Stephen Cannell - King Con

"Why don't you go play this?" he said, and Calliope snapped up the money like a hungry tree lizard, tongue-zapping an insect.

She got up and faced him. "Y'know, Tommy, you don't always have to treat me like I'm some kinda rental. I have feelings."

"Right, but ya don't give a shit about mine. You're in my ear all day long… 'Do this, change that.' This ain't my hotel."

"You said it was…"

"Joe makes all the decisions."

"You let him boss you around. He's your little brother, you should stand up to him. He's not so smart."

"Just go blow the five benjies and stop chewing on me."

She turned and walked away, swaying her ass, trying to cool him down by giving him a show, but Tommy missed it. His eyes never left the girl at the bar. When the tall, redheaded guy turned and left her, she immediately motioned for the bartender to get her check. Tommy waved to the bartender, shook his head, then pointed to himself. The bartender nodded, then leaned down and spoke to the girl, who glanced at Tommy. Then she deliberately opened her purse and paid her bill anyway. She got up from the bar stool, started to leave, then abruptly turned and moved toward him. He could see the sway of her hips, see the outline of her nipples through the translucent fabric of her gown. She moved to him, stopped, then put one hand on her hip and smiled.

"I can afford my own drinks. But thanks," she said; her seductive voice whistled like a cold wind blowing across smooth marble.

"They're complimentary," Tommy said. "Compliments of the casino. I'll have the money returned to your room if you give me the number."

"You work for the casino…?"

"I own the casino… From now on your money is no good in this place," he said softly. Then he followed that with his best smile, which would qualify at most hangings as ghoulishly speculative. "Thomas Rina," he said and stood, putting out his hand. She was almost four inches taller and he had to look up at her, but for once he didn't mind being shorter because he was too busy admiring her. She was the best piece of free-floating pussy he had seen in his entire life.

"I noticed a lotta guys asked you to dance… What's wrong, you don't like to dance?"

"Wrong verb," she said coolly, and Tommy's grin widened.

"How'd you like to join me for dinner on the High-roller floor?" he said, thinking he could get her out of here and take her to the private dining room on the key-locked High-roller floor on ten, and avoid running into Calliope. He hadn't given Calliope a key to the High-roller floor because she would probably spew out her complaints and upset the thousand-dollar bettors. He also didn't need her up there dressed in short-shorts and heels, pissing on him in public. This Goddess was different. She was sexy and classy at the same time. "How 'bout you join me for dinner?" Tommy pressed.

"I'm with some people," Dakota smiled.

"Friends?"

"Not exactly… I met 'em in Vegas, flew down here with 'em on their private plane. Now I'm kinda stuck."

"What's your name?"

"Dakota Smith," she said softly, her husky voice sensual and full of promise.

"And that guy you were with over there… he's not your boyfriend?"

"I don't know what he is right now… a mistake, probably."

"Well, things're definitely looking up," Tommy said, again smiling unattractively.

"You own this place? Really?" she said, and he nodded. Then a thought seemed to hit her. "Douglas and his Uncle Harry have a table in the Pelican Room for dinner. They paid my way so I better join them, but I've never been to the High-roller floor. Maybe I could ditch them and meet you for a drink later."

"How 'bout right here, ten-thirty?"

"Make it eleven," she said, smiling at him. "Am I dressed okay for the High-roller floor?" she asked.

"Baby, if you were dressed any better you'd set off the fire alarm."

She smiled and walked out of the bar, turning every head. Tommy didn't usually connect so easily… He had sometimes dated beautiful women, but they were pros and Tommy always had to pay, but luckily, this Goddess was different.

The Pelican Room overlooked the ocean on the mezzanine level. It was elegant, with off-white carpet and dark wood antique tables and chairs. The silver was authentic. Buzini gave Beano and Duffy a key to Suite 10-B. He told them it was one of their best High-roller suites and was on the key-locked tenth level. After he left, Dakota joined them at the table in the magnificent dining room, but was strangely silent.

"You hook up with Tommy?" Beano finally asked.

She nodded. "We're meeting later. He looks worse than I remembered. A housefly in loafers."

Beano nodded and started to say something…

"Don't, Beano. Okay? I'll do my end, you do yours. It's about Carol, not about you and me." She looked at Duffy. "You get the perfects?" she asked, referring to the casino dice.

"Twelve sets. I'm blowin' farts on 'em right now t'keep 'em warm," he grinned.

They ordered dinner but said very little. There was a strange tension between Beano and Dakota that cut through the air like words screamed in silence. Finally, after they finished their coffee, the beautiful mack put down her napkin. "If you're looking for company, you should take Victoria out. Show her your multi-terrain personality. Might stir up some of her bottom sediments."

"Maybe I'll do that," Beano said.

Then Dakota turned and walked out of the restaurant… Neck cartilage snapped all around her.

"You two should lay off," Duffy said.

"I fell in love with her once. She spit me out like fish bones."

"So it's over."

"I know." He tapped his head. "At least in here, I know." Then he got up, pulled Duffy away from the table, and pushed him out of the room.

VICTORIA WAS STILL DOWN BY THE GOLF SHOP, WAITing with Roger, when Beano finally called and told her to get Duffy's overnight case from the car and come to the fire door on the east side of the hotel. The little terrier followed her as she got the small blue canvas bag out of the van and went off in search of the door. She found Beano standing outside, looking out at the moonlit ocean.

"How'd it go?" she asked, handing him the bag.

"We got the casino perfects. We're comped into a High-roller suite on ten. It's a key-locked floor. How you doing, Rog?" he said, and the little dog looked at him and cocked his head as if he wasn't certain. "Come on," Beano said.

He opened the door, which he had propped open by leaving his shoe in the threshold. He removed the loafer, slipped it on, and they climbed the stairs to the third floor. He opened the door there and checked the hall before leading Victoria and Roger-the-Dodger out to the elevator. They got in and he used his key to activate the button to the tenth floor. They rode up without speaking as calypso music from the recessed speaker washed over them.

Victoria followed him out on the tenth floor and over to Suite 10-B. Beano knocked on the double doors and Duffy opened one a crack and peaked through before opening it wide. Victoria walked into a magnificent beige and white suite with a twelve-foot exposed-beamed ceiling, a wide balcony, and louvered windows to deflect sunlight. The furnishings were tasteful, but slightly bland, the major exception being several pieces of Bahamian metal sculptures of native spear fisherman that she thought were truly stunning. Beano and Duffy had ordered caviar and champagne which they had barely touched and, since she was starved, she took several toast squares and loaded them with the tiny black fish eggs, wolfing it down. She fixed one for Roger, who sniffed it before looking up at her with wise eyes that seemed to say, "What, are you kidding me?"

"It's an acquired taste," she said to the dog, while Beano handed Duffy the blue canvas bag. Duffy opened it and started laying the contents out on the blond-ash dining room table. The plug-in drill and bit were very small.