On my way across the hotel I’m stopped by my pit boss. “How’s it going this afternoon?” I ask him.
“Not bad, sir. The blonde at table eight has maxed out her credit card and seems to be out of luck. She keeps asking if the house will extend her credit.”
I shake my head. I feel for people who think if they play just one more hand, their luck will change. “Call Gillian and have her come down and sit with the woman. See what’s going on. If she needs a job, we can try to move her into a cocktail waitress gig, or if she’d prefer, we can recommend her to one of the restaurants or stores on The Boardwalk.”
“Thank you, sir. I’ll make the call.”
I make money when people lose, but for some, walking away is really tough. I want my guests to have fun, not look for a high building and jump.
When Caden and I arrive at Queen Diva’s dressing room, Travis is waiting for me. “You didn’t go in?”
He shakes his head. “No way. She’s mad as a hornet.”
We turn, bracing ourselves for the impending barrage. Caden stays at the door. Pussy. This is going to be ugly.
“Do you know why she’s upset?” I say in a low voice.
“Nope. I just heard her ranting and raving, and her assistant ran down the hall, muttering to herself.”
“Don’t worry too much about the assistant. She’s paid about what you are.”
He lifts an eyebrow.
“I insisted on that in the contract. It comes out of Queen’s profits, but she’s on our payroll.”
“I’m not sure that’s enough,” Travis says.
“All right, let’s put our big boy pants on.” I take a deep breath and open the door. “Hello, Queen. What can I do for you today?”
Her husband gives me a grateful look, probably glad I’m moving into the hot seat now.
“The dress from my first act is now missing.”
I notice Travis fingering a jump drive. “When was the last time you saw the dress?” I ask her.
“When I took it off during my costume change at last night’s show.”
I prepare for the verbal assault, and as it begins, I hold up my hand. “We have a duplicate already made. This isn’t catastrophic. And let’s not notify the media. This gets out and people will be climbing the walls to get at your costumes.”
She looks horrified and turns to her husband. “You caused this mess. You were the one that thought letting the media know what happened would prevent it from happening again, and now another dress is missing. We may have multiple thieves, you clueless son of a bitch.”
He’s a broken man, but that was my concern when he decided to alert the tabloids.
“Well, there’s nothing we can do to change that now,” I tell Queen. “But let’s not add any more fuel to the fire, okay?”
She nods, and turns her ire back to me. “What are you doing to protect our investment?”
Travis steps forward. “We’ve watched the video from the camera outside your room for the past few weeks. We’ve noted the people coming and going and even followed a few through the hotel to see if the dress can be seen, but we’re not having any luck.” He hands her the jump drive. “Everything is on here. You’re welcome to see if something looks suspicious to you. My team was looking for the dress, but you may find someone who wasn’t supposed to be in your dressing room that we don’t know.”
She takes the drive and hands it to her husband. “You can watch this.”
He nods.
“Make sure everyone entering and exiting your room was allowed to be there so we can be more precise in our search. And just to confirm, the dress you wear in your first act is the same one on all the promotion materials and billboards, correct?” Travis asks.
She nods. “Yes, that’s the dress.” She reaches for a picture. “Here is a complete view. It’s my heaviest dress—weighs over fifteen pounds. It would be difficult to stuff it under your arm and not be noticed.”
Travis nods. “I agree. That’s very helpful. Anything else you can think of?”
“Yes, I want one of your security guards in the room when I’m not here.”
I blanch at the thought. Paying someone to be here constantly would be a colossal waste of time, talent, and money.
“I may have another solution,” Travis says. “But I’ll have Kian from my team come down until we can iron out the details.”
She seems happy, and that will make a difference. I’m equally frustrated that the dresses are missing, but I think it’s an inside job, and I’m not about to do marriage counseling.
After we leave, Travis says, “Kian can sit there, but rather than leaving her costumes on the rack in her room, we should have one of her costumers come to a specific location where they’re locked away and covered. With a security escort, they can be moved—at least until we discover why her husband is stealing the gowns.”
I nod. “That’s who I think it is, too. Can you prove it?”
“Nope. But he’s pretty shifty, if you ask me.”
“Agreed. Keep me posted.”
******
After an eighteen-hour day, I fall into bed and realize I never reached out to Maggie. I can’t wait another day.
Me: I miss you. If you don’t talk to me, I’m going to show up at your house and make Hazel let me in.
Maggie: I’m here. I’m sorry.
Me: I’m calling. Please answer the phone.
I send my text and immediately call.
Maggie picks up the phone but doesn’t say anything.
“Are you there?” I ask.
“Yes.” I hear her sigh. “I miss you, too. I don’t have a lot of friends, you know.”
“Then why aren’t you talking to me?”
“Because I already know what you’re going to say.”
“Take me through it. I want to understand everything.”
“You know my family’s expectations—business first, family second. My grandfather’s will lays it out. I’ve always known that. I just never realized it was going to affect me so personally.” She runs me through the details of her father’s will and the bombs that dropped at the reading.
“It’s ridiculous that you have to be married, but especially to Alex. He doesn’t even like women. Why does your mother care who it is?”
“My mother and Alex’s father want an Elite Electronics in every Bullseye. It’s an extra bonus for the future of both companies.”
“This makes no fucking sense. You’re a human being.” I’m holding the phone so tight my hand hurts.
She’s silent a moment.
“You know you can put Elite in the stores without marrying Alex.”
“Maybe, but my mother is requiring the marriage, and I have no doubt she’ll challenge things with the executor if I don’t do what she wants. I have to be married before I take charge, or we have to dissolve the company. It’s a smart business decision.”
“You have two brothers,” I point out. She sounds like she’s been brainwashed.
“I do, but Christopher is emancipated, and Stevie is uninterested and unqualified. I’m the only one left to fight for my family legacy—the only one who cares that Reinhardt Hudson’s and Bullseye continue to exist, because they’re what fund the Foundation that I love, and they represent generations of work that I’m not willing to walk away from. You don’t get it. I can’t walk away.” Her voice begins to crack. “If we dissolve the company, that means over five hundred thousand people don’t have jobs, can’t feed themselves, and can’t pay their bills. What choice do I have?”