25
The wedding chapel was located on the north end of the Las Vegas Strip, bordering the no-man’s-land called Naked City that lay like an open wound between the gross affluence of the Strip properties and the dogged redevelopment of the downtown area. Squeezed in between were pawnshops outfitted like jail cells, an infamous strip club, and the now condemned apartment buildings where the showgirls in the forties would sunbathe nude on the rooftops, thus giving the area its colorful name. Criminal activity still flourished in the area, but the drug dealers and addicts were slowly being squeezed out by high-rise developers-the city’s modern-day prospectors-and had begun oozing into other parts of the city. I’d canvassed this area many times when I was a photographer, before most of the flophouses were razed and the low-income housing relocated. The poor had no place to go even then, and despite the progress in the area, or because of it, their options looked even bleaker now.
With tonight’s much-hyped gala, and police presence in strong evidence, the scariest obstacles on my walk to the chapel were the crater-sized potholes angling for my low heels. And chapel, I thought, finally reaching the front door, was a bit of a misnomer. Viva Las Vegas was huge. The largest chapel in Vegas, it specialized in themed weddings, boasting one traditional cathedral and a half-dozen fantasy chapels. The attached hotel and B &B was a natural outgrowth of the chapel’s success, and the establishment now took up an entire city block, with an open-aired courtyard linking the two enterprises. It was kitschy and clever, and the owners had thrown caution to the wind with typical Vegas flair.
Tonight the doors to all the themed rooms were flung wide open to the autumn air, space heaters anchored between doorways like toasty sentries, and a red-carpeted catering tent set up in the middle of the courtyard. Though two weeks early, guests were clearly in the Halloween spirit, and some had even gone as far as costuming themselves for a particular room, though it was a bit disconcerting to see Al Capone wandering from the Gangster Suite into the turrets of Camelot.
A good deal of the women, unwilling to muss their hair or makeup, were dressed in half masks, and quite a few men had donned full-faced disguises as well. These unnerved me the most. Fortunately, as we were in Vegas, most of the guests had decided to dress up as pimps and hos. There seemed to be some sort of unspoken contest to see who could wear the least amount of clothing without getting arrested.
I smiled as I passed a bevy of Elvi and Priscillas lounging on a pink Cadillac bed, but moved onto the DooWop diner, where honeymooners could spend their first morning as a couple sharing coffee and Danish and gazing lovingly into their inbox via the hotel’s free Internet access. Tonight the diner was being used as an open bar, but I didn’t see Ben there, so I moved on.
And stumbled over a handful of ankle biters.
“You little fuckers just keep popping up everywhere, don’t you?” I said, my gaze narrowed on a pint-sized Grim Reaper.
“You can’t talk to us like that.” The Reaper’s voice was muffled beneath his rubber skull, but I could tell it was Douglas. How fitting. He looked a lot like the Shadows. “We’re kids. We have rights.”
“You’re mutants. You have tentacles,” I said menacingly. I watched him take a step back, then turned to Carl. I’d been right; his costume was that of a normal kid. “Where’s Jasmine? And Li?”
“Jas blew us off for some school dance. Li isn’t feeling so hot. She’s staying home.” I stared at Carl a moment longer, then closed my eyes, feeling myself go dizzy at the sudden sadness glossing his gaze. He saw it and his voice brightened in a deliberate attempt to sound cheerful. “You look good, Archer. Better than Angelina even.”
I glanced down at my ensemble and murmured my thanks. My costume was tame compared to most. I’d chosen an outfit that seemed like a good blend of both Olivia’s sensibilities and mine. The amalgamation of our personalities was, I noted with some surprise, becoming increasingly comfortable.
I’d chosen to come in the not-so-discreet guise of video game vixen Lara Croft. Or at least a highly improbable Vegas version of her. There would be no jungle adventures or treks through a muddy swamp for me, most notably because I’d taken her latex tank top and khaki short-shorts and recast them into racing-stripe red. It made it a bit hard to blend, but then this was the neon-zapped concrete jungle on a slamming Saturday night, and blending wasn’t the point. So I’d accented the outfit with a black leather utility belt and a rhinestone buckle to match the jewels glued into my blond fall. Red leather cut gloves complemented my knee-high, lace-up hiking boots, which had been streamlined for less bulk, though I’d seized the opportunity to keep the lower heel.
“So what do you guys want?”
“Oh, because it’s all about you?” Douglas snarled, leaning on his scythe. “We’re here for the free treats, man. Screw that slogging from door-to-door thing. The owners are giving out super-sized chocolate bars.”
Dylan-a zombie-snickered and elbowed Kade-a pirate-who elbowed me. “Super-sized, get it?”
I didn’t smile. “Fine. Then you’ll have no problem staying away from me. I’m here on official…”
I trailed off as a woman dressed like a naughty nun began waving madly at me from the Egyptian Suite. I knew her, I thought, tilting my head, though I wasn’t sure how. It was hard to place her beneath the satin veil. It came to me as she reached my side, though, and I found myself smiling back at her, and a man who was obviously a little starstruck where Olivia Archer was concerned.
“Hey, Janet,” I said, as she adjusted her lace bandeau. “Sorry. It took me a moment to recognize you outside the gift shop.”
“That’s okay. It’s probably the habit that threw you.” She motioned down its length-about two inches; it ended just below her butt cheeks-then elbowed her companion. “See, I told you I knew her, Ted.”
I offered Ted my hand, aware I had a very captive audience in the kids as well. They hadn’t seen me in Olivia mode before, and it was probably like laying eyes on Diana Prince. Janet’s date-a clearly defrocked priest-pumped my hand earnestly. Ted grinned, showing perfect teeth. “It’s a dream come true, Ms. Archer.”
The Grim Reaper mimed impaling himself on his scythe. “I think I just threw up a little in my mouth.”
I took a large step to the side, my heel grinding into his toe. He howled, and I whirled immediately, simultaneously freeing my hand from Ted’s clammy grasp and acting surprised. “Sorry, little one,” I said, ruffling the hair tufting from Douglas’s pointed hood. He jerked away. “I didn’t see you there.”
“Isn’t the kiddie section set up over in the main chapel?” Ted asked snidely, clearly having heard Douglas’s comment.
Janet too was piqued. “I didn’t know they had a romper room in this place.”
Okay, it was one thing if I picked on the little brats. It was something else entirely if two grown adults, exactly whom these kids loathed and feared becoming, did the same. “It’s a benefit for the Children’s Fund. These are some of the youngsters we’re helping.”
Carl didn’t seem impressed with my attempt to defend them. “Yeah, well, we’re going to take our homeless little asses over to the Alamo now. Maybe they have some brand-new cardboard boxes for us to live in.”