Norman Partridge - The Ten-Ounce Siesta

They flew above the lights of Vegas. It was really special. All those people partying down on the Strip. Soon they were over a neighborhood Angel didn’t recognize. A golf course surrounded by super-nice houses. Mansions, really.

The chopper hovered lower, passing over the roof of a mansion. Angel was kind of surprised. It didn’t look like there was a party here. Only two cars were parked in the driveway.

Angel was a little worried. Her Versace dress was riding up, and she pulled it low on her thighs. As low as it would go, anyway.

“Is this the right place?” she asked.

“This is my house,” Tony said. “I need to pick up a few Christmas gifts that I haven’t had a chance to deliver. Then we’ll drive over in my car. The party isn’t far.”

The chopper touched down on the golf course next to the house. Tony opened the door and stepped out before Angel could say a word.

He offered her his hand.

Just like a real gentleman.

The Christmas tree that stood in the domed living room was nearly twenty feet high. Angel stared at the twinkling white lights and decorations, cradling Spike in her arms. She wished Tony would hurry up. It was almost midnight. Even if they left his place right now, they would probably be late for the party. Angel was worried about that. Tony’s fiancee would be really mad. She’d probably take it out on him, but she might take it out on Angel.

Either way, Angel didn’t want to be with a bunch of strangers right now. But how could she get back to the Strip? The chopper was long gone. .

Maybe Tony would call a cab for her. She’d say that the pink ladies were hitting her a little too hard, and that she wasn’t feeling especially well. .

No. That wouldn’t work, either. The Strip was jammed with people. Getting to the Casbah by cab would be impossible. Tony knew that as well as she did. No way she could get back home until-

A pair of strong arms encircled her from behind.

“Tony. Hey. . Tony. Don’t.”

Tony didn’t listen. He pulled Angel against his belly, and she was so surprised that she nearly dropped Spike.

“Tony. . stop!”

His hand was under her dress, between her legs and- “Surprise, surprise,” Tony said. “The Tiger didn’t figure you for the panty-wearing type, bitch.”

“No!” Angel shouted, and Spike jumped from her arms.

She spun away from Tony. He let her go. She gasped for breath. Spike was over by the Christmas tree. In a second she’d pick him up and head for the door-

Tony was wearing a black silk robe. Nothing else. He let the robe fall open. “You might as well get down on the floor and spread your legs, Angel. It’ll go a lot easier that way.”

She was still a little drunk. She tried to think logically. She said, “But your fiancee. . the party-”

“There is no party. Except for the one we’re having here.” He smiled. “I do have a fiancee, though. I didn’t lie about that. The bitch walked out on me last night. It’s not the first time she’s done it, and it won’t be the last.”

Angel backed toward the Christmas tree. “You know who I am. You know who my grandfather is. If he finds out about this-”

“He won’t find out.” Tony slipped off his robe and followed her. “You won’t tell him. Just think how it would sound: Grandpa, I got drunk with the heavyweight champ on New Year’s Eve. You know, the jailbird with all the tattoos. I let him take me home. And then he-”

“Stop it. Just stop it.”

But Tony didn’t stop at all. He grabbed her and tossed her against the wall. She had nowhere to run. And then his hand closed around her throat.

“Stop it, Angel,” he said. “Stop acting so innocent. Everyone in town knows your game. Those guys I mentioned. . they told me all about you. Even your girlfriends are wise to you. You’re a little starfucker.”

“No. . I’m not-”

“Come off it. I’ve been in the best bars in Las Vegas, honey. And I’ve seen your name written on the restroom wall in every damn one of ’em.”

“That’s not true.”

Tony smiled a really awful smile. “Tell me it’s not.”

His hand slid under her dress. Angel slammed her fists against his chest, but he only laughed and shoved her back against the wall.

Spike scampered around his ankles, barking. He kicked the dog away. Then he came at Angel again.

The point of her shoe smacked his shin and he grunted. He slapped her and called her a bitch. She slapped him back and then he caught her hand and turned her around and suddenly she was on the floor, her face buried in the thick shag carpet, and Spike was barking again and Tony’s hands were between her legs and he roughly parted her thighs.

“No!” she screamed. “No!”

Tony laughed. Spike growled. .

. . and then Tony screamed.

Suddenly he was off her. Angel rolled over fast and gained her feet.

Tony lay on the white carpet.

Spike was between his legs.

There was a lot of blood.

“Spike!” Angel shouted. “Spike. . no!”

Spike ran to her side. She scooped him up and stumbled to the door and didn’t look back. As she ran down the driveway, she heard Tony Katt’s screams.

The cool night breeze cut through her Versace dress as she hurried down the street. Gunfire exploded behind her. She ducked into some oleander bushes, clutching Spike to her breasts.

Not gunfire. Firecrackers. It was New Year’s Eve. It was midnight. All over Las Vegas, women were kissing men that they loved. And here she was, cold and shivering, hiding in some stranger’s oleander bushes, hoping that no one would see her at all.

When it was quiet, Angel started down the street. Spike whined in her arms, but she wouldn’t set him on the ground. She was afraid that he might run off.

There were no pay phones in a neighborhood like this one. Angel had to keep walking, even if she had no idea where she was. Every time a car approached, she found a place to hide.

She didn’t know how badly Tony was hurt. She was afraid that he would come looking for her. And Spike.

Finally, Angel found a way onto the golf course. She wandered toward a building that turned out to be the pro shop. She was circling it, looking for a pay phone, when a security guard stopped her.

He took her to an office. Angel paid him fifty dollars for one phone call and another fifty to forget the whole thing.

Angel phoned a girlfriend who agreed to pick her up as soon as the traffic died down. Then she sat in the office and waited, petting Spike. The guard didn’t say a word. He didn’t have to. The way he looked at her said it all.

When her friend arrived a few hours later, Angel left as quickly as she could.

The guard stuffed two fifties into his pocket and laughed at the girl in the little black dress as she crossed the parking lot, clutching a dog to her bosom like it was a baby.

“You two have a Happy New Year,” he yelled.

“The guy who drove the limo is an ex-con from California,” Jack said. “His name is Harold Ticks, and he did time in Corcoran State Prison with Tony Katt.”

“They’re after more than money. If Tony Katt’s involved in this, he wants revenge.”

“Maybe. But we don’t know that for sure. Maybe the money is the revenge.”

“I don’t think so, Jack. One of the kidnappers phoned me. . probably this guy Harold Ticks. He said that I was going to deliver the ransom, alone. He said if I didn’t come alone. Spike would end up dead. He’s supposed to call back with the details later today.” She shook her head. “The guy wants me to get the money from a safe-deposit box Granddad set up for me a couple years ago. But if they want me to deliver the ransom. . well, then I think they want me as much as they want the money.”