3. Erin
CHAPTER 3
ERIN
O r maybe not.
Day Two in Vegas, and I borrowed Ari’s shower, a necessity because early this morning, I’d stepped outside for a few minutes to get some air and nearly melted. I’d lived in California for most of my life, with a brief foray to Florida and a two-month mistake in Texas, but this heat was unreal.
Sweat City, baby.
First thing this morning, I’d eaten breakfast from the buffet and then shown up early in the Library to get the table with the best view. What was the PI equivalent of dumping a towel on a lounge chair? I couldn’t leave a phone or a laptop or anything expensive in the bar, so I draped a sweater I definitely didn’t need to wear over the back of the chair and placed a paperback on the table beside a notepad and a pen. Would I need to make notes? I sure hoped not, because my handwriting was barely legible. Education wasn’t exactly a priority among the women in the Promised Land. The Prophet didn’t want us getting too smart. Perhaps that was why I hadn’t understood that antifreeze would kill my dad instead of just making him sick? Anyhow, all I’d done so far today was doodle a bit and tally up the hours as they ticked past.
This evening’s bartender was a slender guy with spiky hair and a nose ring, and he grinned at me as he pointed to a glass. Did I want another drink? I gave him a thumbs-up. Ari had confirmed with Jerry that our budget was generous, and that included the tips, so I’d been adding fifty percent and then pouring the lemonade into the potted plant beside me to avoid visiting the bathroom every thirty minutes.
Did lemonade kill plants? Probably I should have checked that first.
Anyhow, I’d been here all day and half the evening, and nobody had gotten upset that I was hogging a table for four. Ari had promised to come back for the evening shift, but she was running late. Something about a crisis in a Zen garden? I didn’t really understand. Ari had talked with a couple of contacts about loan sharks, and now she’d headed over to see Digby Rennick, the guy she worked for in Vegas who’d become a friend as well as a client. According to Ari and also Wikipedia, he was a math genius, and he’d offered to take a look at the Galaxy’s accounts. Alexa had uploaded a backup of the system to a secure portal, and when Ari pressed her as to how it came into her possession, she said she used the old pizza trick with one of the Galaxy’s accounting staff.
“Pizza trick?”
“You’ve won a million dollars? Obvious scam. You’ve won a personal pizza from Gino’s? They’ll give you their social security number and the name of their first pet.”
“Don’t they get suspicious when the pizza doesn’t show up?”
“Oh, I send them the pizza. I figure it’s the least I can do.”
So anyhow, Digby Rennick knew a bunch about numbers, and he also knew a bunch about money. He and Ari planned to look over the accounting entries to see if they could find any evidence of the loan Jimmy claimed he was owed.
While I watered a palm with soft drinks.
I didn’t much mind sitting here in the Library on my own. People-watching was fun, and I’d spent the afternoon guessing which jobs people did. The uptight douchebag who’d berated Janine for serving him a martini in a glass with smears earlier this afternoon was clearly in management, and the guy with the weirdly white teeth was either a dentist or a game show host or he’d taken a recent vacation in Turkey. The guy with the tight jeans, pink T-shirt, and high pain threshold? Either a Silicon Valley refugee, a barista, or a tattoo artist. Boy, did he have a lot of ink. Who would voluntarily sit there and be stabbed by a needle for hours? Not me. Two years ago, I’d had a roommate with the tiniest tattoo ever. It was a dot. A blue dot. My other roommate told me it was supposed to be a mermaid, but the coward had run screaming from the chair.
Anyhow, Tattoo Guy ordered a fancy cocktail and sat at the bar, and I watched as a blonde in a minuscule pink dress approached. A blind date? They spoke for several moments, he shook his head, and she took a seat at the table in the farthest corner with a glass of water. At least, it looked like water. It could have been vodka.
I pretended to read as she approached three more men through the afternoon. The third nodded rather than shaking his head, and the two of them disappeared. Did this hotel rent rooms by the hour? I was almost sure she was looking for payment, especially when she returned exactly sixty minutes later, alone, and ordered a shot of amber liquor plus another glass of water.
Every so often, a member of staff would come or go through the door to the executive suite, but they were mostly old or female or both, and I didn’t see anyone resembling Jimmy. Ari had said it was a long shot, but we didn’t exactly have many short shots at the moment, and who was I to complain about eating all day? This hotel might have two stars on Trip Advisor, but they sure did get their fries crispy. Special potatoes? Special oil? I considered asking, but then I decided I’d rather not know.
The Library grew a little busier in the evening. A couple walked in, glanced around, and left again. Pink Dress waved as two friends in similar attire appeared, and they moseyed over to her table in the corner. One of them waved to the bartender on the way. Whatever they were up to, it was clearly sanctioned.
Another three girls teetered in, all blonde, and I wondered if they might be friends with Pink Dress too, but the newcomers were younger and they didn’t so much as glance in her direction. They made a beeline for the bar instead, and was it me, or did the bartender grimace faintly?
Yes. Yes, he did.
A tall guy meandered in, wearing loose-fit jeans, a baggy sweater, sunglasses, and a ball cap with mid-brown hair sticking out from underneath. Who wore sunglasses indoors? Did he have a vision problem? Or was he a rapper? No, his chin was hidden by a big, bushy beard, and didn’t rappers mostly have goatees? Anyhow, he seemed to be able to read the menu okay, although he’d be waiting a while for service. There were only two busy waitstaff working in the restaurant tonight compared with the three yesterday. Did someone call in sick?
Ari said that Cole wanted to save the hotel for the staff, that he didn’t want them to lose their jobs, but the place was already running on a skeleton crew.
At seven, Ari texted to say she’d be another hour or so because she was still going through numbers with Rennick. Did that mean they’d found something? I hoped they had. Sitting in the Library would be fun for a day or two, but any longer and I’d get bloated and bored.
I began typing out a text.
Me: Did you ? —
“Hey, could you move seats?”
I raised my head to see the trio of blonde girls staring at me, drinks in their hands. They looked nearly the same—bleached hair, tan skin, condescending expressions on their faces—but each wore a different shade of lipstick. Cotton candy, cherry, and plum.
“I like this table.”
“But that table is for four people,” Cotton Candy said, her tone a mix of bitchiness and derision. No wonder the bartender had grimaced. “And you’re on your own.”
“I’m waiting for somebody.”
“But we’re here now, and whoever you’re ‘waiting for’ isn’t.”
“Yes, you’re here, but the restaurant is half empty. There are at least twenty other tables that will seat the three of you.”
“Okay, so we need this table. We’re shooting a BuzzHub video, and that shelf you’re in front of is the one we need to use for our background.”
“There are shelves around the entire room. Why can’t you use one of those?”
“Because this one has the best lighting.” She said it like I was stupid.
Someone walked toward the staff door, and I peered around Cherry to get a better look. False alarm. It was the same slightly harried man I’d seen half a dozen times already. I wasn’t sure what he did at the Galaxy, but I was pretty sure it involved popping antacids.
“Well, you’re not using these other chairs, so we can borrow them,” Plum said, dropping into the seat opposite me.
“Why do you have to act so entitled? I’m here for a quiet dinner, not to be an extra in your horror movie.”
Although years had passed since I left the Promised Land, I wasn’t sure I’d ever stop looking over my shoulder. Not as long as the Prophet was still alive. Which he was. The cult had a freaking website now, and it brought a whole new meaning to the word “doomscrolling.” According to The Promised Word —the book of writings that the Prophet swore the Lord had spoken into his ear—sinners who didn’t repent, donate all their worldly goods to the cause, and devote their life to serving Him were destined to suffer for eternity.
Also, my hair wasn’t exactly camera-ready. When the stress of surviving on my own made half of it fall out, I’d gone with a pixie cut because it was either that or random tufts everywhere. Plus boyish hairstyles were forbidden in the Promised Land, so chopping it off had felt like a small act of rebellion. But short hair didn’t suit me. And after an asshole in a strip club told me I had bad hair and a bad attitude, I’d decided to try growing it out again. Now it was at that awkward in-between stage where I wanted to reach for the scissors, but so far, I’d managed to resist.
Cotton Candy and Cherry gasped in unison at my comment.
“We are not making a horror movie,” Cotton Candy snapped. “We’re making BookBuzz videos.”
“Books are so hot right now,” Plum informed me.
“Can you even read?”
“Why are you being such a bitch?”
Cotton Candy pulled a bunch of books out of a tote bag and stacked them on the table. The top one looked as if it was in German. The title had those little O’s with the dots and the S that looked like a B .
“So you’re on German BuzzHub?”
Candy scoffed. “Of course not. Who needs to speak German?”
“Then why do you have a German book?”
“Because the sprayed edges are soooo pretty. No one buys special edition books to actually read them, you know that, right?”
Huh? Why would you buy a book if you weren’t going to read it?
“Okay, whatever, but you’ll have to go and not read your books somewhere else.”
“Are you dumb? We already told you why we’re here, and we know all about lighting. Last month, we were doing make-up videos.”
“Why did you stop?”
“Because views dropped, like, a ton. Everyone wants the natural look now.”
“You know what else is hot?” Cotton Candy said. “Knitting.”
Plum stared at her. “Knitting? Like, we’d have to learn to knit?”
“Maybe we could do flat-lays with coloured yarn?”
These girls were shallower than the gene pool at the Promised Land.
“This chat has been lovely, but can you just buzz off? My fries are getting cold.”
I reached for the ketchup, but I accidentally knocked my glass. It teetered for a second, then fell, splashing lemonade over the stack of books. To give the German novel its credit, the pages were great at soaking up the mess.
Cherry and Cotton Candy began shrieking while Plum turned an ugly shade of puce. She threw her fifteen-dollar cocktail in my face, and I felt rather than saw the slice of lemon and part of a kiwifruit slide down my top and settle in my bra .
Felt rather than saw because whatever was in that cocktail stung like hell, and I couldn’t see anything at all. My eyeballs were on fire. Hey, Frodo, I found Sauron and his twin. Heart racing, I tried to wipe away the liquid, but that only made the pain worse. Where was that wailing coming from?
Oh, right. That was me.
Strong arms wrapped around my waist. Someone tipped me backward. More liquid poured over my face, and an ice cube hit my nose, but this time, the stinging began to ease. I reached up gingerly to assess the damage, but fingers grasped my wrist.
“Don’t rub your eyes,” a deep voice said.
A woman added, “That’ll only hurt more.”
I cracked open an eyelid and found Pink Dress watching me, an empty glass in her hand. Her two friends were hovering in the background along with the bartender, and when I twisted my head to the side, I saw Sunglasses Guy holding me. The three BookBuzz bitches were nowhere in sight.
“They scooted on out of here,” Pink Dress said, reading my mind. “Not a single manner between them.”
“I…I…It hurts.”
“Flush it with water. Tap water is fine. Where’s the nearest sink? Or a shower?”
“There’s a sink in the kitchen,” the bartender offered, pointing to a mirrored door.
Sunglasses Guy guided me with a hand on the small of my back as Pink Dress led the way. When we reached the tiny kitchen, he picked me up as if I weighed nothing and held my face under the faucet while Pink Dress smoothed my hair out of the way. The pain lessened, a smoulder compared to the raging inferno, and although it didn’t go away completely, my head cleared enough to realise that Sunglasses Guy’s hand was dangerously close to my ass .
“I’m fine now. All good.” I wriggled free and whacked my elbow on the edge of the sink. A yelp escaped along with several curse words, and I clenched my fists as another wave of pain rolled through me. “Everything’s just fine.”
I blinked furiously, trying to get rid of the itchy, prickly sensation.
“What was in that drink?” Pink Dress asked the bartender.
“Gin, Lillet Blanc, lemon juice, Cointreau, and a dash of absinthe.”
“Lemon juice? Yikes.”
Sunglasses Guy touched me on the shoulder, the lightest brush of his fingers, but it made me shiver.
“How do you really feel?” he asked.
I was too sore to lie. “As if someone poked me in the eye with a cactus. Cacti. I have two eyes, and they both hurt like heck.”
Pink Dress studied me blurrily. “You should probably get checked out at the hospital to make sure there’s no serious damage.”
“Kina was going to be a nurse,” one of her friends said from the other side of the room. “You should listen to her.”
A nurse? And now she was hanging out in a downmarket hotel and doing who-knew-what with men every few hours? I wasn’t in a position to judge—I’d had to take some questionable jobs to keep a roof over my head—but if she’d had to give up a career she wanted for one she didn’t, I did feel sad for her.
“You don’t want to take risks with your eyes,” Sunglasses Guy warned. “I’ll book an Uber.”
“No, no, I’ll call a friend.” I hated Ubers. When I lived in the Promised Land, the elders used to warn us never to get into cars with strangers, and now you could literally order a stranger in a car from your phone. Maybe the elders had been scaremongering, but enough girls had disappeared from the compound that I had reason to worry. Ari understood my fears. For sure, she’d pick me up as soon as she was done with Digby Rennick. “I need my phone.”
“Where’s it at?”
“On the table.”
“We’ll get your stuff.”
Kina disappeared with her friends in tow, leaving me alone in the kitchen with a man I didn’t know and a sudden swarm of butterflies. Great. I felt bad enough without a bout of nausea.
I’d begun inching toward the door, still blinking furiously, when he took off his sunglasses. Boy, he was handsome. Probably. I mean, what I could see looked good, but he reminded me of those witnesses they blurred out on true-crime shows. You could see them, but you couldn’t.
“I’m Rusty,” he said.
“Rusty at what?”
“It’s my name. Rusty.”
“Oh.” Between the pain and his proximity, I couldn’t think straight.
“Your name is Oh?”
“No, my name is Erin.”
Actually, my name was Joy, but I hated it. Erin was the name I’d picked out for myself, and Alexa had gotten me a passport, so it was official now. She’d offered to get me a driver’s licence too, but Ari had vetoed that idea after Kai gave me a lesson in his truck and I got distracted by a raccoon and then drove through a stoplight. I could kind of see her point.
“Good to meet you, Erin.”
He laughed, but why? “What’s so funny?”
My watering eyes? Or my blotchy face?
“Sorry. It’s just this whole…”—he pointed between us—“aw kwardness. My momma always said laughter was the best medicine.”
“Laughter isn’t making my eyes sting any less.”
“You want me to call an ambulance?”
“No! Do you know how much those things cost?”
Right after I escaped from the Promised Land, I’d taken the first bus that was getting the hell out of California and found myself in Rockport, Texas, cleaning hotel rooms so I could afford food. One of my roommates at the time had been bankrupted after he slipped over on a half-melted ice cream cone and broke his wrist. He’d warned me never to go near a hospital, even if I was dying. Life would be easier if you spent your money on a nice casket instead of on a healthcare provider’s Christmas party.
I did have insurance now, my brother had made sure of that, but I still wasn’t going to ride in an ambulance when Ari’s passenger seat was an option. All I had to do was call her and explain the situation and?—
“There’s no phone on the table, only a book,” Kina said.
“No, I definitely left it there.”
“A girl sitting nearby said a blond-haired guy was looking at your stuff, and he left when he noticed her watching him. She didn’t see him take the phone, but it isn’t there now, so he most likely did.”
Just my freaking luck. I was half blind, and I couldn’t even explain that to my boss.
“You want to borrow my phone?” Rusty offered.
I screwed my eyes shut harder, trying to focus. What was Ari’s number? She’d programmed it into my phone, and I’d never bothered to learn it by heart. Dumb, dumb, dumb . I should have done that. Why hadn’t I done it? I remembered Kai’s number, but if I called him, he’d never let me leave Santa Cruz again. I wiped my eyes, but that only made them hurt more, and I’d put mascara on this morning so I probably looked terrifying .
“Is my room key still on the table? I can wait for my friend upstairs.”
Why was Rusty shaking his head? And Kina too? Or had my vision just gone really weird?
“You’re going to the hospital,” Rusty said.
“But—”
“Your eyes are red, and they haven’t stopped watering.” That was true, the watering part at least. “If you won’t ride in an ambulance, and you won’t take an Uber, then I’ll drive you there.”
“No way.”
Kina turned on him. “Literally every woman learns in kindergarten that you shouldn’t get into cars with strange men.”
“Wait, isn’t it your job to get into cars with strange men?”
“I work out of a hotel room, you asshole.”
“Sorry, I just thought?—”
“Just because I’m a sex worker doesn’t mean you have to get all judgmental.”
“I didn’t mean that the way it sounded.”
“Oh, really? Men are happy to take advantage of my services when it suits them, and then they?—”
“Could I just squeeze past?” I asked. “I need to get to my room.”
“No!” they yelled in unison, and then Kina added, “I’ll drive you to the hospital.”
“I’m coming too,” Rusty said.
“No, you’re not.”
“So you’re planning to pay for her treatment?”
“Uh…”
“Then I’m coming.”
I raised a hand. “Do I get any say in this?”
On that one thing, they agreed. “No.”