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Tired of navigating the human traffic and the groups of guys snapping cards with hookers’ numbers on them at her, Beth hailed a cab but didn’t return to the Golden Nugget. She got the driver to take her up the Strip towards the Luxor, but asked to be dropped at the MGM Grand. She would lose herself in the people there, where she could feel relatively safe, and decide what to do.
She left the glare of the sun and, for a moment, couldn’t see as she entered the subdued bustle around the rows of jabbering machines. A few dowdy waitresses ferried trays of drinks to gamblers who barely glanced up, and the whole place had a burnt-out feel. There was something unsettling about the people feeding dollar bills into the slots, almost as if it were a joyless, robotic compulsion.
Feeling dizzy, Beth walked unsteadily and glanced the faces passing by. She recognised a set of features there and stumbled back, walking onto the bare, sandaled toes of a man behind her.
“Jesus!” He sounded British.
She turned to look at him and apologised. There was pain on the pockmarked features above her, and his rigid smile said it was OK but not really. Had she seen the gunman watching her? As she scrutinised the crowd there wasn’t any trace of him, no face she could have mistaken for his. Had her drowsy mind inserted him amongst them?
He could easily have slipped back into the crowd. If it had been him, why wait before pulling the trigger? Perhaps his barrel was trained on her right now.
Beth spun round, feeling suddenly exposed.
“Ma’am?” It was the voice of a black, thickset security guard.
She couldn’t work out if he was concerned for her well-being or considering escorting her off the premises. He’d obviously reacted to the mini disturbance she’d made. “I’m fine.” But even though she knew it made no odds to the gunman, she was glad of his presence at her side. “Just feeling a bit sick.” She wasn’t lying. Oh God, not here, not now. She vomited onto the carpet and several passing pensioners leapt out of the way as if she were a terrorist. Beth braced herself for another wave, her hands gripping her knees. She felt the security guard’s fingers gently skim her back.
“She’s OK,” he reassured the crowds. “You OK, ma’am? Don’t worry. We’ll have someone right along to clean that up.”
She threw up again onto the patterned carpet. Through the moisture in her eyes, it actually seemed to blend in.
