after dealing with the proprietress and her establishment more times than we could count, we no longer found it magical. And, to be honest, three out of four was still formidable.
One of the hotel’s limos slid to the curb as I burst through the front entrance. Without waiting for Paolo to come around to assist me, I yanked on the handle, threw the door open, and dove inside. “Miss Minnie’s and make it quick.”
The acceleration threw me back against the seat as I pulled the door closed. Paolo glanced at me in the rearview, but said nothing. He was a small man, and behind the wheel he looked like a kid taking a joyride. Granted, his chauffeur’s cap made him look a bit more professional, but not by much.
“You okay, Miss O’Toole?”
Taking a deep breath, I tried to marshal my thoughts. “Fine, thank you.” I leaned back, savoring the silence, quieting the cacophony in my head. “Say, Paolo, you wouldn’t have taken anyone to Miss Minnie’s this evening, would you?”
Although I’d never been a driver in Vegas I knew how the system worked. Many of the local establishments, from fine dining to spouse-swapping party houses, offered drivers a kickback if they delivered a paying customer. As wily as a snake after a rabbit, Miss Minnie worked the system like a pro.
I opened my eyes in time to catch Paolo’s gaze flicking to me in the mirror, then away again. Guilty. I knew it. “Paolo, we had a talk about this. Miss Minnie is trouble.”
He ducked his head. From where I was sitting, he disappeared from view, which was a bit unsettling. I hoped he still could see where we were going. “The money, Miss O’Toole. It is hard to resist.”
“You make a tip. I get a problem dropped on my head.” I moved to the bench seat behind him and stuck my head through the open window separating the driver from the passengers. “It’s really unwise to piss off your boss.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“So, tell me again, who is your boss?”
“You are.” His voice lost some its normal exuberance.
“Look at me, do I look happy?”
His eyes glanced up the rearview and I gave him my best frown.
“No, ma’am.”
“Remember that the next time Miss Minnie dangles a twenty in front of your nose, okay?” I returned to the deep, forward-facing seat and leaned my head back. “Tell me whose ass I’m going to have to drag out of the fire.”
“That game show guy... Mr. Gold.”
This time, when I shut my eyes a grin tickled my lips. In a particularly spectacular twist of fate, life had dropped a golden goose in my lap.
As Jerry said, we don’t get mad, we get even.
* * *
S ubtlety was not Miss Minnie’s forte. Her establishment lurked in a nondescript strip mall in the bowels of Koreatown. Small and dark, with blackened storefront windows, it would have been easy to miss... except for the neon sign. Huge, pink flashing neon screamed, “Miss Minnie’s: Let Us Rub You the Right Way.”
The parking lot was packed, so Paolo eased the big car to a stop in front of the door. I jumped out and burst through the doors, taking in the sign on the door that read, “Tonight’s Special—A Happy Ending for Everybody.”
Great. Giving Trey Gold a rub and a tug sent a shiver of revulsion down my spine. I’m very visual, which at times can be traumatic. This was one of those times.
Someone must’ve alerted Miss Minnie to my presence. Dressed in full geisha regalia, she rushed to greet me with hurried, mincing steps, her hands clasped at her stomach, her head bowed in a false show of respect. “Miss O’Toole.” Keeping her head lowered, she stopped in front of me. “You please us with your presence. It’s not often a woman such as yourself—”
“Cut the crap, Minnie,” I growled, using my full height to intimidate as much as possible. “Where’s Trey Gold?”
A door opened behind Miss Minnie, about halfway to the end of the long hall. Trey Gold stuck his head out. “Help me, Lucky!” His head
One of the hotel’s limos slid to the curb as I burst through the front entrance. Without waiting for Paolo to come around to assist me, I yanked on the handle, threw the door open, and dove inside. “Miss Minnie’s and make it quick.”
The acceleration threw me back against the seat as I pulled the door closed. Paolo glanced at me in the rearview, but said nothing. He was a small man, and behind the wheel he looked like a kid taking a joyride. Granted, his chauffeur’s cap made him look a bit more professional, but not by much.
“You okay, Miss O’Toole?”
Taking a deep breath, I tried to marshal my thoughts. “Fine, thank you.” I leaned back, savoring the silence, quieting the cacophony in my head. “Say, Paolo, you wouldn’t have taken anyone to Miss Minnie’s this evening, would you?”
Although I’d never been a driver in Vegas I knew how the system worked. Many of the local establishments, from fine dining to spouse-swapping party houses, offered drivers a kickback if they delivered a paying customer. As wily as a snake after a rabbit, Miss Minnie worked the system like a pro.
I opened my eyes in time to catch Paolo’s gaze flicking to me in the mirror, then away again. Guilty. I knew it. “Paolo, we had a talk about this. Miss Minnie is trouble.”
He ducked his head. From where I was sitting, he disappeared from view, which was a bit unsettling. I hoped he still could see where we were going. “The money, Miss O’Toole. It is hard to resist.”
“You make a tip. I get a problem dropped on my head.” I moved to the bench seat behind him and stuck my head through the open window separating the driver from the passengers. “It’s really unwise to piss off your boss.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“So, tell me again, who is your boss?”
“You are.” His voice lost some its normal exuberance.
“Look at me, do I look happy?”
His eyes glanced up the rearview and I gave him my best frown.
“No, ma’am.”
“Remember that the next time Miss Minnie dangles a twenty in front of your nose, okay?” I returned to the deep, forward-facing seat and leaned my head back. “Tell me whose ass I’m going to have to drag out of the fire.”
“That game show guy... Mr. Gold.”
This time, when I shut my eyes a grin tickled my lips. In a particularly spectacular twist of fate, life had dropped a golden goose in my lap.
As Jerry said, we don’t get mad, we get even.
* * *
S ubtlety was not Miss Minnie’s forte. Her establishment lurked in a nondescript strip mall in the bowels of Koreatown. Small and dark, with blackened storefront windows, it would have been easy to miss... except for the neon sign. Huge, pink flashing neon screamed, “Miss Minnie’s: Let Us Rub You the Right Way.”
The parking lot was packed, so Paolo eased the big car to a stop in front of the door. I jumped out and burst through the doors, taking in the sign on the door that read, “Tonight’s Special—A Happy Ending for Everybody.”
Great. Giving Trey Gold a rub and a tug sent a shiver of revulsion down my spine. I’m very visual, which at times can be traumatic. This was one of those times.
Someone must’ve alerted Miss Minnie to my presence. Dressed in full geisha regalia, she rushed to greet me with hurried, mincing steps, her hands clasped at her stomach, her head bowed in a false show of respect. “Miss O’Toole.” Keeping her head lowered, she stopped in front of me. “You please us with your presence. It’s not often a woman such as yourself—”
“Cut the crap, Minnie,” I growled, using my full height to intimidate as much as possible. “Where’s Trey Gold?”
A door opened behind Miss Minnie, about halfway to the end of the long hall. Trey Gold stuck his head out. “Help me, Lucky!” His head
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