Free Witch World by Christopher Pike Page B

downstairs. Don’t even think of leaving the crowd at the door unless you’re in a cab. I left some smaller bills on the living room table. Don’t share a cab no matter how much someone begs you to. Remember, in this town, always take your own taxi.”
    “I understand.” I began to pick up my clothes. “Will I see you again?”
    “That’s up to you. Take the key I gave you. I can always call down to the front desk for another. Come by whenever you want.” He added quietly, “Or else come by when you don’t know what else to do.”
    “Russ?”
    “Just do what I say.” He turned away, wrapping himself in a blanket. “I really have to sleep,” he whispered.
    His breathing had altered by the time I was dressed. He was out cold—not snoring, but far from this world. I collected my purse, his key, the cash he had left on the table, and the leather bag crammed with a hundred thousand dollars. Swinging it over my shoulders by its straps, I felt as if I discovered golden wings that could fly me to a new destiny. Only I knew this was Las Vegas, the City of Sin, and that the gold here was really colored green.
    There was a line for taxis at the door. I was tempted toset off for the MGM on foot. But I remembered Russ’s warning, and there were a few dark spots between the two hotels, areas where someone wicked who had been spying on me earlier, and knew what I had won, could stage a surprise attack. I forced myself to wait for a taxi. Finally, when my turn came, the driver was annoyed I was only going a few blocks. He wanted to pick up the couple behind me as well.
    “No,” I said. “Take me alone.”
    He was old, grouchy, burned-out from too many years under the desert sun. “I’ve waited thirty minutes. I can’t make any money off your fare.”
    “Hey, babe, we don’t mind riding with ya,” the guy behind me said.
    His girl kissed him. “We like threesomes.”
    I ignored them, spoke to the driver. “You have to take me alone, those are the city rules. But I promise to give you a big tip.”
    “How big?” the taxi driver demanded.
    I opened the door and jumped in. “Shut up and drive,” I said.
    We arrived at the MGM in fifteen minutes. The traffic caused the delay. Plus I refused to get out of the cab until the driver took me to the front entrance. Then I opened my purse, not the bag Russ had given me, and gave the driver ten bucks for the fare and another twenty dollars for a tip. He seemed satisfied, although he didn’t thank me. He had no idea the kind of tip he would have received if he’d been the least bit polite.
    Inside, I checked at the front desk and asked if they had a vault with private lockers where I could store an important bag. Of course they had just the place; they were used to people with valuables. A guard led me to a room lined with lockers and handed me a key. I opened the locker and put the bag inside and relocked it.
    “Does anyone come down here without an escort?” I asked.
    “No, ma’am. They need a key and have to be with me or one of the other guards to get in here.”
    “What if I lose the key and someone else finds it?”
    “You have to show ID to get in this room. Don’t worry, ma’am, your bag is completely safe.”
    “Thank you,” I said.
    Upstairs I found Jimmy sitting outside my door on the hallway floor. He was dozing, with his head on his knees, but he heard me approach and stood quickly. He looked happy to see me. Of course the reverse—times a thousand—was also true.
    “How long have you been waiting here?” I asked.
    “I don’t know. A while.”
    “You couldn’t share a room with Ted?”
    “No. I mean, yes, he loaned me his key.” Jimmy added, nodding toward my suite, “He’s inside, with Debbie.”
    “With Debbie?” I had to laugh. “How long have they . . . oh, never mind. Do you know where Alex is?”
    “I haven’t seen her. Wasn’t she with you?”
    “We were together but she got annoyed and ran off. You know