Gorilla Beach (25 page)

Gia said, “You can start by folding our drawers neatly and putting them back where you found them.”

Fredo let out a low moan. “I'm sorry. Honestly, I don't know how that happened.”

“I'm going in,” said Gia. She took a deep breath, exhaled, and opened the bathroom door.

The gators were free from the toilet and the tub and on the floor. With her mind, she said,
Friends! Friends!

The gators scrambled at her with alarming speed, their jaws snapping.

Gia slammed the door. They heard two thuds on the other side as the gators hurled themselves against it.

“Okay, not friends,” she conceded.

“Noooo!!!!”
Fredo's voice came from the living room.

Bella and Gia found him, frozen, staring into the closet.

He was as white as Twinkie filling. “The money,” he gasped. “It's gone.”

“It's in the safe,” said Gia, but then she, too, saw the open door, and the stacks of cash gone.

Fredo reached inside. “Wait, there is something in the back.” He removed the item. “A jar of pickles?”

“Oh, shit,” said Gia.

Fredo shook the jar in Gia's face. “What does this mean?” he demanded.

“You see pickles and you automatically think I had something to do with it?”

Bella said, “Well, yeah.”

“You blame me, too?” asked Gia. “It was Ponzi. I sort of played a trick on him with a serrano pepper and pickle juice. I guess this is his way of getting me back.”

“Stealing sixty thousand dollars?”
yelled Fredo.

“I'll find him,” said Gia.

“First things first,” said Bella. “We have to do something about our bathroom infestation. We can't take them back to the moat, and we can't leave them here.”

“Why not?” asked Gia.

“Even you don't tip the housekeeper enough to clean up two alligators,” said Bella.

“If Violenti finds out we gatornapped his pets, he'll feed us to them,” said Fredo.

“We have to move them to a safe place where there are no cameras, and warm freshwater,” said Bella.

“I've got an idea,” said Gia.

“Not again,” said Fredo.

“I know the perfect place.”

“Bullshit.”

“Trust me. All we have to do is catch them and dump them. Catch and dump. Sounds like my last five boyfriends.”

Bella called room service
and ordered two raw steaks. While they waited, the girls got dressed in monokinis, bathrobes, and flip-flops.

Fredo threw on jeans and a polo and paced the suite muttering, “Sixty grand. Gone. Hopes, dreams, self-esteem. Stolen. I'd puke, but I'm afraid to go in the friggin' bathroom.”

“Use the minibar sink,” said Gia.

The three roomies rearranged the furniture into a makeshift gator chute leading from the bathroom door to Gia's open zebra-print hardshell suitcase. When room service arrived, they dropped the steaks inside as bait.

“I'm sad for zebes,” said Gia in mourning for her suitcase.

Bella said, “Think of it this way: Zebes must die so the gators can live. We know they're hungry, so they'll go right for the meat. I'm going to open the bathroom door. They move fast, so get ready. If they try to climb the furniture, nudge them back toward the suitcase.”

“Nudge them with what?” asked Fredo.

“Your foot,” said Bella.

“They'll bite it off!”

“Here we go, on three. One, two,
three
!”

Bella opened the door, and the gators were out in a flash.
Those little lizards could run! They scrambled right into Gia's suitcase.

“Close it!” yelled Bella.

Gia kicked the top closed and fell on the suitcase, latching it, capturing the gators inside. She jumped back onto the couch. Bella and Fredo plopped down on either side. The three of them stared at the suitcase as it rocked and thudded on the floor.

“I'm in shock that worked,” said Bella.

“Almost too easy,” said Gia. “Maybe they understood me when I said ‘friends.'”

“Onward to phase two, and hurry up,” said Fredo. “We have to find that prick Ponzi.”

Gia and Bella nodded at each other. Pulling out the handle of the suitcase, Bella turned it upright and tilted it onto its wheels. They went out the door of the suite and toward the elevator.

The girls stepped inside and pressed the button for the eleventh floor. A pair of blue-hairs with visors and ortho sneakers were already in the elevator.

“Pardon me, dear,” said one of the old ladies. “Your suitcase is shaking.”

Gia said, “My vibrator must have accidentally turned on.”

That pretty much killed the conversation. The girls got off and made a right to enter the spa at Nero's Palace.

“Can I help you?” asked the receptionist. A new girl. They didn't recognize her.

“We'd like to visit the sauna,” said Bella.

“Planning on moving in?” she asked, pointing at the suitcase.

Gia said, “I couldn't decide which outfit to put on after my shower, so I brought a few with me. I hope that's okay. I don't want to cause any trouble.”

Bella almost laughed out loud at that. If anyone, anywhere on the planet, caused trouble, it was Gia, whether she wanted to or not.

“I'll need your room keys to verify access to the spa,” said the receptionist.

They knew this was coming. They couldn't give their key, though. It'd leave an electronic record that they'd been there. Gia said, “Oh, shit! I forgot my card! I hate to go all the way back to my suite to get it. Tell you what. I'll just call my uncle Vito to vouch for me.”

“Uncle Vito?” The woman's eyes widened. “Vito Violenti?”

“Yeah, do you know him?” asked Gia, all sugar and smiles.

“No need to call him. Just be sure to tell your uncle what a nice time you had here today. The sauna is straight through the green-glass door and down the hall.”

“We know the way,” said Gia.

Fortunately, the place wasn't crowded. The busy hours were early morning and early evening. In the middle of the day, people were having lunch or at the beach. They weren't taking a nooner sauna.

“First left after the locker rooms,” said Gia.

Bella wheeled the case along behind her. It was hard to manage. The beasts inside were pretty heavy, plus they were doing somersaults in there. If not for her karate muscles, Bella might not be able to handle it.

“This is it,” said Gia.

Nero's Roman Baths included a Jacuzzi, a cold bath, and a near-scalding bath. When Bella and Gia had come earlier in the week, they'd tried the recommended cycle of dips, going from cold to hot, which caused an all-over tingly sensation. Sort of like when you ate too many corn dogs and went on a roller coaster, but sexy. Between the two still-water baths bubbled the gigantic Jacuzzi. Its temperature was what Bella imagined a Florida swamp to be. Maybe a little hotter.

“Think they'll boil?” asked Gia. “I really don't want to hurt them. They look like alien babies. Or giant pickles.”

“They're not babies,” said Bella. “They're fully grown pygmies. And they're not going to boil. We sat in the hot tub for an hour.”

“But we got pruney.”

“Gators don't prune,” said Bella.

“Says you.” Gia frowned. “I'm gonna kill Ponzi when we find him.”

“Same. Let's deliver this package first. Check the sauna.”

“No one here.” The baths were empty, as were the adjacent sauna and steam rooms.

Bella turned the suitcase on its side. “On three.”

“Why is it always three? On four,” said Gia. “Just to be different.”

“Yeah, we really need to change our routine since we dump kidnapped alligators into hot tubs all the freakin' time.”

“One, two, three,
four
!”

The cousins unlatched and opened the suitcase top and tilted it so the gators slid into the Jacuzzi. Gia checked inside the case. Critter scat was smeared all over the shredded lining.

The stench was suffocating. “Close it!” gasped Gia.

Bella kicked the lid closed and locked it. More evidence to destroy. Then they sat down on zebes, spent. The gators weren't immediately visible under all those bubbles. But every so often, eyes or nostrils rose to the surface.

“Should we wait, warn people?”

“Let's go. We'll report an anonymous gator sighting on the way out.”

Wheeling the empty case back down the hallway, they walked by a group of robed women, moms-on-a-bender suburban types, chatting with each other, carrying bottles of Orangina.

Gia whispered, “You don't think they're going to the hot tub, do you?”

“Hope not,” said Bella. “We can't risk it, though. Come on.”

Gia followed Bella, who made a U-turn right into the spa room. They had only a few seconds before the group came in.

“On four.”

Gia didn't think they had time to count that high. She gave her movie-quality bloodcurdling scream. Bella joined in as loud as she could, screeching as if she'd seen a werewolf, or a zombie. The crowd of ladies came running in. Gia and Bella frantically pointed at the bubbling tub, babbling about sea monsters and dragons. The ladies peered into the Jacuzzi, shouting and pushing to get a look.

The receptionist came running in. Just at that moment, one of the gators swam to the surface and snapped in the ladies' direction. They all started howling.

Bella said to Gia, “Now we leave.”

They hustled the hell out of there, suitcase trailing behind them. “I hope none of those ladies get bit on the foot,” said Bella.

“Just think about it,” said Gia. “No big toe, no flip-flops.”

“That would suck.”

Fredo didn't really care
if the gators lived or died. He just wanted his money back. He'd counted and caressed the stacks just last night, before they went to the casino. And now, nothing. That cash was going to buy the respect of his father and jump-start his next venture, which was sure to be a huge hit. He hadn't a clue what that venture would be. But he was due—way past due—for success. But the grifter stole his chance out from under him.

Under him
. The phrase made Fredo think of a particularly breathtaking moment with Erin.

“I'm the biggest asshole in the world,” he cried to the empty room. Cringing, he remembered flashes from last night, but only the parts he wished he could forget. He'd yelled at Erin after he and Gia lost at roulette. No excuse for that. He'd let his frustration take over. It'd serve him right if she never spoke to him again.

He found his phone among the pieces of lingerie on his bed—he had a vague memory of measuring his chest against the girls' bra sizes—and called her number, intending to beg forgiveness.

“Hello?” asked an unfamiliar female voice.

“I'm looking for Erin Gobraugh.”

“I'm sorry. She left Nero's and had to turn in her company phone. Her calls have been forwarded to my line.”

“Left?”

“That's a euphemism.”

Erin got fired? The day just got worse and worse. “And who are you?”

“Customer service,” the woman said. “Is there anything I can help you with today?”

“Yeah, tell me where I can find Erin.”

“Even if I knew, I wouldn't be able to tell you that, sir.”

He hung up.

Did his rude behavior have anything to do with her getting fired? God, he hoped not. Fredo checked his phone again, to see if he had a message or another number for her. Nothing. She was the first woman he'd been able to relax with, get naked with, and he lost her after one day.
Pathetic
.

A knock on the door.

“Ginger Snap?” asked Fredo, picturing Erin on the other side. She'd come back to him!

He flung the door open. A mushy-faced dude with a barrel chest in a shark suit and a dead raccoon on his head asked, “Mr. Fredo Lupo?”

“I guess.”

“I'm Vito Violenti, the hotel and casino capo. May I come in?”

So this was the gator banger, the guy who made crooked gamers and dealers disappear. “I'm kinda busy right now,” Fredo said, knees knocking.

“Just a few minutes of your time,” said Mr. Violenti, pushing his way into the suite. “These are my associates.”

His associates—twin no-neck goons—had been lurking in the hallway. The room got a lot smaller when they came in. The overgrown juiceheads had massive upper bodies and (probably) shriveled raisins for balls. Fredo got a black eye just looking at them. They stood behind Mr. Violenti with their bulging arms dangling—too big to cross.

Mr. Violenti found and picked up the TV remote. “I'd like to show you something.”

“You're not my type,” said Fredo.

“Funny guy? Good. What I'm gonna show you is frickin' hysterical.” The casino boss turned on the TV and used a security code to access a blank channel. A picture came on-screen, a view of the Roman Baths. A gaggle of dumpy women were clustered by the hot tub, staring at the Jacuzzi and weeping. While Fredo watched, something floated to the surface of the water, jaw snapping. The women screamed and drew back. Five heavily armed guards burst into the room and hustled the women out. A maintenance crew with a cart of cleaning equipment filed in. Then, two uniformed men with metal poles and cages.

“They'll have to close the spa for the day to drain and scrub the hot tub,” said Mr. Violenti. “The hotel will have to compensate those poor women for the emotional trauma. Animal control needs to be paid off. I'll get fines from the city for reckless endangerment. Plus veterinary bills to examine and treat the gators. Also repairs to fix the damage to the railing around the moat.”