Levitating Las Vegas(25)
Author: Jennifer Echols

With her fingertip she touched a little line between her brows, her first wrinkle, smoothing it away. Only a crazy girl would choose an insane carpenter over a cop, especially when going out with the insane carpenter would anger her parents, who held her career in their hands. But if that’s what Elijah really wanted from her, that’s what he would get.

At five before midnight, Holly and Kaylee hugged the petite Marilyn Monroe impersonator carding at the door, whom they knew because s/he also performed in the Peacock Room at the casino. Inside Glitterati they squeezed past the girls and transvestites writhing on the dance floor and found a table.

They sat close enough to hear each other over the throbbing beat. Holly hoped Kaylee might have a good time tonight, despite herself. She certainly looked the part of a fun-loving chick gone clubbing. Her wide blue eyes and platinum-blond hair made her appear younger than twenty-two, but her ample cle**age in a gold lamé top canceled that out. Holly often had to remind herself that her roommate kept a pistol in her cute sequined handbag.

Kaylee nodded past Holly’s shoulder. “There’s your Elijah Brown.”

“He’s not my Elijah Brown.” Holly felt herself blush. She was glad the nightclub was dark except for the pink strobes. On the drive over, Holly had tried to explain why she was meeting Elijah here. She hadn’t implied Elijah was hers, because he wasn’t—but now Kaylee’s words heated Holly’s cheeks with guilty pleasure. She looked where Kaylee was looking.

Although dancers filled the floor, the tables were empty save for a few frightened-looking women, obviously tourists. Holly had a clear view all the way across the room to Elijah. She marveled at the difference seven years had made. She remembered him being so hot in ninth grade, and so tall. As a college grad, he was still tall and lean, but his face was rugged with stubble, his wavy hair darker and wilder, his green eyes narrower. Now that she’d found out he had MAD, he looked to her like a dark and dangerous man—

—and then he leaned across the table toward Shane and laughed at something Shane had said. He looked like ninth grade when he laughed, she thought wistfully.

He and Shane had what appeared to be beer bottles in front of them. This surprised her again—not on Shane’s account, but on Elijah’s. Mentafixol and alcohol did not mix. The warning label said so, just as it said patients on Mentafixol should not drive or operate heavy machinery.

At first Holly hadn’t believed the label. She didn’t feel sleepier than normal on the drug. There was only a notable lack of hallucinations that she could make the furniture move. So she’d tried a few sips of beer once in tenth grade because all her friends were doing it. She’d blacked out, woken up the next morning under her friend’s bed, and felt groggy that whole day. Though it looked like a beer from this distance, Elijah’s drink must be a nonalcoholic beer or something else entirely.

Watching the guys sip from their bottles, she had an idea. “Kaylee, do you know Shane Sligh? I mean, you know all the casino employees, and I’m sure you have his Social Security number in your laptop, but do you know him? He plays guitar in that Frank Sinatra band in the Peacock Room. He’s Elijah’s other roommate. Come with me and I’ll introduce you. Wait—Kaylee, don’t look, but Shane’s staring at you hard. Oooh, he’s so handsome, too, in a retro way. Maybe he’ll take you for a hamburger and a Coke float at the malt shop.” She laughed at her own joke.

“I don’t think so,” Kaylee said.

“Or you could cheer him on when he races his car down at the aqueduct,” Holly giggled. “He is, he’s totally staring at you. Here he comes.”

Still focused on Kaylee, Shane rose from his seat.

Kaylee watched Holly from beneath her white-blond bangs. “No, he doesn’t.”

Shane sat back down.

Rising herself, Kaylee grumbled, “I need a drink to brave this place. I’m ordering a cocktail and making a phone call. You go over there and talk to Elijah. Can I get you a diet soda?”

“A diet soda would be great.” Holly wished Kaylee would go with her to greet Elijah. But she was a big girl and didn’t need her friend for support when she talked to a cute guy. Besides, Kaylee probably had superspy stuff to attend to over the phone.

And when Holly looked back at Elijah again, she had to admit that she wasn’t sorry to lose Kaylee for the moment. She’d had the idea that Kaylee might be interested in Shane, who really was adorable if you were into midcentury kitsch. But Kaylee might be interested in Elijah instead. Holly had no claim on him. Holly didn’t think Kaylee would make a move on Elijah when she knew Holly was attracted to him—Kaylee wasn’t like that—but stranger things had happened.

Plus, Kaylee was a striking platinum blonde.

Holly suddenly hoped Kaylee took a long time deciding what she wanted from the bar.

When Holly looked toward Elijah again, he was draining his beer. She squinted through the undulating darkness but still couldn’t make out the label on the bottle at that distance.

Then Elijah said something to Shane, but he watched her. He cut his eyes and motioned with his head toward the back of the club, indicating he wanted to meet her there.

She jumped up, nearly knocking over her chair, way too eager for a girl playing it cool. She slipped off her cardigan and pulled at her top to make sure her cle**age showed, smoothed her curls behind her shoulders, and dove in. Her showgirl friends ground their hips against hers as she swam across the dance floor. Finally she crawled up the opposite bank, freeing herself from the grip of a trapeze artist who worked at the casino next door to Holly’s. And there was Elijah, standing beside the last table, waiting for her.

Seeing him alone in the dark, surrounded by flashing lights—walking close enough to him to have a conversation with him over the booming bass line—she could have sworn she warmed ten degrees. The heat shot up her arms and spread across her chest as she smiled at him. “Hey, stranger! What’s with all the secre—”

“Do you have some Mentafixol left?” he bit out.

Holly took a step backward in surprise, looking around to make sure no one had overheard—which would have been impossible, with a stack of speakers nearby. She couldn’t hear him clearly over the physical pulse of the bass, but for a split second she thought he’d mentioned Mentafixol. Nobody was supposed to know about MAD. Yes, she knew about his MAD, but her parents had just spilled that to her a few hours ago. It hadn’t occurred to her that he might know about hers.