The Resurrectionist Page 10

  There were no movies on that Sarah either hadn’t seen or could stomach. As much as she wanted to feel girly and feminine and lose herself in something mindless, she just could not stomach another girl-from-the-wrong-side-of-the-tracks-meets-perfect-rich-gentleman movie. She had her limits. Finally, she settled on a nature documentary about the migration of gray whales. Not what she had in mind but the sound of the ocean and the whale calls were strangely soothing.

  She had almost fallen asleep when there was a knock at the door. Sarah’s pulse rate shot up and it suddenly became difficult to breath. She scrambled off the bed, groping for her purse and the loaded .40-caliber pistol inside it.

  Sarah’s hands shook as she removed the semiautomatic pistol from her bag, jacked a round into the chamber, cocking it as she walked toward the door.

  “Who is it?”

  “Room service.”

  “Just leave it outside the door.”

  “Um…I need you to sign for it.”

  Sarah let out a low moan. There was no peephole in the door. She would have to open it to see who was on the other side. She put the chain on the door and put the barrel of the gun against the door as she slid it open, prepared to pull the trigger if it was Dale. She could hear her own heart hammering in her ears.

  A young Latino man stood on the other side of the door wearing a red jacket and pushing a cart with a silver tray on it that held her ice cream and cake. She flipped the chain off the door and hid the pistol behind her back.

  “Sorry, come on in.”

  She opened the door and stepped aside so the waiter could wheel in her dessert.

  “Anything else, ma’am?” the waiter asked as he handed her the bill.

  Sarah paused and placed her gun on the nightstand, then walked over and took the bill from the waiter. She signed for it and scribbled a generous tip at the bottom, then handed it back. The waiter stole a quick glance at the gun, smiled, then began backing out of the room.

  “Thank you. You have a nice night, ma’am.”

  Sarah smiled back and followed him to the door, closing it behind him and reengaging the chain lock. After pushing the cart up to the bed, she plopped back down on the bed to eat cake and ice cream and watch gray whales migrate.

  Less than an hour went by before she’d had enough. Sarah was bored. She decided to go downstairs to the casino and gamble a bit. She loved playing slot machines but usually resisted the urge. Gambling was a bad hobby to get into when you lived in Las Vegas. She had known more than one friend who’d moved to the city and then had to move back home after a few months of losing their entire paychecks to slot machines and video poker. Maybe she’d play blackjack instead. She wondered if Josh would be surprised or embarrassed or both if she was to sit down at his table to play. She wasn’t sure whether it was legal to play at her husband’s table. It might break some sort of federal gaming laws. She decided not to risk it. She could always play at the table next to him. That might even be more fun, she thought. It would drive him crazy to see her there.

  Sarah stood up and started getting dressed. She considered wearing a miniskirt with no panties but was just not in the mood to call sexual attention to herself. She had the irrational fear that even there in the casino Dale might still be watching her. She couldn’t stand the idea of him staring at her from across the casino and getting aroused. Right now, the idea of anyone getting aroused by her felt creepy, scary.

  Instead of the miniskirt she picked up a pair of sweat-pants and slid on some flip-flops. She pulled Josh’s favorite college T-shirt on over her head. She looked about as unsexy as could be. She decided to at least do her hair and makeup.

  She grabbed her makeup bag and pulled out lipstick, blush, mascara, and eye shadow. She sprayed a little too much perfume on her neck, then wiped it off with her hand and rubbed it between her breasts and onto her thighs. Sarah laughed at herself. For someone with no interest in having sex she was acting like she were getting ready for a booty call.

  Her lipstick was a light pink from M-A-C Cosmetics called “Barely Legal.” She rubbed it on her lips, then puckered in the mirror. She brushed out her long eyelashes until they were fluffy and thick and gave her eyes a sultry sleepy look. She added a dark shimmering plum eye shadow and outlined her eyes with a thick eyeliner that further darkened her eyes.

  Sarah smiled. Even in sweatpants and a T-shirt she still looked fuckable. Her smile faltered as she once again thought about Dale. For a second she even considered wiping off all the makeup. She shook it off.

  I’m not going to let that son of a bitch turn me into some homely spinster.

  The gun still sat on the nightstand and Sarah looked at it for a long moment, trying to decide before she picked it up and popped it into her Coach purse. She grabbed her hotel key and walked out the door, making sure she closed it firmly behind her before she walked off toward the elevator.

  As Sarah made her way down the hall to the elevator a man stepped out of his room just as she passed his door and Sarah jumped and groped for her purse, trying to open it and get at her gun. Just as she realized that he was no threat, just a guy heading down to the casino, she also realized that, had he been Dale or some other rapist, he would have been all over her before she could have gotten to her pistol. It made her feel a lot less secure and made the ride down to the elevator a lot more tense and terrifying. Sarah had her hand in her purse the entire time with her finger lightly touching the trigger guard. When the man smiled at her she almost pulled the trigger.

  The Hollywood Galaxy Casino was one of the newest hotel/casinos on the strip. It had pictures and memorabilia of famous Hollywood and recording stars all over the walls and in glass cases placed strategically throughout the casino. There were statues dressed in clothes almost as famous as the stars who had originally worn them. Clark Gable’s clothes from Gone With the Wind, Jim Carrey’s clothes from The Mask, Wesley Snipe’s costume from the Blade movies, the original Batman costume, a few outfits from Madonna, Cher, Michael Jackson, Prince, LL Cool J, Run DMC, Metallica, Nirvana, Kiss, The Doors, and countless others.

  Sarah hadn’t been in the casino for months and she found herself walking around like a tourist, staring wide-eyed at the photos of old Motown stars and eighties heavy-metal hair bands. The casino wasn’t as full as she remembered from the last time she’d been there. There were almost as many locals as tourists, which was a bad sign for a casino on Las Vegas Boulevard whose main trade were the steady tide of out-of-town guests who came here to blow off steam, get drunk, gamble, patronize the many strip clubs on Industrial Avenue just one block over from Las Vegas Boulevard and the even more numerous call girls and prostitutes who lined the hotel bars after midnight. Sarah wondered how the prostitution trade was faring during the recession. Had they likewise discounted their services like every other retail industry? Were they now giving two-for-one hand jobs and blow jobs? Fifty percent off on anal with a free golden shower?

  Sarah chuckled as she wound her way through the casino. The idea of discount pussy was just hilarious to her. She wondered why anyone would have bothered raping her when they could have had a professional willing to do whatever they wanted for a negotiable fee.

  She glanced over at the bar where a few prostitutes had already begun to congregate in their skintight party dresses cut down to their navels. A couple of middleaged conventioneers were already mingling among them. The girls cast angry glances at her as she passed, which caused her to laugh harder. Of all the companies going bankrupt, the world’s oldest profession would definitely not be one of them. Business was slow but steady, at least in this casino.

  There were blackjack dealers standing at empty tables and row after row of empty slot machines. Empty craps tables, poker tables, and roulette wheels gave the casino an almost abandoned look despite the fact that there were still a couple hundred gamblers on the casino floor. It was just a few hundred fewer than one would have expected.

  It didn’t take Sarah long to spot her husband. He
was standing alone at one of the empty tables. Next to him a withered and wrinkled Asian woman who looked nearly a century old sat alone playing cards, just her and the dealer, a tall blonde in her early to midforties who looked like she had probably been stunning in her youth. She looked like an aging showgirl. Sarah decided to join them at the table.

  As she walked up to the dealer’s pit, Josh turned to her and smiled wide, obviously happy to see her. His smile widened further when he noticed that she was wearing his T-shirt. Sarah smiled back politely, then took a seat at the table adjacent to his, next to the old Asian woman.

  “Hello, mind if I play?”

  Josh’s smile widened and he almost laughed as she pretended not to know him. The man Sarah had ridden the elevator down with took a seat at Josh’s table. Sarah had an irrational moment of fear where she suspected he might have been following her. Then she saw Josh greet him with obvious recognition and realized that he must have been a regular.

  Sarah reached into her purse and took out the money Josh had left her with. Two hundred dollars. Josh had intended it to be her spending money for the next three days or so. She hoped that she wouldn’t lose it all on the first night.

  “Uh…I need to buy some chips.”

  A cashier arrived within moments to relieve her of her cash in exchange for little hard circular pieces of plastic in three different colors stamped with the Hollywood Galaxy Casino logo.

  “Thank you.”

  Sarah pulled out a yellow chip and tossed it on the table. She was ashamed to admit that even being the wife of a dealer she knew very little about the game. She preferred slot machines. She wasn’t even sure how much the yellow chips were worth. She hoped that she hadn’t just bet fifty bucks on the first hand.

  Sarah barely paid attention to the game. She preferred to watch Josh work. He and the man from the elevator were laughing and joking as the man played one hand after another, then lost it all, then won again, then lost again. Occasionally, Josh would stare over at Sarah and Sarah would stare back at him as if they were strangers flirting across a crowded room, trying to gain the courage to approach each other.

  The man at Josh’s table was tipping heavily whenever he won and Sarah found herself wishing he’d keep winning and keep tipping but inevitably he’d lose all his money to the house. They all did. No one built a multimillion-dollar casino to make other people rich. She’d heard a statistic once that 85 percent of the people who gambled in casinos won but only 13 percent actually left the casino with their winnings. The rest gambled it all away, giving it right back to the casino and usually with interest. The casinos knew this and that’s why they made sure to keep you there as long as possible.

  There were no clocks and no windows in the casinos. Nothing to give customers any indication of how long they had been sitting at the poker tables or blackjack tables or slot machines. As long as you were playing the drinks were free. And cocktail waitresses came by three or four times an hour to make sure you had everything you needed, making sure that there was never any need for you to leave the casino. The waitress had already come by her table three times and she was starting to feel a bit of a buzz from her third glass of chardonnay. They were not supposed to let you gamble if you were drunk but, as long as a customer didn’t actually pass out at the table and as long as you continued to gamble, the drinks usually kept flowing. There was even a famous rumor that the casinos pumped pure oxygen into the casino to keep you awake. As far as she knew it was just a rumor but she wouldn’t have been surprised.

  You could cash your paycheck at the casino and they would even give you a free roll of quarters if you did as a sort of incentive, not just to cash your check there but to stay and gamble. You could even take a loan out against your house right there at the cashier’s window inside the casino. Sarah wondered if perhaps the psychology of the compulsive gambler might have made a better subject for her dissertation. At least gamblers didn’t freak her out the way porn and just about anything sexual had begun to disturb her.

  Sarah was starting to lose too much money and she was drinking a bit more than usual, feeling quite good but aware of how easily it could turn bad with just a few more drinks. She stood up and gathered what chips she had left. Smiling at the Asian woman, and leaving a twenty-dollar chip for the dealer as a tip, she walked over to the cashier’s booth to cash in her chips.

  She’d started with $200. After a dizzying series of wins and losses that she had just barely paid attention to, she’d come away from the table more than a hundred dollars short. She hoped that the man from the elevator started to win again soon. In addition to the gun and the alarm system, Josh would now have to make an extra hundred dollars to cover the money she’d lost. But Josh had always forgiven her recklessness. Her daring was a quality he lacked and had always admired her for. From the beginning of their relationship he’d always said that he found her wild spirit to be one of her most attractive features second only to her breasts. But with all the money she’d been spending lately, her breasts were going to have to pick up some of the slack.

  Sarah took the eighty-two dollars she had left after playing blackjack and cashed them in for quarters. She took her bucket of quarters and sat down at a row of slot machines. She sat down at the machine at the very end so that she was still in sight of Josh. As she pumped quarters into the machine, she watched the other patrons. Most of them were elderly retirees gambling their life savings, their social security checks, the equity in their homes, all in hopes of hitting it big. There was a smattering of young couples and young singles but they were few and far between.

  A young Mexican woman sat on her boyfriend’s lap feeding quarters into the machine and pulling the lever. The hopeful expression on her face each time she plopped in a quarter was as if she expected each one to hit the jackpot. She was barely old enough to be in the casino. Her breasts were even larger and more perfect than Sarah’s. She had long, thin, muscular legs sticking out from beneath a tight plaid miniskirt. Thin, muscular arms like a dancer. A gorgeous body except for a stomach that bugled out over the top of her skirt, giving her a muffin top.

  Her boyfriend looked to be almost twice her age. He was in his early thirties and wore a clean white polo shirt, plaid Carhartt pants, and black leather loafers with white socks. He had tattoos on his hands, arms, and neck. His eyes were completely dead. He showed no interest at all in either the slot machine or the woman on his lap. When he turned and looked at Sarah, no doubt wondering why she was staring at him, she felt as if she were looking into the cold black eyes of a great white shark. Sarah smiled weakly and turned back to her own machine.

  Sarah was nearly down to her last ten dollars when the lights went crazy on her machine and a siren went off. She had hit the jackpot. More than $2,000 in quarters poured out of the machine. Sarah started clapping and jumping up and down, screaming as silver coins rained from the machine. She collected herself just in time to shove a bucket under the tray. One of the cocktail waitresses came and brought her more buckets. The Mexican couple sitting just a few machines away were staring at her now. The young woman looked happy and excited. Her boyfriend was just staring with those dead eyes. Sarah was happy she would not have to leave the casino. She would have been terrified that the man might have followed her out into the parking lot. She scolded herself for stereotyping but the tattoos on his neck certainly looked like gang tattoos to her, not that she was an expert on such things.

  The waitress helped Sarah carry her buckets over to the cashier. Sarah could not get the grin off her face as she watched the cashier dump her quarters into a counter and then slowly count out $2,500 in hundred-dollar bills. When Sarah turned around, stuffing her cash into her purse, Josh was standing behind her.

  “It looks like you made out better than I did tonight. I only had about half a dozen customers during my whole shift. I made about a hundred and twenty bucks.”

  Sarah opened her purse and showed Josh the fat wad of hundreds.

  “Well,
I made enough for both of us.”

  “That’s beautiful. I guess that pays for the Sig Sauer.”

  “And the alarm system!” Sarah beamed.

  “And a few drinks at the martini bar?”

  “Oh, definitely.”

  Sarah was smiling from ear to ear. It was the happiest she’d been in days and after a few drinks she was going to feel a whole lot happier.

  Josh ordered something called a macho martini, which contained Red Bull. Sarah sat next to him on a plush blue velvet couch sipping a pomegranate martini. There was a band playing jazz versions of R&B songs. Sarah sat back and relaxed to a slow sax-driven cover of Smokey Robinson’s “Tears of a Clown,” letting the music and alcohol slowly take her away. She could feel her muscles unwinding, the tendons in her neck and shoulders unknotting, all of her tension and fear slipping away. Even when the saxophonist attempted a sloppy, amateurish cover of a Miles Davis tune and then an even worse John Coltrane cover, it didn’t bother Sarah at all.

  “He should be shot for that,” Josh whispered.

  “Shhhh,” Sarah replied with her eyes still closed. She threaded her arm through Josh’s and pulled him close, snuggling up against him.

  Sarah ordered a watermelon martini and then a sour apple martini and then something called a love martini, which had strawberries cut into the shape of hearts. Josh was still sipping his first martini when Sarah gulped down her fourth and began nibbling on the strawberries at the bottom of the glass.

  “I guess you needed that, huh?”

  Josh kissed her on the neck and his warm breath traveled up behind her ear sending a pleasant tingle down her spine. Sarah giggled, then turned and kissed him, tasting the bizarre combination of vodka, vermouth, and Red Bull on his tongue. It really wasn’t as bad as it sounded. She scooped a strawberry out of her glass and slid it into his mouth. She was going through all the motions, just as she normally would, but she felt none of the usual stirrings, none of the usual desire. She felt the love for her husband. But instead of wanting to break bedsprings, all she wanted was to be held and kissed and told how beautiful she was. She wondered if she was becoming like all the other wives whose sex drives were murdered by those two magical words: I do. Only hers was destroyed by a knife and an oily little uncircumcised penis. She shook the memory from her mind and hugged Josh tighter. She was enjoying herself too much to let those disturbing images invade her mind and ruin her night.