Twenty-eight
The hostess wanted to seat Frances and Edie as far from the entrance as possible.
“Should we hand out toilet paper, too?” Edie asked, eyeing the very close proximity to the bathrooms.
“Pardon?” said the young woman.
“Hon, this table won’t work for us,” Edie said. “It’s the acoustics. We’d like something in the middle of the room.”
“Certainly.” The hostess looked a bit miffed but turned around and headed for a table in the middle of the room.
“Acoustics?” Frances asked laughingly as they took their seat.
“Yeah, well, I’m not as quick on my feet as I once was,” Edie said. “And really, the acoustics in here are terrible. I could hardly hear her. But look, it worked. To your left.”
Frances turned her head. There sat Rocco Vitali in a round booth, squeezed in with two males and two females, all of them dressed to the nines.
Rocco was wearing a suit that looked too shiny to be fashionable, sitting with both arms splayed across the back of the booth like a king, observing the room and his companions.
From his vantage point, he could see everything.
Frances turned her attention to the menu. She pointed to her sleeve. “Is your microphone working?”
Edit touched something on her sleeve. “Absolutely,” she said, her voice coming in loud and clear.
“God, Nana, turn it down.”
They both started at the sound of Marcy’s voice blasting into their ears. Frances glanced over her shoulder to see Marcy hand her fake fur stole to the ma?tre d’ while Edie futzed with the tiny wire at her sleeve to turn down her mic.
Marcy glided to a stool at the bar and settled in. “I can see him in the mirror behind the bar,” she whispered. “Looks like he’s gained weight.”
“You need to get his attention,” Edie said, as if talking to Frances.
“Don’t worry,” Marcy said. “I will. Yes, a lemon drop martini, please?”
“I wouldn’t drink if I were you,” Edie said.
“Really?” Frances asked, looking up from the menu.
“I mean Marcy,” Edie clarified. “You need all your wits about you.”
“I’m fine,” Marcy said dismissively.
Frances noticed a single man at the bar was watching Marcy. “Looks like you’ve already got the attention of a guy on your right. I knew you had your grandmother’s genes. Don’t look. I’ll—”
“Good evening, ladies!”
A waiter had suddenly appeared at Edie and Frances’s table. He whipped out the napkins from their rings to lay in their laps. “My name is Tavon, and I’ll be your server this evening. May I interest you in a cocktail? A glass of wine?”
“Tavon? What sort of name is that?” Edie asked.
“Oh my God, Nana,” Marcy hissed into their ears. “You can’t ask questions like that.”
“Why not?” Edie asked.
“Pardon?” Tavon said. “I … I think my mom just made it up.”
Frances noticed that the man at the bar had stood up. He was moving in Marcy’s direction. “Here he comes,” she said low.
“I didn’t catch that,” Tavon said, still smiling.
“The guy in the blue?” Marcy asked. “I think he’s going to the bathroom.”
“Nothing for me, thank you,” Frances said.
“I’ll have a glass of pinot grigio,” Edie said.
“Oh, so you get to drink?” Marcy pouted into their ears.
“Yes. I have more experience at this.”
Tavon looked completely lost. “Umm …” He looked nervously between the two of them. “Would you like to hear our specials this evening?”
“Please,” Frances said, more to Edie and Marcy than to Tavon. As Tavon rattled off the specials, she watched the man at the bar pass right by Marcy and head to the bathroom.
“False alarm,” Frances said.
“‘Alarm’?” Tavon asked. “I’m sorry, would you like me to repeat it?”
“Tavon, give us a moment, will you?” Edie asked sweetly. “We’d like to peruse the menu.”
“Absolutely,” Tavon said, and practically sprinted away.
“Choose something,” Edie said to Frances.
“I will if you will stop talking to Marcy out loud,” Frances said.
“You did it, too!” Edie shot back.
“Just … figure something out,” Marcy begged them. “This is really confusing. Thank you!”
“For what?” Edie whispered.
“I was talking to the bartender.”
“This communication thing is going to sink us,” Frances muttered. “Who would have thought we’d be too stupid to pull off this part?”
“Practically the whole world,” Edie said. “Marcy, we are going to order. Sit tight.”
Tavon was back in a moment with the wine.
“I think we’re ready now,” Edie said, just as the man in the blue suit appeared from the bathroom hall and started back toward the bar.
“He’s coming back,” Frances said, a little frantically.
“Who?” Marcy asked at the same moment Tavon asked, “What?”
“The man is coming back,” Frances said a little louder.
Tavon looked over his shoulder, then at Frances. “What man?”
“I’m so sorry about my friend,” Edie said. “She’s got a condition.” She fluttered her fingers in the direction of her head.
Frances kicked her under the table. “I’ll have the fish,” she said, and handed Tavon the menu.
The man was near Marcy now, and he slowed his step. He seemed to be making a decision.
“Okay,” Frances said. “Heads up.”
“For …?” Tavon asked. Frances glared at Edie.
“That we’re both having the fish. Surprise!” Edie said, and shoved her menu at Tavon, then flicked her wrist, telling him to go.
“Marcy, the man is going to stop,” Frances said. “He means to speak to you.”
“Okay, Marcy, you should—”
“Nana. Frances. Cover your mic with your hand so I don’t have to hear every thought that tumbles out of your head,” Marcy said, and then, with the ease of a seasoned grifter, abruptly stood with her drink and turned into the man, colliding with him, and spilling her drink in the process.
“Oh my God!” she said, in a voice that was suddenly more southern than Frances had heard her speak before.
“I am so sorry. Let me get a napkin.” She twisted back to the bar and grabbed a bunch of napkins.
When she turned back, she knocked her glass off the bar.
It shattered loudly on the floor and the entire restaurant turned toward the sound.
“I’m so clumsy,” Marcy said.
Rocco had turned toward the commotion, too. He frowned. He sat up, squinting in Marcy’s direction.
“It’s really all right,” the man said, and took the napkins she was dabbing against his shirt. “I’ve got it.”
“The mark is looking at you,” Edie hissed.
Marcy glanced over the man’s shoulder at Edie, confused.
“Rocco,” Edie hotly clarified.
Marcy looked in Rocco’s direction. Her eyes locked with his and she froze.
“Can I buy you a replacement drink?” the man asked.
“Umm …” She turned her attention to the man again and smiled charmingly. “I’m sorry, what did you say? I think I just saw a ghost.”
“What?” The man turned and looked behind him.
Now they both had Rocco’s attention. Frances gave Edie a thumbs-up.
“Oh-kay,” the man said slowly. “About that drink?”
Rocco took the bait. He put his napkin on the table, made his friends move so he could shimmy out of the booth, then wended his way through the dining tables to the bar, where Marcy was still trying to dab at the stain on the man’s shirt.
“Is everything okay?” he asked, his gaze on Marcy.
“Bruh, it’s fine,” the man said curtly.
“Oh my God,” Marcy said, her accent very southern now. “I do know you.”
“Stop with the clean-up in aisle three,” Edie whispered.
Marcy stopped dabbing the man’s chest. “Rocco?”
The worm smiled. “Marcy! I thought that was you.”
“It’s so good to see you!” Marcy pushed the napkins into the chest of the man, forcing him to take them.
She stepped away from him, closer to Rocco.
“After all this time. Wow, you look amazing.” She smiled so prettily that Frances felt like she’d just shot back to the seventies and was watching Edie at work.
“So do you,” Rocco said.
“So, what are you doing here?” she asked brightly.
“I ah … I own the place.”
“What place?”
“This place. The casino.”
Marcy blinked. She put her hand on his arm and looked around them. The other man, Frances noticed, tossed down the damp napkins and slunk away. “No way. Really? Rocco—that’s amazing! But of course, it makes total sense. You were always so clever.”
“Thanks. But I thought …” Rocco caught himself. “What brings you to the Pelican?”
“I’m here with friends. And … they’re getting married!
Well, they were supposed to, but the happy couple got in this huge fight about his gambling, and I don’t know…
” She toyed with a dangling earring. “I thought I should make myself scarce while they work it out. I came in here for a drink, but then I did the dumbest thing and spilled on that poor man.”
“Don’t worry, we’ll take care of that,” Rocco said, and snapped in the direction of the bartender without looking at him.
“Oh my God,” Frances muttered.
“Are you staying here? At the Pelican?”
Marcy blinked.
“No,” Edie said firmly.
“Nope,” Marcy said. “The Bellagio.”
“Oh, the Bellagio,” Rocco said, nodding. “Nice place. The Pelican is going to be a lot nicer, when I’m done with it.”
Edie winked at Frances. “My granddaughter,” she mouthed. The Bellagio was more than nice—once, Frances and Nick had investigated staying there for an anniversary. But it was too rich for their blood.
“So, what are you … like, are you working?” he asked.
“Sure am. I have my own PR firm. Need any PR?” She giggled.
Rocco grinned. “Hey, come sit with me.” He slid his hand under Marcy’s elbow. “Let’s catch up.”
Edie and Frances smiled at each other like two proud parents.
“I don’t want to bother you. You’re with friends,” Marcy said.
“I’ll get rid of them,” Rocco said.
Marcy laughed. But she put her hand on the arm he offered and allowed him to escort her to the corner booth.
The men there scrambled up from their seats.
The two young women looked at Marcy with jealousy.
After some discussion, the four of them gathered their things and left, the girls casting a look at Marcy on their way out.