Girl of My Dreams (8 page)

“The stage act, right?”

She looked back at him innocently. “What else would I be referring to?”

“Yeah, sure. See you in Vegas.” The words sounded more like, “See you in hell.”

With that, Blake turned and stalked away. Again. He’d made a habit of that lately. Fine. She was glad he’d left.

Troy looked down at her. “Now the wet blanket’s gone, how about a drink? I could use a long, cool one myself.”

“A soda would be fine. I can’t handle anything stronger at the moment.”

Troy shot her a disappointed look. “Why not? It’ll loosen you up some. It might give you an edge over the competition.”

“I wonder who else you’ve said that to.” She arched her eyebrows and slid from his arms.

“Get wise. You know the game.”

“And if I don’t choose to play?”

Troy shrugged. “Suit yourself. It’s your loss.”

She put her hands on her hips. “Are you sure about that?”

Grudging admiration shown in his eyes as he looked Jillian up and down. “Well, darling, maybe both of ours.”

“Don’t worry. I’m sure Ms. 44D will be most happy to oblige. In fact, she’s coming this way now.”

Troy turned in the direction Jillian pointed. While the billionaire was distracted, she made her escape, rushing from the foyer and down the hall to the elevator.

Once upstairs, she slipped the key card into the slot and opened the door to her solitary room. She peeled off her costume and collapsed onto the bed.

As she lay alone on the satin coverlet, a tiny voice reminded her if she’d said yes to Blake, she wouldn’t be alone. He was smart enough to be discreet. No one would have been the wiser, except her, as she climbed to the stars wrapped in his arms.

Was self-respect worth the ache of denial?

CHAPTER NINE

THE LIMOUSINE CARRYING Jillian and the other four contestants sped down the Las Vegas Strip. Though it was midnight, the sidewalks and streets of the city were jammed with tourists.

The blinking lights flashed across their faces, some driven and desperate, others hope-filled and excited. Jillian felt a kinship with all of them. Though their goals were different, she and the gamblers were both reaching for an elusive dream.            

She could have settled for momentary pleasure, but she’d turned it down for a more valuable prize. How many gamblers had been dissatisfied with meager winnings and had continued on, hoping for the jackpot? How many, by doing so, had lost everything they’d won? Judging from the scores of casinos and hotels dotting The Strip, the numbers were staggering.

Jillian sighed, wishing she could change the order of things. If only she could discover a way to make Blake see her as a person, not as a means to an end. Was there still hope?

“Lucky Sevens, here we are,” the driver announced.

She could use some luck. Jillian stepped from the limo and entered the casino. Immediately, her ears were bombarded by a cacophony of bells, buzzers, shouts and groans. A switch clicked in her brain. Excitement gripped her.

It was late, but she had to play. She paid the bellhop to take her bags up to her room and ventured into the casino proper. A waitress in a tube top and short-shorts asked if she’d like a drink. Jillian declined. She wanted to remember every detail. Where should she start?

How about a slot machine? That seemed easy enough. All she had to do was slide a bill into the top of a machine, press the button to say how much she’d spend and voilà, the money would shoot out.

Which machine should she pick? They came in all sorts of denominations: one, two cents, nickels, dimes, quarters, dollars, five dollars.

A nickel didn’t seem too bad. However, an examination of the various options on the machines proved that the so-called nickel machines were not properly named. To win a true jackpot you had to cover each square, which required forty-five cents a spin. She’d try it anyway.

Jillian slid a five dollar bill into the slot and pressed the nine button to cover all the squares and possibilities. The pictures spun, then stopped. Suddenly, the figure of an animated animal appeared in the upper left hand corner. Making squawking noises, it commenced flashing in and out of the surrounding squares.

“I don’t believe it. You got yourself a penguin right away. I was on that machine for over an hour and got nothing,” the man next to her said. He jumped off his stool. Jillian half expected him to hit her, but thankfully he just scowled before stalking away. What a killjoy. Thank goodness, he’d left.

Almost immediately a leather-faced, grey-haired woman claimed the vacated stool and began punching the buttons.

Jillian’s machine was still doing its thing. Credits rose. The penguin was behaving like a wild card completing each sequence of animals or numbers, as it proceeded around the screen. The amount soared. Jillian’s heart pounded faster and she felt lightheaded. This was wonderful.

Finally, the penguin completed its rounds and stopped in the far right corner. The words, “Game over,” flashed on the screen.

       She’d won a thousand nickels. How much was that? Jillian did a hasty calculation and came up with fifty dollars. It was more than she’d started with. She decided she’d better collect, so she pushed the button for a payout. As the nickels tumbled into the bin, she stared in fascination. What would she do with all these nickels?

The woman next to her paused between punching buttons and pointed between the machines. “You should have played one of those ticket machines instead. When those hit, you get a ticket to exchange for cash. Lots easier than carrying a bucket of coins.”

“Thanks. I wish I’d known that. I guess you can tell it’s my first time,” Jillian said.

“Beginner’s luck is better than none at all. You might want to cash those in while you can still carry them.”

That sounded like a good idea. The bucket did feel heavy. Clutching her weighty prize, Jillian staggered to the cashier’s line. As she waited for the others in front of her, her bounty grew heavier. What did people do who won more than she had? How could they carry it all? Like the lady had recommended, she’d look for a ticket machine the next time.

Finally, she reached the front of the line, where her nickels were dumped into a counting contraption.

“Congratulations and good luck.” The cashier smiled and handed Jillian a fifty-dollar bill.

So she wouldn’t be tempted to blow it all in one machine, she asked him to exchange it for two twenties and a ten.

Well, that had been easy. Smiling, she turned away. She now had money more money than she’d had when she’d entered the building. Countless riches awaited her.

 Jillian surveyed the area, speculating on where to go next. In one direction were genies, diamonds, pyramids, miners. In the next row were witches and sphinxes, mixed in with characters from television and game shows. It was hard to decide. She’d had luck with penguins before, so maybe she should stick with animals. She decided it was as good a plan as any.

She found one with a bear, and it gave tickets. Perfect. She sat on the stool in front of it, pulled out a ten-dollar bill and slid it into the slot. She pressed the button. The pictures spun around. The screen said, “Game over.” What was the matter here?

She pressed the button again and again, with the same results. Why wasn’t she getting any payouts?

She would not let this machine get the better of her. Frowning, Jillian withdrew a twenty from her purse and jammed it into the slot. One spin got her eighteen credits. That was better. The next took them away. She tried again. Thirty-six credits appeared, but the next spin drew nothing.

The machine was no longer a friend, but an enemy she would conquer. Adrenaline coursed through her veins. She would win this battle. The other twenty came out of her purse. With a jab, she thrust that bill into the slot.

Staring intently at the screen, she willed the machine to produce a jackpot. Small successes, but more failures greeted her. The last of her winnings disappeared as quickly as the first. Maybe the machine needed more money to get it back on the winning cycle. She reached for her wallet.

“Can you save my machine? I need more cash,” the man next to her said, a credit card clutched in his hand.

Jillian nodded. Not long ago she’d seen that same man slip a hundred-dollar bill into his machine. He’d lost it, yet now he was going back for more money. She paused in the act of withdrawing another ten from her wallet. If she weren’t careful, she’d end up like him. She could not afford that.

Wallet in hand, she hesitated. It was hard to say no when her machine refused to be ignored. The screen flashed. A musical ditty played. The song grew louder and more insistent, doing its best to lure her from her money.

She would not be conned. Resolutely she turned from the machine and ignored it. When the man came back, Jillian almost jumped off her stool.

Ignoring the buzzers, lights and the shouts of triumph, she rushed from the casino straight to the bank of elevators. Only when she’d entered the safety of her room did she breathe a sigh of relief. My, that was close. She’d almost succumbed to the gambling bug.

Though the lights were off, the drapes were open to the glitter of the outside world. She flung off her shoes. The thick carpet cushioned her soles as she slipped to the window to get a better view of the magnificent sight. Lights twirled and spun, beautiful and exciting, enticing her to rush back downstairs, throw caution to the winds and rejoin the frenzy.

She wouldn’t. She’d had enough. Tonight she’d learned a valuable lesson. A thin line separated strength from weakness. She’d almost crossed it.

IT WAS TEN in the morning. Jillian, along with the other four contestants, sat in the Queen of Hearts Banquet Room of the Lucky Sevens Hotel. Sipping a cappuccino, she considered the idea she’d come up with for the talent show. Would it work? It had to, since she’d already told Blake what props she needed, and the wardrobe mistress was putting together her outfit.

Gazing across the room, she searched for a sign she’d made the right decision. Not far away, a massive table groaned under the pressure of a giant buffet. Bacon, cheese and other delectable aromas piqued her nostrils and re-awakened her appetite.

She’d already enjoyed one giant plateful, but a few strawberries and a piece of cantaloupe wouldn’t hurt. Hadn’t someone once said food was the panacea for what ails you? She had to admit eating did take her mind off of her woes.

Jillian rose from her chair, ready to visit the table, then stopped. She didn’t have time to pig out. She better move if she were to be ready in time for the four o’clock show.

“All set for tonight?” At sound of his voice, shockwaves of awareness crashed through her.

“Almost. Did you get the card table, mixing bowl and spoon?” she asked, concentrating on straightening her chair and almost knocking it over in the process.

“What music do you want?”

“Whatever goes with what Selena picks for me to wear. The main thing is I do need an apron.”

“No problem. Anything else?”

“I can manage the rest.”

Before he could quiz her further, Jillian dashed away.

The concierge provided her with directions to the nearest grocery store, which was ten miles away. She had plenty of time to make it there, find the food items and get back before her turn on stage. To be on the safe side, she even splurged on a cab.

A slight built Hispanic driver opened the door for her, proceeded to turn up the radio, then took off like a bat out of hell. Normally, Jillian would have been frightened, but since she was in a hurry, she smiled as they sailed through the streets, with a happy, Spanish song pealing from the radio. Things were going well. 

At the supermarket, she had no trouble finding the items on her list. However, the checkout lines proved enormous. Even in Nevada, it appeared grocery stores were crowded on Saturdays. To make matters worse, the woman in front of her insisted on speaking to the manager about a missing product. Jillian debated whether it would be wise to move to a different line or stay put.

Unfortunately, they all looked as long. She might as well stay put. Whatever she decided, like everything else in Vegas, the grocery store was a gamble. Better stay calm and try to keep occupied.

She glanced at the newspaper rack and did a double-take. The smiling faces of a beautiful couple stared back at her. Wasn’t that Barbara Branton? The man with his arms around her was not her husband. Frowning, Jillian looked away.

That was all the confirmation she needed. She’d been right to refuse Blake. He operated in a different sphere than hers, with its own set of rules where moral standards did not apply.

The manager apologized to the customer. The conveyor belt rolled along with Jillian’s purchases on top. In a few minutes, she was done.

Feeling as if she were emerging from a battle zone, Jillian stepped through the automatic door. Had the cabby waited for her, as instructed?

Yes, what a blessing. With relief, she climbed inside. Her extravagance was paying off.