crossed her arms, an obvious barrier.

“Joey came to see me earlier. To warn me, actually. Seems you did quite a number on old Arnie’s face, and he’s sworn to get even. He believes you’re a young man, and right now is probably harassing and torturing your neighbours for information about the youngster with a bat who jumped into the fray last night. It’s only a matter of time until someone talks, Crystal.”

“Who can talk? Nobody in the neighbourhood knows me, and certainly no one knows I have a bat. Don’t worry! I’ll be fine.”

His voice rose to its higher octaves. “Are you nuts? Damn right he’ll find you. He’s snake-mean, with a rotten disposition, a beat-up face, and a gun to persuade folks to help him out. Trust me—he’ll eventually find out who you are. You have to move in with me. I can protect you until all this dies down, or until I can find Arnie myself and convince him you’re off limits.”