Janet Evanovich - Explosive Eighteen

Grandma came with the little pink bottle. “Here it is,” she said, putting it on the table.

“I was the one who drank Stephanie’s love potion,” Lula said. “How was it defective?”

Annie went blank. She didn’t have an answer.

Grandma jumped in. “It’ll give you worms,” she said. “If you don’t drink the antidote soon enough, you get worms and all your hair falls out.”

“What about finding true love?” Lula asked.

“You gotta make a choice between true love and worms,” Grandma said.

Lula did a shiver. “I don’t want worms. Do you think it’s too late? Will the antidote work on me?”

“Only one way to find out,” Grandma said.

Lula chugged the bottle and felt her hair. “Anyone notice if I’ve been losing hair? Do I look like I got worms? I think I might feel some crawling around inside me.”

“Anything else?” Annie asked. “Do you feel a little chilly?”

“Yeah, maybe a little,” Lula said.

“That’s a sign that the antidote is working,” Annie told her.

Lula sat perfectly still. “I don’t feel nearly so wormy anymore.”

Buggy took a slice of beef off Lula’s plate and shoved it into his mouth.

“Say what?” Lula said to Buggy. “You just took my pot roast.”

“Honey Pot’s hungry,” Buggy said.

“Shrek wouldn’t never have taken Princess Fiona’s pot roast,” Lula said.

“Well, I’m not Shrek,” Buggy said. “I’m Honey Pot.”

“You’re no honey pot, either,” Lula told him. “Who the heck said you’re a honey pot?”

“You did.”

“I don’t think so,” Lula said. “You must be mistaken.”

“I want dessert,” Buggy said.

“How is that to act?” Lula said. “That’s just plain rude. You don’t go to someone’s house and ask for dessert. What’s the matter with you, anyways? I’m beginning to see you in a whole new light. Didn’t your mama ever teach you manners?”

“I don’t need manners on account of I’m cute,” Buggy said.

“You been operating under a delusion,” Lula said.

“Huh, well I’m going home if I can’t have dessert. Give me the keys to your car.”

Lula crinkled up her nose and squinted at him. “Excuse me?”

“I’m driving home. I want your car.”

“Are you smokin’ funny stuff or something? I’m not giving you my car. You’re lucky I don’t give you my foot up your ass.” Lula looked around the table. “Excuse me. I meant to say up your behind .”

My father was smiling. Usually he ate fast, with his head down, tuning out my grandmother’s ramblings. Tonight he was enjoying Lula giving the what-for to Buggy.

Buggy looked at my mother. “Is there dessert?”

“I made a pie,” my mother said.

Buggy sat up straight. “I like pie a lot.”

“You’re a oaf, and you don’t deserve no pie,” Lula said.

“You didn’t think I was a oaf this afternoon when you were doing nicky nacky on me,” Buggy said.

My father gave a snort of laughter, and my mother knocked back a tumbler of whiskey.

“That was before I took the antidote,” Lula told everyone. “I was under the influence of a potion.”

“I like nicky nacky,” Buggy said, “but it’s not as good as pot roast.”

My mother looked down the table at him, her eyes unfocused. “Thank you, dear.”

“Maybe you should leave,” I said to Buggy.

“Not until I get some pie.”

“Will you leave if I give you half the pie?” I asked.

“Yuh.”

Minutes later, he was out the door with his pie, walking toward his parents’ house.

“I’m worried about them worms,” Lula said. “I’m pretty sure I’ve still got them.”

“I DON’T KNOW how I could have thought I liked that idiot Buggy,” Lula said. “I tell you, you gotta be careful what you’re drinking these days.”

I was cruising around the casino parking garage looking for a spot close to the elevator. I’d taken the time to lose Lancer and Slasher before driving south, but I still had to worry about Raz, and possibly others.

I found something acceptable, and Lula and I took the elevator to the casino floor. I’m not much of a gambler, but I love being in a casino. I like the flash of lights, the bells ringing, the energy of the people, the theme park-fantasyland atmosphere. I’m willing to throw a small amount of money into the slots, but I have no illusion about winning. I can’t count fast enough to play blackjack, I’m like death at a roulette table, and I’m the world’s worst poker player.

“First off, I gotta play some slots,” Lula said, taking it all in.

“We’re working,” I told her. “And you always lose all your money when you play slots.”

“Yeah, but I feel lucky today.”

“You always say that.”

“It’s on account of I’m a positive person. My glass is half full. You’re one of them half-empty-glass people.”

“Knock yourself out,” I said. “I’ll call you if I need you.”

This was my first time in this particular casino. It was located at the far end of the boardwalk, and it offered no good reason why anyone should walk the distance. I wandered around, getting the lay of the land, paying attention to security. Like every other casino, this one had uniformed guards and plainclothes guys who stood flat-footed, eyes glazed over from tedium. An earbud plugged them into some central command, and the promise of a stiff drink at the end of their shift kept them from shooting themselves in desperation.

I picked out a suit who looked like he’d rather be cleaning kennel cages than standing his shift, and I moved into his field of vision.

“Hey,” I said. “How’s it going?”

“Slow.”

“Yeah, not a lot of people here. I guess it picks up on weekends. I haven’t been here in a while. Lately, I’ve been going to the other end of the boardwalk.”

“You and everyone else.”

“I used to talk to one of the security people here. He was real nice, but I don’t see him here tonight. His name is Mortimer Lancelot.”

“Morty,” the guy said. “He doesn’t work here anymore. Budget cuts.”

“Bummer. What’s he doing now? Is he at one of the other casinos?”

“No. None of the casinos are hiring. He went outside. I heard a rumor he got a job as a night watchman for one of the vendors. Real crap job. He was a senior guy here, too.”

Progress!

“So who hired him? What’s he guarding? Slot machines? Liquor? Vending machines?”

“I don’t know. Are you interested in Morty?”

“Just making conversation.”

“I get off in a couple hours. We could make conversation then if you want.”

“Sure. That would be great. I’ll be around.”

I crossed to the other side of the casino and climbed onto a barstool. There were two guys working behind the bar. One was keeping the cocktail waitresses supplied, and the other was servicing the bar customers. At the moment, there weren’t a lot of bar customers. Mostly me. I ordered a Cosmo and smiled when it was delivered.

“Not a lot going on,” I said to the bartender.

He studied me for a minute. “You were looking for action?”

“No. I was looking for an old friend. I used to work with this guy years ago, and someone told me he worked here now, but I don’t see him. Morty Lancelot.”

“You’re about six months late. Morty and a bunch of others got caught in a budget crunch, and it was adios.”

“That sucks.”

“Yeah, they got rid of everyone at the top of the pay scale. I’m still here because I work for peanuts. Literally.”

He took a little glass dish, scooped peanuts into it from a tub under the bar, and set them in front of me.