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I'm pleased to provide you with an excerpt
of my next work-in-progress, tentatively titled "Burning Questions".
Enjoy!
Barrie
Unedited
excerpt from "Burning Questions", © 2007 Barrie Abalard. All
rights
reserved.
It all started the night
my boss and I
surprised each other while engaged in the same sneaky getaway on the
fifteenth
floor of the Shooting Stars Casino and Hotel.
I really wished I
hadn’t locked Neil
Peltonen’s door behind me while I stammered out a
“Hi, there,” to my boss, the
very married Richard-don’t-ever-call-me-Dick Freeman, Shift
Manager. I’d bet a
tall stack of hundred-dollar chips that his wife wasn’t the
woman sleeping in
the room he’d just left.
“Jessica,”
he’d said with a curt nod as
he’d walked past me, tall and confident, toward the elevators.
Being a Vegas resident
who works in a
casino, I’d immediately begun considering whether there were
any angles I could
play. Seeing my boss come out of another woman’s room at five
in the morning
wasn’t something he’d want his wife to know. Maybe
I could use the information
in some way.
Then I’d
realized I’d been considering
blackmail. That’s simply not who I am, but in Vegas,
it’s easy to get carried
away with the predominant mindset of “playing all the
angles”.
My reluctant steps had
brought me to
the elevator bank. I’d resisted the urge to make inane
conversation with Mr.
Freeman. I’d been certain we didn’t need to discuss
the weather or baseball or
the new show at the Mirage.
Where the hell is the
elevator?
About that time,
I’d remembered that
I’d just emerged, glowing with sexual health, from a
guest’s room at the
hotel-casino complex where I dealt poker five nights a week. My job
would have
been history if he’d decided to enforce the “no
fraternizing” rule.
My boss smiled at me,
with teeth.
Apparently he’d just remembered the same thing.
“How’d
your shift go?” he said as we
stepped into the elevator.
I’d stayed
cool, shrugging and saying,
“Nothing out of the ordinary.” But the entire time
I’d been praying that
someone else would board the frickin’ elevator to save me
before I stuffed my
size sevens in my mouth. I’m rather prone to saying stupid
things to my boss.
Like the time
I’d revealed that I never
did finish that college degree listed on my resume. In my defense, I
was fairly
drunk at the casino’s holiday party when it happened.
Besides, I’d been only
two courses from graduating, so, it was close enough to list, right?
Yeah, right.
I’d made a bonehead move,
not to mention dishonest. And I’d been an idiot to get loaded
at a company
affair, let alone talk to Dick Freeman while I was full of booze. That
night,
my long-time buddy, Brad, had dragged me off before I’d said
anything more.
In the elevator, though,
I’d kept my
mouth shut. The two of us, shift manager and lowly dealer, waited while
we
descended, an elevator-music version of some old Billy Joel song our
accompaniment. I still can’t remember which song it was.
Brad’s the one who
likes Seventies music, not me. I’m strictly a Tony Bennett
kind of gal. Classic
suits me.
When we reached the
lobby level, I
hurried off, waving to a nonexistent friend, before my boss could ask
me
anything. Or before I could blab anything. Then I walked a loop through
the
pits before heading for my car, the better to give Freeman a chance to
leave—and walked straight into Brad.
“Geez, why are
you still here? Your
shift ended hours ago,” I said.
“Frank asked
me to work a few extra
hours because Josh called in sick. Then Jim came in early, so
I’m going home.
How about you?”
The tips of
Brad’s ears turn red when
he’s embarrassed or lying. I stared at them, but they never
turned even
slightly pink.
“Oh,”
I said, “I, um, decided to hang
out with Sin. But she went home early because she didn’t feel
good, and, well,
here I am, ready to go home, too.”
He raked his glance up
and down me.
“Bullshit. You seem a lot more relaxed than you’ve
been in a while. And you’ve
got your tank top on backwards.”
Busted. Hell.
“At least tell
me the truth. We’ve
never lied to each other about sex. Why start now? This guy special, or
something?”
I shook my head.
“Not really. Just a
one-time deal. And, if you don’t mind, I’d like to
go home and get some sleep
before I come back here for my shift.”
“Hi,
honey.” A red-headed beauty with eyes
the color of smoke approached. She wound her arm through
Brad’s possessively.
“Who’s this?”
Now
his ears were red. The
bastard had lied to me.
“Madison, meet
my long-time friend,
Jessica. Jess, this is Madison.” He cleared his throat, his
eyes pleading that
I not say anything about our embarrassing encounter of the night
before, when
we’d tried to make our friendship something more than that.
He’s my buddy,
so I stuck my hand out.
“Hi, Madison, it’s nice to meet you. Brad mentioned
that you work in casino
gaming software.”
What the hell is she
doing in a casino
at five a.m. on a Thursday?
She took my outstretched
hand. Her grip
was firm. “Nice to meet you, too. Brad told me
you’ve known each other since
preschool, or something.”
“That’s
right.” I started to edge away.
“Well, I have to work again in a few hours, and need some
sleep. I’d better
run.”
She stuck out her lower
lip in a
mock-pout. “I was hoping we could all have breakfast
together. I’m always
famished after—” She smiled up at Brad.
Tending bar because
Josh
called in
sick, my ass. But why the hell did they do it here, at the hotel? Brad
has a
nice place.
He made a show of
checking his watch.
“We’d better be running along. I have to work
tonight, too. See you later,
Jess.”
I moved away quickly,
Madison’s “nice
to meet you” echoing in my head.
Traffic on the Strip was
more horrible
than usual. Not that I usually commute home at dawn. I dragged myself
through
my condo’s front door, flopping on the couch. I was too tired
to consider why
Brad had screwed Madison in a hotel room. I needed sleep.
When I woke up, it was
nearly one p.m.
I stumbled around, making a pot of strong coffee, eating buttered
toast, and
taking a quick shower.
About a half-hour before
I left for work, the doorbell rang. When I opened it, the most
exquisite
arrangement of birds of paradise that I’d ever seen was in a
delivery man's hands. The
florist’s card said,
“What an exotic beauty you are. Neil.”
At the time, I was
impressed that a
one-night stand had sent me fancy flowers. If I’d have
been thinking
straight, the hairs on the back of my neck should have stood up.
Because I’d
never told him where I lived.
Unedited
excerpt from "Burning Questions", © 2007 Barrie Abalard. All
rights
reserved.
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