Chapter Four
I’ve never been to Vegas. And I’ve never been to a casino. Looking around, I have no idea if The Gold Rush is a refined gambling hall or a slum. What I do know is it’s a mess.
The doorway spits us out into a huge main room. Stairways sweep up both sides until they become balconies that run the length of the room. I can see doorways branching off, but then my gaze flickers back to the floor. Slot machines create a maze that winds towards a bar at the back. The walls are mirrored, but have been shattered into jagged shards that distort our reflection. The ground is covered by luxurious green carpet, but it’s filthy and coated with fragments of glass, dirt and debris that’s blown in through the opened doorway. A vending machine lies on its side, blocking most of the left-hand staircase. It’s been raided, first for the food and then later for cash, judging by the way the metal casing has been twisted and warped.
“Home sweet home,” Lt. Graham says, coming up to stand beside me. He has Millie tucked firmly under one arm. Wise move. Her eyes are wide a saucers and I know she’s itching to go exploring.
“Are we staying here?” I ask.
“For a little bit,” Lt. Graham replies, his attention not on me but sweeping up along the balconies. “We’ll get you girls established in one of the bedrooms; give you a chance to rest up.”
Get us out of the way, he means, only he’s too nice to say it. I pout, not liking being kept out of the loop but knowing it’s pointless complaining. Besides, if I’m honest with myself, resting up would be good. My feet are aching, my muscles hurt from head to toe, and where I’ve burned my shoulders the skin is so tight it feels like it’s going to split.
“Smith,” he calls, and Kyle instantly turns around. “We’re taking the rooms on the right balcony. Girls in the middle. Take them up and see them settled.”
“Lieutenant,” Kyle drops his head in a quick nod and gestures us to follow him up the stairs. As we do I get a bird’s eye view of the casino floor, at the rows and rows of gambling machines, mostly still standing but almost all have suffered the same fate as the vending machine. I wonder if it was the old man, or just earlier opportunists. It’s been a while since money that came in coin form was enough to buy anything. But then, I suppose if you had enough coins. A brief image of a thief trailing into one of the markets with eight bags of tinkling swag floats in my head and it’s almost enough to rouse a smile. The small movement hurts and I realise I’ve burnt my cheeks as well and – I reach tenderly to find out – my nose. Wonderful. If the heat coming off my skin is any indication, I could probably give Rudolf a run for his money right now.
“Allow me to show you your room, ladies.” Kyle put a shoulder to a door smack in the middle of the row of rooms running along the balcony and thrusts it open. Then he bows low and sweeps his arm inside in a ridiculous parody of a bell-boy.
“Aren’t you supposed to carry our bags, too?” I ask, wincing as I slide my backpack over my abused skin.
“That depends,” he drawls, “Have you got money for a tip?”
He has me there, and this time I really do smile. And it hurts, but it’s worth it when Kyle smiles back. God I’m pathetic.
“Don’t leave this room,” he warns as he retreats, closing the door behind him.
“Kyle!” I call out, just before he disappears. He pops his head back in, expression politely curious. “Bathroom?” I ask, doing a little jiggle to import the urgency of my request.
