for your help, you get undying love and devotion. They’ll never leave you until it’s their time. Can you handle that?”
Something sparked in Myra’s eyes. “I’m a mother, Charles, and mothers can handle anything that comes their way.”
Charles turned away to hide his smile. “Well then, there you go. If you have the situation under control, I think I’ll head back to the kitchen to clean up. And then I have some work I need to finish. If you need me, just give a shout.”
“Before you head down to the dungeons, I could use some coffee. It’s going to be a long night, and I have a lot of stories to tell Little Lady, so she’ll feel she belongs. She is ours, isn’t she?” Myra asked anxiously.
“Damn straight she’s ours, and so are those pups,” Charles said. He didn’t see any need to tell Myra the vet had brought Little Lady and her pups out to the barn yesterday. He’d called ahead when Little Lady’s elderly owner passed away two days ago and asked Charles to take the dog and her pups. Sensing this was the solution to Myra’s problem, he’d jumped at the chance, hoping his few little white lies to Myra would never come back to haunt him. He whistled now as he started to tidy up the kitchen.
It was so nice to have a family again.
Three thousand miles away, Annie de Silva was walking around the floor of the Babylon Casino. The customers ignored her as they feverishly dropped money into the slot machines or plunked down chips at the tables. Not so the casino staff. They imperceptibly straightened their shoulders, stood a little taller, their sharp-eyed gazes wheeling around the floor like random ricochets. Everyone learned from day one that Annie de Silva was hell on wheels, that she kicked ass and took names later. They learned it because Annie de Silva herself told them so and warned each and every one of them not to bring it to a test.
From time to time she would stop at a table or slot machine and, if the customer seemed amenable, strike up a conversation. She liked to know the people who frequented Babylon and loved hearing the nice things they said about the establishment she and Fish owned. She especially loved the seniors who came on bus trips for the free luncheons and the twenty-five dollars in chips her people handed out. The business never made any money on the little groups, but the casino counted on the goodwill the program generated.
As she ambled about the floor, Annie’s mind wandered. How much longer was she going to keep doing this? It was so old hat that she could do it in her sleep, and the thrill had been gone for a long time now. She felt her eyes start to burn as she thought about Myra and the girls, and wondered if they felt at loose ends the way she did.
She was sick and tired of lying to Myra and the girls about how happy she was, that she loved working in the casino and being with Fish. Well, she did sort of love being with Fish, more or less, but she was just as happy when he took off for days, sometimes weeks, at a time to work for Global Securities. Plus, she was starting to think there was something a little screwy where that organization was concerned. Well, one of these days she’d figure it out, but not right this moment. Homecomings with Fish were rather nice but a real letdown at times, too. The bloom, if there had ever been one, was definitely off the rose these days. There just wasn’t one damn thing about this new life of hers that was exciting or spontaneous. Not a single damn thing.
Sad to say, owner or not, the staff here at Babylon merely tolerated her, and that was the bottom line. It was time to take a crack at sticking her nose into the Post. Maggie probably wouldn’t like it, but then, Maggie was expendable, just like everyone else. Annie owned the damn paper. She’d stay just long enough to stir up some trouble, screw things up, then take off for other parts. That was her life these days.
Annie stopped now where a gaggle of seniors were arguing over the slot machines. She sat down on one of the chairs and listened to the heated exchange. Half of the group wanted to cash in the chips for money so they could put it toward something or other at the group home they lived in, and the other half wanted to play with it.
Annie looked enough like some of the members that she felt she could stick her nose into their business and offer some advice. Without stopping to think, she started to chat up one of the women with a tart tongue who wanted to cash in the chips.
“Before you make a decision,” Annie said to the sharp-tongued woman, “you should all play the only slot machine on the floor that actually takes a chip.” She craned her neck to see that machine, standing apart from all the others. The bells and whistles emanating from it were earsplitting. She pointed to it and watched all the little old ladies and stoop-shouldered men staring at it. One of the men, who claimed to have exceptional eyesight, bellowed that it cost ten dollars a turn. His partner with two hearing aids shouted that the jackpot was $1.8 million.
These startling declarations started a whole new round of arguing. “We have to pay tax on it if we win!”
“What would we do with all that money?”
“We could prepay our own funerals so our kids don’t get stuck with the bills.”
“How will we get all that money back to Culpepper, Virginia, without getting mugged?”
“Then everyone will want to be our new best friends and borrow money from us.”
“Who’s going to manage the money?”
Annie wanted to swat all of them. “Come along, ladies and gentlemen, you can watch me play. I’ll warm up the machine for you.”
“Who did you say you were again?” someone asked.
“I’m a gambling addict,” Annie said cheerfully, leading the way to the machine that promised untold riches. Cell phone to her ear, Annie whispered instructions, then quickly turned off her phone. She looked upward and nodded in slow motion to the unseen eyes that saw everything that went on down below.
“Hit it!” the man with two hearing aids bellowed. Annie hit it with a chip from her pocket. Nothing happened. “Bummer,” the man said.
Annie dropped another forty dollars before she turned the machine over to the members of the group home. Another hassle ensued as each of them kicked in a dollar. With two dollars to spare, it was decided that the group had to sign off on a scrap of paper that if they won, the money would be divided equally. Everyone signed their name, but it didn’t solve the problem of the extra two dollars. Annie settled it by snatching the twelve dollar bills and shoving them in her pocket. She handed out two ten-dollar chips.
By this time, to Annie’s dismay, a small group started to form around the famous slot machine as the seniors started to argue again about who was going to press the button that might or might not make them rich. “You all need to just shut up for one minute here!” Annie screeched to be heard over the bells and whistles. “You!” she said, pointing to a mousy little lady wearing a shawl and carrying a string bag. The lady stepped forward and flexed her fingers.
“Shouldn’t we say a prayer or bless ourselves or something?” the man with two hearing aids queried.
“Absolutely!” Annie said through clenched teeth. She wished she was sitting in an office at the Post writing a grisly story about something or other, one that would win her a Pulitzer Prize.
The mousy lady dropped the chip into the slot and pressed the button.
“Well, so much for that!” someone groaned.
“You still have one more chip!” Annie shouted.
The
