47

Shaine pocketed her phone and tried to take in the cacophony of the casino floor. Slot machines rang their electronic siren call, crowds of Midwestern tourists urged one another into spending more money at the roulette wheel. The employees outnumbered the guests, between dealers, pit bosses, cocktail waitresses, busboys, valets and bellhops, all swirling around her in a race to land the one-dollar tip cupped in every guest’s hand.

The carpet practically buzzed with a dark diamond-and-swirl pattern that made her dizzy, the smell of shrimp cocktail and disinfectant mingling in the air. A fake stream ran through the lobby, choked with the coins of a thousand people making good luck wishes. Shaine saw a fish floating belly-up above the penny-strewn bottom.

Shaine sought refuge against a low wall crawling with fake ivy. She searched the wall for a clock to keep track of how long she was waiting for Lars but found none.

“Hey, girlie, you lose someone?”

She turned to see two men, mid-thirties and tight on mixed drinks before noon, on the other side of the wall, in a lounge called the Bella Notte. Half-empty tumblers sloshed, one in each of their hands. The men used the drinks to gesture around the casino floor.

“You lookin’ for a friend?” asked the one in the green tie. Lapel pins named him Brian and his partner Duane. The badge indicated they both came to town for the Consumer Electronics Show and were a long way from home. Tiny breaks in the golf course tans on each left hand indicated they had left their wedding rings back at the room.

“No one should be alone in Vegas,” Brian said.

“Friendliest town in America,” Duane added.

Shaine knew they must be desperate if they looked twice at her. Maybe the booze limited their vision or maybe there was only one day left on the convention and it was time to throw a Hail Mary. Whatever the reason, she blushed, somewhat flattered that older guys would flirt with her, and she saw comfort in numbers. If she stayed wrapped up talking to them, she might blend in better and avoid whatever had Lars so spooked.

“I’m waiting for someone,” she said, friendly.

Brian smiled. “Well, don’t wait alone. Come, come. Sit.” He gestured with the glass, guiding her around the low wall and into the lounge. Duane grinned like a salesman.

“Yes, join us . . . um . . . ?”

“Shaine.”

“Shaine. Come. Don’t make us watch you suffer out there all alone.”

Shaine rounded the vine-covered wall and entered the Bella Notte. Up close now, Duane’s radar went off.

“How old are you anyway?”

“Eighteen,” she lied.

Brian lit up. “Eighteen. Is there a more beautiful number?”

Duane nodded in agreement.