The Thrice Born Page 10

  She took a step back, negotiating the marble porch expertly without even looking to her feet. “Dinner it is?”

  “Estelle...” He looked out to the blacktop drive that circled before the two-story brick Spanish-style house. There was no sign of a car or taxi. His attention snapped back to her as she took a side-step down the three step porch. “You want dinner?”

  She nodded. “Very much.”

  “Let me give you a ride back –”

  “Where shall we eat tonight?”

  He leaned an arm on the door, watching the lines her legs made as she stepped off the porch. “The Crib’s Pandora, main dining room. How’s that?”

  She smiled. “Ooh, Pandora.”

  “It’s a four-star restaurant. I stole the chef from the Laurel and Wreath.”

  She nodded, not even considering the magnitude of culinary ability. “Good. I’ll be hungry.”

  “Seven o’clock.”

  Jason was more than ready by the time he reached the Pandora that evening. The stunted glimpse of Estelle, even in her causal skirt and blouse, was enough to whet an appetite he’d been suppressing. He settled at the corner table that the hostess kept reserved for him and signaled away the wine steward who nodded to him. The head chef he’d enticed away from one of the better casinos on The Strip would be alerted he was there, but Jason’s interest wasn’t in whatever the sommelier or chef could offer. Try as he may, and despite what he told Estelle, there was more on his mind than the blonde woman’s deft attempt at lightening of his casino coffers.

  Much more, in fact, and it was partly those thoughts that made him rein himself in. He was far too well-established in life to swept off his feet, but he was aware he was definitely out of his depth in the attraction department this time.

  And he did not know why.

  The soft music floating through the dining room was hushed by the low pile carpet and cozy nook booths and small, intimately spaced round tables. The hanging foliage was real, carefully selected to appease the eye and not irritate delicate respiratory systems. Jason had spent a lot of time and good money to read people, and not just for gambling purposes. He didn’t know why he wasn’t getting anywhere with Estelle.

  As if on queue, Estelle walked through the room’s entry, turning a few heads of the male diners seated. Jason smiled at her, waving her over as a waiter followed. He stood when she reached the table and he got a good look at her.

  “My God, you’re so beautiful,” he murmured.

  She smiled, enjoying his attention, pausing at the chair as his eyes went over her. The fitted ruby red evening gown was accented with gold beading at her décolletage along the vibrant satin, holding the brass chandelier’s light perfectly against her skin. Her hair was pulled up, but not severely, a few loose strands falling about her face. At her throat was a gold necklace with a small darker-toned pendant.

  He held out her chair for her and she sat, nodding to the waiter that was approaching with a wine list. “Two glasses for now,” he said before the waiter could speak.

  “Very good, sir,” said the waiter.

  Jason took his seat and the waiter handed them each a menu and left.

  Jason looked to Estelle. “I mean it, Estelle. You are beautiful.”

  She smiled. “And you very handsome, Jason.”

  “Can I ask you something?”

  She nodded. “Of course.”

  “Are you rich? Is this really just a game you’re playing with me?” He saw the disappointment cross her face. He nodded to the sleek lines of the satin she wore. “Because that’s a really expensive dress.”

  “I earned the money to buy this dress,” she said. She let one hand rest on the table, a finger absently pressing a small wrinkle from the burgundy tablecloth.

  “By begging?”

  Her gaze dropped to her finger.

  “And this roulette game was just cosmic serendipity?” he posed. “A stroke of good luck?”

  “Do you recall these words, Jason?” Her tone lost all humor. “’What kind of man is this? Even the winds and the waves obey him!’ Sound familiar?”

  “That’s from the Bible,” he said. “Are you saying the roulette ball obeys your commands?”

  “If it did, would that be against your rules?”

  “No, because it’s impossible.”

  “I don’t do anything,” she said with a sigh. “I stand before the table and empty my thoughts. I voice my wishes within myself and call out numbers to the croupier.” She shrugged, making the pendant chain fold over the curve of her shoulder blade. “That’s it.”

  He frowned. “Are you saying that God spun that little ball?”

  Estelle was silent for a long moment, seeming to mull the suggestion over in her mind. She lifted one shoulder in a prim shrug. She causally looked around at the other tables and diners. “When can we eat, Jason?” she asked, looking back to him. “I’m famished.”

  The waiter returned and set a basket of rolls on the table and filled their water glasses. He didn’t look directly at Estelle as Jason gave him a nod. The waiter lit the tall white candles in the crystal holder between them on the table.

  “We’re not quite ready to order,” Jason told him, anticipating his next question. “Come back in a few.”

  The waiter nodded and left. Jason sat back in his chair, admiring the shimmer of candlelight that flickered over the gold and darker metal of Estelle’s pendant. He cleared his throat. “They never got a video of your performance in security.”

  She nodded absently, reaching into the basket to retrieve a soft roll. She looked at it in delight, and pulled the butter dish closer to her plate.

  He watched her liberally butter the bread. “There was a lot of confusion in security, Estelle. There wasn’t any kind of consensus about your appearance. Many of them think you’re quite ugly.” He’d added the last part to gauge her reaction, but she had little.

  “I’m not surprised,” she said, her words a little thick as she had just taken a bite. “Could we get some wine?”

  He looked for their waiter across the room and signaled to him for his usual red label. A moment later the waiter returned, filling both their wine glasses with a merlot. Jason thanked him and the waiter left.

  He watched Estelle devour the second half of the roll, wondering to himself how she could somehow make the action looked refined. “Some say you’re forty,” he said, back to their previous topic. “Others say twenty. One has you as a brunette,” he said, recalling his debrief with the security team, which hadn’t accomplished much. “One says you wear designer dresses; another that you dress in fatigues.”

  Estelle was unfazed by the varying descriptions. “Only you can see me in the form I’ve chosen,” she said, her mouth still full. She smiled anyway. “But it’s not completely stabilized.”

  He chuckled as she reached for another roll. “That sounds like some kind of a fuel mixture. Are you a fuel additive?”

  “I don’t know.” A teasing smile came to her lips as she turned the pumpernickel roll in her fingers, a different sort of hunger lighting her eyes. “Are you a fuel injector? Because I’d be interested in that.” She smiled, one hand crossing the table to squeeze his for a moment. She sat back and began to butter the roll.

  Jason’s mind was still on the soft touch of her fingers on the back of his hand as he watched her movements when suddenly her hand seemed to dissolve before him. At first he thought it was a trick of the lighting, the dance of the candlelight, but there was no mistake. Her arm seemed to disappear, the flesh taking on a transparency as she continued to butter the roll, seemingly unaware of the surreal appearance of her skin.

  “Oh, my God!” he said nearly too loud. He shook his head, closing his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, her arm was whole again, but still faintly opaque, as if the color hadn’t quite manifested.

  Estelle had noticed his observation. “Would that happen if I were perfectly stabilized?” She frowned slightly, looking to him. “Well?
”

  He shook his head, nodding to her as she set her knife on the dish and returned his fascination. “You’re a stage magician,” he said. It wasn’t the first time he’d been approached by creative means by hopeful employees and acts. It was Vegas, baby, he knew. “You came here to impress me – for a job. That’s it, right?”

  She smiled. “Oh, I want to impress you, all right. But not for a job.”

  Wariness tempered his interest. “For what then?”

  She moved her arm, its appearance variegated between wholly flesh and something less temporal. “For encounters like this. Lots and lots of them.”

  “You want me to take you out on dates? Is that what you mean?”

  Estelle shrugged enigmatically smiling.

  The waiter returned with the bottle of wine and poured for both of them. He said nothing of Estelle’s arm, as it had solidified instantly.

  Jason’s attention snapped to Estelle, wondering if it was her will or something else that made the change. She looked to him as the waiter looked to them expectantly.

  Jason nodded to her. “Have you decided on your dinner?”

  She opened the menu and consulted it quickly. “I think I’ll have the salmon.” She looked to the waiter. “Could you broil it for me, in honey sauce?”

  “We have honey,” he said. “I think you’re in luck.”

  “Is there a honeycomb with it?”

  “I believe so.”

  “Good. But bring the whole bottle when you bring the fish.” She closed the menu and handed it to him.

  The waiter looked to Jason, who just nodded, handing over his own menu.

  “Make it two salmon.”

  “Very good, sir.” The waiter nodded and left with the menus.

  Jason leaned over the table, resting his elbow near his plate as he focused on the pendant that lay just above the scoop of Estelle’s neckline. “Do you mind? Can I see your pendant?”

  She sat forward and held it in her fingers to the end of the dark, finely-linked metal chain.

  He wanted a better view. “Would you take it off?”

  She nodded and slipped the chain from around her neck. She set it in his palm, holding her breath in mild anticipation.

  Jason angled the pendant closer to the candlelight. It was similar in style to the image of an angel she’d given him that day on the street, but this one had sharper features, the beauty more severe, verging on ugly. He turned it, seeing the detailing better in the candlelight. Definitely close to ugly, he decided upon viewing it longer. It was still fine craftsmanship. He glanced back to Estelle. It didn’t seem like something a woman like her would wear. Perhaps a good luck charm.

  “This is somewhat like the one you gave me,” he said, handing it back to her. “Only this one, well, this image is very ugly. An heirloom?”

  For a moment she looked like she was going to nod, but she didn’t.

  “Why do you wear it?”

  A rueful smile came to her lips. “To remind me.”

  “Is this...is it from another culture?”

  She reached for it and quickly threaded it back onto the chain. “You might say that.”

  They finished dinner and Jason saw Estelle to her room in the hotel. He wasn’t ready to part her company at her door, but he wanted to put a little space between them.

  Space and time hadn’t worked too well the last few times he tried to distance himself from the mysterious, beautiful woman who’d walked into his casino and stolen more than a quarter mil in chips; he wasn’t ready yet to further detail exactly what she’d taken, but it was getting harder to ignore the obvious ebbing in his passions.

  He said goodnight – against her wishes, he could see – and turned back down the corridor to the elevators. He made himself walk slowly, their conversation over dinner still on his mind. Estelle’s easy talk of anything he wanted to talk about wasn’t out of the ordinary.

  He sighed, taking a turn down the next hall, giving himself some time to sort through the topics running through his mind before heading back down to the main level. There’d been women in the past – lots of beautiful women in the past – who’d gone out of their way to discover Jason Newhart’s interests; women who wanted on the inside of the casino, of his personal life, into his healthy bank accounts.

  Estelle was different. She acted as if she knew him, what he was about, where he’d been in a past he didn’t recall, and didn’t care about his present wealth. She was at ease with him and had the air of contentment he’d sought for a long time.

  Familiarity, he decided as the elevators came into view at the end of the hall. That was it. An out of place familiarity, as if they’d known each other.

  Which brought up the term Thrice-born.

  A sudden heaviness in his chest made his steps slow. He put a hand to his chest, breathing slower.

  “What on Earth?” he muttered beneath his breath, the arching spasm beneath his hand peaking. It subsided, making his breath uneven, his pulse raise. He put his other hand to the wall.

  He was too young and too fit for a heart-attack, he knew. He grinned as the thumping of his heartbeat regained its healthy pounding, the pain only momentarily. And too young for heart palpitations over a woman.

  He continued on to the elevator, still slightly breathless. He composed himself and halted at the car. When the doors opened, they immediately stepped in, leaning against the wall as the other people inside looked to him for a moment. They stopped at the ground floor and Jason waited for the doors to open and the other passengers to step out first.

  They did, absorbed into the games, lights, and jazzy music that was the gaming floor. When they cleared, Estelle stood there, looking back at Jason alone in the elevator.

  The twinge in his chest returned, and this time he couldn’t ignore what it was; but this time, as Estelle stepped into the car and pushed the button to close the door, Jason knew what the feeling in his chest was.

  She was still in the ruby red dress, and she placed her hands on his chest and stood on tiptoe to reach his ear.

  “I want to go home with you,” she said, her voice light, low, seeming to slip beneath his skin without sound.

  He looked to her, feeling the tension in his chest dissolve as her fingers touched gently on him. Impulsively, he gathered her closer into his arms.

  “I want you, too,” he said, feeling a sense of burgeoning desire he had never felt before. Her loveliness seemed to possess him now, a river of lust and deep feeling made him suddenly take a deep breath, as if to try and hold the floodgates back.

  She looked at him and smiled as though she knew that the depth of his passion was now remotely touching the power of her own.

  That night the moon clouded over, lending an opaque thickness to the skies of Las Vegas, as if in an attempt to blanket the artificial lights beaming from The Strip and its lines of casinos and hotels. The cover of dark stretched far, over Jason’s house on the perimeter of the city where the marquees and billboards ended.

  In Jason’s bedroom the light was different. The moonlight didn’t reach inside the Venetian blinds turned shut. The room was furnished in understated walnut and brass elegance, a masculine flavor to the décor that begged for a woman’s lighter hand.

  Jason sat in his bathrobe and flannel pajama bottoms beside the blue and gray dressed bed. The filtered light of the nightstand lamp on the lowest setting illuminated Estelle still sleeping in bed. He’d pulled the cushioned chair closer to the bedside, watching her sleep.

  He had awaked to disturbing dreams, something less than nightmare quality, but disrupting enough to make him too restless to go back to sleep. They weren’t memorable; just a lingering, troubling feeling gnawing at his stomach.

  He watched her with fascination. Bathed in the faint light, Estelle’s soft shoulders and neck seemed to glow, her skin subtly fluctuating between transparency and real flesh, as if she were fading in and out of tangible visibility. A few times when she moved slightly in sleep, beneath he
r lavender camisole edging he could actually see through her skin, the live tissue becoming transparent enough that he saw her beating heart.

  He could hear it, too.

  The strong beat of her heart seemed thundering loud, like his had been in the corridor at the casino earlier. Oddly, however, she didn’t appear to him to be hurt. She didn’t cry out in pain, didn’t move fitfully in her sleep; merely seemed to be resting. Sleeping.

  Perhaps stabilizing, he thought, watching her now solidified chest move as she breathed. After a few more moments he realized his heartbeat had aligned to hers, beating in unison, as if calling to each other.

  Her hair lay in disarray over the light gray pillow, some of the curls relaxing into waves. She stirred, her fingers closing over the blue sheets.

  He leaned forward as she turned her face to him. “Why are you sitting there, Jason?”

  He wasn’t sure he should voice his concerns. “Your body is...well, fading in and out, Estelle.”

  She smiled, turning more toward him in the bed, drawing up one knee, seeing his eyes go to the curve it made at her hip under the sheets. “It’s natural. It will go away. In a few months, I’ll be fine.”

  He sighed, eyes returning to her face. “I’m not fine, Estelle. I had terrible dreams.” He didn’t detail the particulars of the dreams, not wanting to recall the horror he could remember of them. Besides, they were mostly residual feelings of dread, not concrete recollections. He reached for her hand at the bed edge. “I feel darkness.”

  “Should I have not come?” Her fingers rested on his, and the pounding of heartbeats in unison lessened, still audible, but somehow lower.

  “Estelle,” he said after a moment, watching her fingers curl on the sheet, “I love you so much that my whole body craves you,” he admitted, finally putting it in words, surprising her and himself with the statement. It was true, he knew; he’d only just now admitted that, even to himself. He wasn’t sure when it had started, perhaps the night at the roulette table. “Every part of me yearns for you. My arms, my skin, my breath, my very mind. But when I touch you,” he said, frowning as her smile grew, “sometimes, you’re like vapor. Unreal.”