Read Online What Stays in Vegas by Beth Labonte - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Beth Labonte
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city.
“What if something happened to her?” I wondered aloud. “Has she ever done this before?”
“No,” said Dan. “ She’s flakey but she’s always the first one here. And she would never be late on a Dorfman day.” His left leg bounced up and down like mad.
Chris was hunched over his drafting table, red pen in hand, frantically marking up a set of Jiggly Kitty plans. “You’d better try calling her house,” he said over his shoulder.
“I already tried that,” I sighed. “Nobody answered.”
I left their office and reluctantly walked over to the reception desk. If Kendra had called in, Roberta would be the first to know. I found her reading a copy of Woman’s Day , opened to a recipe for rack of lamb.
“Are you making that tonight?” I asked.
She looked up at me like I had just suggested she come to work naked next Thursday.
“Oh goodness, no,” she said. “I just like to look at the pictures. If I so much as smelled a meal like that I would gain twelve pounds.” She turned the page with her bony wrist.
“You know, Roberta," I said, "you’re very skinny. You really don’t need to worry about your weight so much.”
She shot me that look again - like I had suggested she come to work naked wearing cowboy boots.
“You sound just like my doctor,” she said. “Poor thing is at least twenty pounds overweight.”
My brain screamed at me to end the conversation, so I changed the subject and asked if she had heard anything from Kendra. She had not. I wished her luck with her rack of lamb and decided to go see Charlene in the lobby.
“But I’m not making it!” Roberta shouted after me.
I found Charlene watering plants by the front windows.
"Hey!" she said. "You just missed Fartz! He looked pretty hammered this morning, like he's been out all night - hey, what's wrong? You look like a wreck."
I thanked her for the compliment and then explained the predicament I was in.
"The little squirt's going to murder us if Kendra's not here." I pinched the leaves of a fern tightly between my fingers.
“Why don’t you swing by her house?” she suggested, gently prying my fingers off the plant. “I have home addresses for everybody in the building in my computer. Makes you feel safe, huh?” She rolled her eyes and put the watering can back under her desk. She wrote the address down on a purple post-it note.
I thanked her for the help, and pushed my way through the heavy glass doors, onward with my mission.
***
Over the past few days I had grown to expect glamour and excess around every corner, so I was probably not as shocked as I should have been when I pulled into the driveway of 6 Whispering Palm Drive. I parked behind a blue BMW, which I assumed to be Kendra’s, and surveyed the outside of the house for signs of burglary. I didn't really want to walk in on something I would regret. Everything seemed normal. Well, everything except the sheer enormity and gorgeousness of the place.
How do I even begin to describe it? The house was made up of mostly windows. Five arch shaped windows lined the front wall of the second level, and below them was the front door, nestled between two sets of massive bay windows. To the left, the house jutted out into a circular room topped off by a turret. The house had a turret for Christ sake. The turret alone was larger than my entire apartment back home. A rolling green lawn, landscaped to perfection and dotted with palm trees, topped everything off like a cherry on a very expensive cake.
The street was eerily quiet as most people had already gone to work. The only sign of life came from a man pulling weeds across the street.
“Excuse me,” I shouted. “Have you seen anybody come out of this house today?”
The man stopped what he was doing and wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his gardening glove.
“Just Mr. Stoltz,” he shouted
“What if something happened to her?” I wondered aloud. “Has she ever done this before?”
“No,” said Dan. “ She’s flakey but she’s always the first one here. And she would never be late on a Dorfman day.” His left leg bounced up and down like mad.
Chris was hunched over his drafting table, red pen in hand, frantically marking up a set of Jiggly Kitty plans. “You’d better try calling her house,” he said over his shoulder.
“I already tried that,” I sighed. “Nobody answered.”
I left their office and reluctantly walked over to the reception desk. If Kendra had called in, Roberta would be the first to know. I found her reading a copy of Woman’s Day , opened to a recipe for rack of lamb.
“Are you making that tonight?” I asked.
She looked up at me like I had just suggested she come to work naked next Thursday.
“Oh goodness, no,” she said. “I just like to look at the pictures. If I so much as smelled a meal like that I would gain twelve pounds.” She turned the page with her bony wrist.
“You know, Roberta," I said, "you’re very skinny. You really don’t need to worry about your weight so much.”
She shot me that look again - like I had suggested she come to work naked wearing cowboy boots.
“You sound just like my doctor,” she said. “Poor thing is at least twenty pounds overweight.”
My brain screamed at me to end the conversation, so I changed the subject and asked if she had heard anything from Kendra. She had not. I wished her luck with her rack of lamb and decided to go see Charlene in the lobby.
“But I’m not making it!” Roberta shouted after me.
I found Charlene watering plants by the front windows.
"Hey!" she said. "You just missed Fartz! He looked pretty hammered this morning, like he's been out all night - hey, what's wrong? You look like a wreck."
I thanked her for the compliment and then explained the predicament I was in.
"The little squirt's going to murder us if Kendra's not here." I pinched the leaves of a fern tightly between my fingers.
“Why don’t you swing by her house?” she suggested, gently prying my fingers off the plant. “I have home addresses for everybody in the building in my computer. Makes you feel safe, huh?” She rolled her eyes and put the watering can back under her desk. She wrote the address down on a purple post-it note.
I thanked her for the help, and pushed my way through the heavy glass doors, onward with my mission.
***
Over the past few days I had grown to expect glamour and excess around every corner, so I was probably not as shocked as I should have been when I pulled into the driveway of 6 Whispering Palm Drive. I parked behind a blue BMW, which I assumed to be Kendra’s, and surveyed the outside of the house for signs of burglary. I didn't really want to walk in on something I would regret. Everything seemed normal. Well, everything except the sheer enormity and gorgeousness of the place.
How do I even begin to describe it? The house was made up of mostly windows. Five arch shaped windows lined the front wall of the second level, and below them was the front door, nestled between two sets of massive bay windows. To the left, the house jutted out into a circular room topped off by a turret. The house had a turret for Christ sake. The turret alone was larger than my entire apartment back home. A rolling green lawn, landscaped to perfection and dotted with palm trees, topped everything off like a cherry on a very expensive cake.
The street was eerily quiet as most people had already gone to work. The only sign of life came from a man pulling weeds across the street.
“Excuse me,” I shouted. “Have you seen anybody come out of this house today?”
The man stopped what he was doing and wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his gardening glove.
“Just Mr. Stoltz,” he shouted
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