That’s all this was. Alex was her nudge and his party would be her chance to embrace oblivion for a while.
Yes. They would attend Alex’s party and she would have a blast.
No looking back. No more Tommy.
No more pain.
It was time to get her party on.
Chapter Five
“I’ll need a name for the reservation.”
Gordon Dean glanced around the shabby motel lobby. Where was that smell coming from? Probably a dead mouse behind the wall.
“Hey, buddy. Your name?”
“Oh, right. David. Uh, David Johnson.”
The manager, whose smoke-stained mustache matched his yellowed fingers, scrawled it on a paper. “Right. Welcome to Vegas,David Johnson. Cash or credit?”
“Cash.” He couldn’t leave any records. When the clerk gave him a figure, he handed over a small stack of bills.
“So.” The clerk turned his back and proceeded to rummage through a drawer full of keys. “You here for business or pleasure?”
“Neither.”
“Just passing through?”
“Yup. Just passing through.”
The man handed him a greasy key card. Gordon shoved it in his pocket and tried not to grimace. Of course, he could have shelled out for a room at Vice, as much as it would have killed him to add more zeroes to Alex Markov’s bank account. Close proximity would have been nice but the hotel was completely full.
No matter. He didn’t need a reservation at Vice for what he wanted to do.
Lots of visitors to Vegas spent time wandering through the various properties. He wouldn’t look out of place strolling through Markov’s new palace.
“How did you hear about us?” asked the manager.
“I didn’t. I just asked the cabbie to bring me to the cheapest motel near the Strip.”
The man’s face fell. “Oh. I was kind of hoping you’d heard about us.”
Gordon gritted his teeth. “What room am I in?”
“You know, back in the day, visitorschoseto stay here. But now, everyone wants a fancy hotel with all the bells and whistles. In my day, tourism was simple. People were simple. Back then, tourists didn’t need magic shows and oxygen bars and table service. All they needed from their Vegas vacations were chips in their pockets, a hot buffet meal or two, and a fling with a couple of topless showgirls. Now that, my friend, was the life.”
“I’m sure it was. Can I get my room number now?”
“Of course, most of my best customers are dead now. Tell that to my three ex-wives, those greedy bitches.”
Gordon took a deep breath.Just give the old airbag a minute and he’ll run out of steam.
“I just can’t compete anymore. It’s like a new resort springs up every day, either that, or some snotty hotshot is offering up Celine Dion on a platter. Hey, did you hear that Russian guy Alex Markov just opened up a new nightclub? Did you see the picture from the grand opening? Surrounded by young honeys, he was. I bet that dirty immigrant gets all the ass he wants. They probably let him fuck them sideways too. Some guys get all the luck.”
Just the mention of Markov’s name made Gordon’s blood boil. “I really don’t care who Alex Markov is sleeping with.”
“Oh, yeah?” The man waved his pinky finger. “Are you funny? Because I don’t need those kinds of shenanigans in my establishment.”
