Free Crushed Ice by Eric Pete Page A

exited with everyone else at Soar. The place was at capacity now, so I stood in the winding line to patiently wait my turn, in spite of my wristband. As I rested against the wall, I overheard someone commenting on “some rapper dude” being thrown to the floor by security and escorted from the building. It was already showing up on Twitter.
    Little solace, as I still didn’t have anything on Natalia to use. Strange that while despising Jason, some part of me still hated disappointing him.
    A group of partygoers drew attention as they escaped the excitement inside, either done for the night or simply taking the party elsewhere. When I heard Natalia’s name being screamed out further up the line, I perked up.
    She was leaving—arm in arm with Sophia.
    Legs striding as if on someone’s runway, the bow on her dress was still there, waiting to be unwrapped.
    I made sure Sophia saw me. Holding her newfound friend up as they staggered by, she winked at me. No words; just a look saying, I got this.
    Extraordinary.
    I nodded, letting them pass with nary a word on my part.
    As the elevator closed with them in it, I knew where they were headed.
    And I knew where I needed to be.

Chapter 15
    Back at my hotel room, with my laptop powered up, everything was a go. My jacket lay tossed on the back of my chair. Shoes kicked off, I rolled up my sleeves. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end as the electronic world before me sprang to life once more. In another life, I probably would’ve been serving abroad in military intelligence or the CIA. But I wasn’t that guy. I came up on a path less traveled. A dark, winding road with hairpin turns and sudden pitfalls rarely seen until it was too late.
    The camera installed in the bedroom smoke detector of Natalia’s suite still worked. Someone was in the living room, but I couldn’t make out the figures.
    Nothing was happening in Penny Antnee’s suite. Downstairs blowing his wad . . . of another sort, no doubt.
    During this lull, I took my phone and downloaded the photo I’d taken of Katelyn McMahon back at Soar. Knowing I wasn’t the only one with a camera phone, time was of the essence for such a shot. Once I sent the jpeg on its way, I waited for a response. The recipient replied almost immediately.

    That looks like Vegas. I knew you’d be out there!
    You said you needed something.
    Yeah. But this ain’t my normal demographic. And no-singing, no-actin’ white girls getting drunk in clubs ain’t new. You couldn’t get Natalia, or Halle Berry at least?
    I’m throwing you a bone. If you don’t like, I’m sure TMZ will. Check out what Katelyn’s best friend is busy doing with her boyfriend in the background.
    OH! SNAP! I missed that.
    That’s what I’m here for. To illuminate things.
    I owe you.
    I know. Out.

    I went back to monitoring the pair of suites over at Stratus, drinking from my bottle of Voss while I rested my feet atop the desk. Sophia and Natalia finally entered the bedroom, where I could see them better. Knowing for certain where they were, I closed the window to the feed in Penny Antnee’s suite and enlarged the screen to Natalia’s instead.
    Through my cyber looking glass, I peered into a world of silent seduction. Having no audio really sucked. Natalia and Sophia danced around the room, spinning in circles. Natalia was out of her sandals, making her noticeably shorter as she reached up to drape her arms around Sophia’s neck. She reminded me of one of those drunken sorority girls, probably slurring her words while professing her undying love for her best friend.
    One final spin and Sophia was done. She pried Natalia’s hands away as she gently lowered her onto the bed. I remembered viewing a similar scene, but with Natalia dancing before Penny Antnee in nothing but a towel. Now Natalia was the spectator.
    And Sophia, the performer.
    She said something to Natalia. Made