nipples. Leaning over me, one of those breasts brushing my shoulder, she reached languidly for a hair dryer on the bench. My mouth went dry and I nearly choked on my tongue. Little Coop woke up and sprang out of bed, causing me to shift in my seat.
‘Thanks,’ she said, sauntering away.
Alabama reappeared from around the island, now dressed in jeans and a blue cotton top, and not nearly as happy as I was.
‘Some of us are goin’ out for a bite t’eat, ’Bama,’ said the black woman. Her weight shifted to one hip and Alabama’s hair dryer dangled by its cord from her fingers. ‘Maybe you an’ your frien’ wanna join us.’
‘We’ll call you.’ Alabama frowned at me and said, ‘Shall we go?’
‘With her?’ I gestured at the topless tall. ‘To eat?’
‘No.’ Alabama picked up her shoulder bag and the Bally’s bag with the FedEx packaging inside and headed for the door. I had no choice but to follow. I glanced back in the direction I’d seen the black woman heading. She was now sitting at a mirror and I caught her reflection smiling at me. There was all kinds of trouble in that smile.
A short walk later, Alabama and I left the theater area and entered the lobby. ‘You want to ask me about Sugar, don’t you?’ Alabama said as we joined the throng of midnight gamblers moving between Bally’s and Paris.
‘Sugar?’
‘The black woman: Sugar. Not a stage name either. It’s on her driver’s license. I’m only asking because you’re a man and therefore susceptible. Hell, even I’m susceptible to Sugar.’
The thought of Alabama and Sugar rolling around in a clinch was something I was prepared to consider favorably, as was my mischievous little buddy who lived in his own cloistered world down below.
‘Everyone wants to fuck Sugar. She’s usually happy to oblige. I’m pretty sure she wants to fuck you.’
‘Me?’ I asked.
‘Why not? She wants to take everything she thinks is mine, and you’re with me, so . . . Perhaps she has something against me. I think she fucked Randy.’
I sensed that I was getting in the middle of something with sharp nails. Whatever, there seemed to be a lot of fucking going on here.
‘It’ll come with obligations, though,’ she continued.
‘What will?’
‘Doing Sugar.’
‘Okay,’ I said, as if taking this on board. The truth was that it had been well over eight months since I’d been with anyone, which was plenty long enough for even muscle memory to have amnesia, despite Little Coop’s antics.
‘I need a drink. You mind coming with me?’ she asked.
I still had questions and, I had to admit, one of them was the name of a half-decent bar. ‘Sure,’ I said.
Alabama led the way to the main exit. The guy managing the forecourt said hello to her and immediately took us to the head of the queue for cabs like we were Bally’s royalty. ‘Where are we going?’ I asked. There were plenty of places to drink at Bally’s.
‘Away from here. This is where I work.’ The forecourt guy closed her cab door after she palmed him a tip. ‘Caesars,’ she told the driver.
Outside, the Vegas Strip was just coming into its stride, the sidewalks packed, the neon adding a few degrees to global warming.
‘Tell me more about Randy’s job,’ I said.
‘He ferries aircraft around the country, mostly. Sometimes he goes away for a few days, interstate. Occasionally he flies to other countries. This is his first trip to Australia.’
‘What about Nevada Aircraft Brokers? Did Randy talk much about his job there?’ I took out the card she’d given me.
‘He’s a pilot – he loves flying, but sometimes the hours get him down.’
I turned the card over. ‘And what about his boss, Ty Morrow?’
Alabama’s phone rang. She cut the caller off, but then the cell rang again and this time she answered it. From what I could gather it was a girlfriend, the conversation small talk. Alabama rolled her eyes for my benefit like she wasn’t particularly
‘Thanks,’ she said, sauntering away.
Alabama reappeared from around the island, now dressed in jeans and a blue cotton top, and not nearly as happy as I was.
‘Some of us are goin’ out for a bite t’eat, ’Bama,’ said the black woman. Her weight shifted to one hip and Alabama’s hair dryer dangled by its cord from her fingers. ‘Maybe you an’ your frien’ wanna join us.’
‘We’ll call you.’ Alabama frowned at me and said, ‘Shall we go?’
‘With her?’ I gestured at the topless tall. ‘To eat?’
‘No.’ Alabama picked up her shoulder bag and the Bally’s bag with the FedEx packaging inside and headed for the door. I had no choice but to follow. I glanced back in the direction I’d seen the black woman heading. She was now sitting at a mirror and I caught her reflection smiling at me. There was all kinds of trouble in that smile.
A short walk later, Alabama and I left the theater area and entered the lobby. ‘You want to ask me about Sugar, don’t you?’ Alabama said as we joined the throng of midnight gamblers moving between Bally’s and Paris.
‘Sugar?’
‘The black woman: Sugar. Not a stage name either. It’s on her driver’s license. I’m only asking because you’re a man and therefore susceptible. Hell, even I’m susceptible to Sugar.’
The thought of Alabama and Sugar rolling around in a clinch was something I was prepared to consider favorably, as was my mischievous little buddy who lived in his own cloistered world down below.
‘Everyone wants to fuck Sugar. She’s usually happy to oblige. I’m pretty sure she wants to fuck you.’
‘Me?’ I asked.
‘Why not? She wants to take everything she thinks is mine, and you’re with me, so . . . Perhaps she has something against me. I think she fucked Randy.’
I sensed that I was getting in the middle of something with sharp nails. Whatever, there seemed to be a lot of fucking going on here.
‘It’ll come with obligations, though,’ she continued.
‘What will?’
‘Doing Sugar.’
‘Okay,’ I said, as if taking this on board. The truth was that it had been well over eight months since I’d been with anyone, which was plenty long enough for even muscle memory to have amnesia, despite Little Coop’s antics.
‘I need a drink. You mind coming with me?’ she asked.
I still had questions and, I had to admit, one of them was the name of a half-decent bar. ‘Sure,’ I said.
Alabama led the way to the main exit. The guy managing the forecourt said hello to her and immediately took us to the head of the queue for cabs like we were Bally’s royalty. ‘Where are we going?’ I asked. There were plenty of places to drink at Bally’s.
‘Away from here. This is where I work.’ The forecourt guy closed her cab door after she palmed him a tip. ‘Caesars,’ she told the driver.
Outside, the Vegas Strip was just coming into its stride, the sidewalks packed, the neon adding a few degrees to global warming.
‘Tell me more about Randy’s job,’ I said.
‘He ferries aircraft around the country, mostly. Sometimes he goes away for a few days, interstate. Occasionally he flies to other countries. This is his first trip to Australia.’
‘What about Nevada Aircraft Brokers? Did Randy talk much about his job there?’ I took out the card she’d given me.
‘He’s a pilot – he loves flying, but sometimes the hours get him down.’
I turned the card over. ‘And what about his boss, Ty Morrow?’
Alabama’s phone rang. She cut the caller off, but then the cell rang again and this time she answered it. From what I could gather it was a girlfriend, the conversation small talk. Alabama rolled her eyes for my benefit like she wasn’t particularly
Similar Books
