Page 55 of The Chosen Two

He shrugs and unlocks the bright red mustang we’re going to be driving.

“Okay. I guess we’re not going for inconspicuous?” I can’t help but break out in laughter, which ends up snowballing until I’m on my knees, hysterically laughing and crying in the middle of the parking garage.

George looks confused and terrified and doesn’t know what to do with me. Until he also starts laughing. He doesn’t reach the same level of hysteria, but he is definitely laughing harder than I have ever seen him laugh.

After a ridiculously short drive, we arrive at Ceasar’s Palace in style in our zippy little red rental car. George self-parks so we will have access to the car whenever we need it. We are still experiencing the aftershocks of our fits of laugher in the airport parking garage as we walk into the hotel. As we walk through the Forum Casino to get to the lobby, my jaw drops and my eyes open wide as I take in the shimmering lights in the room that looks too dark for time of day. I remember reading somewhere that they do that on purpose so people don’t realize how long they’ve been gambling. I want to cover my ears to protect them from the bombardment of beeps, clicks, and voices surround me. This is nothing like what I expected! Having never been to Vegas before, I how zero idea what to expect here. This was really something!

There’s a line three parties deep at the check-in stand, so George and I pass the time by people watching and chit chatting about what we hope to see on the strip while we’re here. I don’t know if our conversation is for show so the people around us will think we’re just on a normal mother-son trip, or because we are trying to pretend to ourselves that we’re not here to do what we’re really here to do.

Finally, it is our turn to check in. George confirms that the room has a sofabed before he accepts the keys, and I give him a pat on the back.

Then I lean on the counter and ask the clerk, “Oh! I’m so sorry. I almost forgot. We’re meeting a friend here, but we’re not sure where his room is. Could you look him up for us? His name is Jake Gold.”

“I can’t tell you his room number, but I can tell you if he is staying here.” After a few keystrokes, she says, “No, I’m sorry. Jake is not a registered guest with us.”

I’m lost. I don’t know what to do now. I have no way to find my husband.

Luckily, George is thinking more clearly than I am. “Is there a block of rooms the music group The Celestials use for guests? He’s here as a talent manager trying to sign them, so maybe he’s in one of their rooms?”

The clerk’s face lights up. “Oh, no! They don’t have a block of rooms. They have use of one of our villas since they are headlining at our Colosseum.. They have all their guests stay with them there. So, I’m sure this, Jake, is staying there as well.”

I beam. “Oh! That’s great! Well then, you just direct us to that, and we’ll go after we stop in the room to freshen up!”

“I’m sorry, ma’am. I cannot do that. Even if we were talking about a regular guest, I could not disclose this kind of information. And The Celestials arecertainlynot regular guests. We need to protect our customers. I’m sure you understand.”

I smile sweetly. “Really? There’s nothing you can do?”

She smiles back. “There’s really nothing. I’m sorry.” And she signals for the next customer in line to come up and take our place before her counter.

But I’m not moving that easily. “Oh, one last question. Would you be able to get us tickets for The Celestials’ concert tonight?”

She grimaces but nods curtly, her lips pressed into a tight, colorless line. A few more strokes on the key board, and she’s printing our tickets and handing them to us. “They are the best seats available. I hope you enjoy your stay, and the show.”

I nod and take the tickets. Mezzanine seats, but first row mezzanine. At lease we’ll be able to see what they’re like. Hopefully, their music won’t make my ears bleed.

Finally finished checking in and no closer to achieving our end goal for this trip, we head to our room. On our way through the casino, George grabs my elbow softly and tilts his head to a table. “Wanna play some poker?”

I furrow my brow and am quiet for a few seconds. “Umm, I think we’re gambling enough this weekend just taking this trip, don’t you think?” He laughs, and we continue on our way.

The room is elegantly done in gray and white with a few sparse yellow accents. I push my suitcase against a wall and collapse across the bed. “I need a fucking nap.”

George raises an eyebrow. “Seriously? Already?”

I look up at him. “This day has lasted a week. Shut up. Please.”

George orders a pot of coffee and some burgers to the room as I close my eyes.

Chapter 23

Miranda

Iwakeupcompletelydisoriented and look at the clock to see an hour has passed and it’s now four o’clock. We have four hours until the concert. I stretch and stand. I see George doing some kind of slow dance by himself in the sitting area. Shaking my head, both in confusion and because I’m trying to shake the sleepiness away, I pour a cup of coffee from the silver carafe on top of the dresser. Still piping hot. Nice. On the desk is a room service tray with two cloche covered dishes. The first one I open has a half-eaten burger, so I pick up the second. Bingo. As I sit in the swiveling desk chair, my stomach growls, loudly, and I begin eating the burger like a lion going at a zebra carcass.

“You okay over there?” George’s voice is full of amusement.

I swivel around, not putting my burger down. “Yeah, just hungry. You?”

He has one arm stretched out in front of him, palm forward, and he looks past it at an imaginary adversary; the other hand is also palm forward, but next to his cheek. His legs are in what I’ve come to learn is sumo stance, knees bent low, feet turned out, back straight. Always need to keep that spinal integrity!

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