Levitating Las Vegas(14)
Author: Jennifer Echols

“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.