The Thrice Born Read online

  He sighed, sitting back in the chair with his glass of orange juice and tonic. It was another day of life at the casino and his moments away from the lure and laughter of the game floor seemed lonelier than usual.

  He took a long drink of the juice. Even Benjamin didn’t understand. Never had a woman made so big of an impact on him in such a short time. And there had been woman, and moments.

  He finished the juice, glancing to his jacket on the hanger at his valet rack. He’d intended on taking a short nap after an afternoon workout at the dojo, but neither of those options had been realized.

  The melting ice cubes rattled in the glass as he shook it, his mind drifting over the last twelve hours.

  Maybe Corky and all his conspiracy contraptions could re-manifest Estelle for him.

  She was still on his mind late that afternoon and into the early evening. Jason spent most of that time not looking for Estelle. He made his usual rounds, checking in with the pit boss and dealers, keeping an ear out, as usual, for any suspicious activity on the tables, wheels, or machines. Everything was in order. Nothing amiss.

  Corky and his hot entity readings were gone.

  In hindsight, Jason knew he could have let Estelle go, let her walk out with nearly a quarter million of his money; he’d make it up. The casino always did. Of course, then she’d be back, looking for those easy pickings again.

  He stood at the balcony that overlooked the slot machines. They were buzzing with eager patrons, some trying to press their luck, others hoping to win back their mortgage payment they’d gambled away.

  Benjamin climbed the brass and chrome curving staircase to where Jason stood and joined him. He looked out over the floor, satisfied that the roulette table was now running correctly, no sign of any cheating to be seen.

  Someone pulled a win at the slot machines, a minor payout, but enough to make the elderly man there raise both hands in celebration. The mood was infective, and soon the winner had a crowd around him of instant friends.

  Benjamin glanced to Jason, estimating his dour mood that he knew had nothing to do with the slot machine’s payday. “What the hell is wrong with you?” he asked, knowing full well what the issue was plaguing the casino owner.

  Jason looked to him, frowning.

  Benjamin made a sweeping gesture with his hand over the game floor, the movement taking in several beautiful women in lavish designer dresses. “Oh, my God, Jason! You could have any woman in Vegas! Any of them. They’d crawl to you. I can’t believe you’re pining over a woman like that.”

  He didn’t need to explain who that was. Jason knew.

  “Shut up, Benjamin.”

  The floor manager sent an irritated hand through his sparse hair. “Well, I shouldn’t tell you,” he mumbled, “but I know where your true love is.”

  Jason glanced to him, gaze sharpening.

  Benjamin shrugged with a chuckle. “She’s bumming for dimes about two blocks away.”

  Estelle wasn’t hard to find in the growing arid warmth of the Las Vegas dusk. Jason took his time strolling the sidewalk, his mind replaying the events of the day and previous night. He loosened his shirt, a new one he’d changed into after his respite in his lounge earlier. It was the same jacket, and he’d opted for it after discovering his valet wardrobe only contained the warmer tweeds at the moment.

  In the shadow of The Crib Casino and Hotel the transients moved, cups and hats in hand, begging, whining, each with a same yet equally sad story. Jason hated to think of Estelle among them.

  A skateboarder whizzed by him, the teen boy’s agility working among the pedestrians and vagrants. Jason watched as the youth deftly moved, skill and speed giving him an advantage in the slowly shifting crowd. Then his attention moved to a black form working the corner of the street. Estelle’s graceful silhouette was back in the dirty black robe, her hair still a little more polished and sleek.

  Jason growled down a few choice words. In her hand he easily recognized the mug’s logo from where he stood. He knew it read The Crib Casino in stylish gold letters. His steps quickened.

  Before he could reach Estelle, the skateboarder did. The youth glanced at her and then spun off into an alley. At least that was his intention. Before Jason’s very eyes he saw the skateboard make a sudden about-face, putting him back in front of Estelle, on his feet. The teen locked eyes on her, a new fear gripping him, and then collected his rolling skateboard and jumped onto it; he dodged into the alley running by the side of the buildings.

  Jason was about to call to her, but Estelle followed the boy quickly. Sensing something more than trouble, Jason broke into a run.

  By the time he got to the alley, his senses were making another slip.

  In the alley the skateboarder dashed, flipping expertly to one side to avoid a cat, and then his board lifted higher, and suspended there in midair over a garbage can.

  Jason’s attention shot to the black form of Estelle. She stood in the alley, her back to him, her gaze on the teen suspended, as if frozen, in the air. The boy looked back at Estelle, unable to voluntarily move, but still shaking in fear. She walked up to him, casually unbuckled his belt at his stylish, sagging pants, and flipped up his loose shirttail.

  Jason stepped to one side of the alley, watching as if mesmerized. He saw Estelle slip a small tin cup – the tin cup he’d seen her begging with the previous time – from where it was attached by the handle to the belt, and then refasten the belt at the teen’s waistband.

  The action, the control, the blonde woman seemed to have over him and gravity, brought a new shaking to the youth’s limbs.

  His shaking got the better of him, and he toppled from his invisible hold. He rolled to the ground in a pile of elbows, knees, and skateboard at the garbage can, and quickly scooted away, wincing from scrapes.

  Jason was about to call out a warning to Estelle as she moved closer to the teen, but stopped himself. There was something at work here he couldn’t quite detect, and from the looks of matters, Estelle was in no danger from them.

  She leaned to the boy, her smile evident even from Jason’s covert view at the alley entrance. She stroked the teen’s hair, as a mother would comfort a child, and then straightened and left down the opposite end of the alley.

  The boy scrambled to his feet, collected his board, and dashed away through a secondary side alley.

  Jason stood immobile, watching Estelle as she turned the far end of the alley. He pressed a hand to his chest where his racing heart was thumping madly, a surreal feeling washing over him. What he’d just witnessed was far more than a donut box parlor trick.

  He caught up with Estelle a moment later as she made another turn at the end of the alley that would circle her around to her former spot on the sidewalk where she’d been begging.

  “Hey,” he called as she paused, hearing – or perhaps sensing – his nearness.

  She turned.

  “How’d you do that?”

  Estelle didn’t speak, the tin cup dangling from her hand, which now also still held the casino mug.

  He looked to each of the cups. “Why are you begging again?”

  She searched his eyes in turn.

  “Oh, for God’s sakes, let me put you up in the hotel,” he said when she remained silent. “At least for a couple of weeks.”

  She shook her head. “Why would you do that?” There was no malice in her voice. “You think I’m a crook.”

  “I don’t know what you are, Estelle,” he said, truly meaning it. “But you were honest enough...”

  She lowered her head, a soft sobbing starting as her face filled with hurt. She wiped her cheek with the back of her free hand, sniffling.

  Jason felt worse than after a double roundhouse kick to the chest. He reached for the handkerchief in the inside pocket of his jacket. “Don’t do that, Estelle.”

  He handed her the blue silk handkerchief, and then looked again as something fell from its confines. The small pendant she’d given him on their initial meeting drop
ped to the ground. He picked it up as she took the handkerchief. This time he examined the trinket closer.

  It was gold, a gold angel, but not like the ones he’d seen in any church. It had an austere beauty, the detailing of the exquisite metalwork precise, like something from a treasure box. He put it back in his jacket pocket, looking to Estelle as she wiped her eyes.

  “Tell me, Estelle, is your revisiting these grounds something related to me? Because I know what you said before you stomped out of the restaurant. Is this really a personal thing with you? I don’t even know you. Do you….?

  He didn’t even know how to finish his question.

  She composed herself, looking to him fully, nodding. “I’ve always, always...”

  He smiled. “Always is a long time. I think you mean a few days, at most.”

  She shook her head, the streetlights playing over her hair softly. “Always, Jason. Always. Always.” She smiled, a giggle in her tone. “You’re so dense, Jason. Always means always. Forever.”

  There was something in her tone that rang of etherealness. He chuckled, mostly to set himself at ease. “We’re not trying to drag reincarnation into this, are we?” Somehow the notion didn’t seem quite as farfetched as when Corky was in full-blown conspiracy mode. Jason gave the topic more serious consideration. “But you know, I used to know this girl –”

  “Yes, yes,” she said eagerly. “Emily, from Brooklyn. The one with the thick eyebrows.”

  It was Jason’s second mental kick to the chest. “How on Earth did you know about ... about Emily?”

  “Fool’s gold.” She smiled, her tears gone. “How stupid can you be?”

  He nodded, mind working in a more orthodox manner again. “Did you do a background check on me?”

  Estelle laughed, a delightful sound in the alley that competed with the pedestrian traffic and music floating from the casino. “On your silly girlfriend’s pretend reincarnation experience?” she smiled more. “You are the Thrice-born, Jason,” she said, her voice taking on a melodious yet somehow grave tone, “and you believe in nothing?”

  Somehow the words echoed at an odd angle inside his head. He shook himself mentally. “What do you mean by Thrice-born? I have only been born once, Estelle,” he said, realigning himself to the reality he knew best. “You can be sure of that.” He chuckled. “You only live once.”

  Her gaze dropped to the tie at her robe. For a moment her fingers played with the black ends, slow movements that made Jason give pause to her allegations.

  The top of her hair was under his chin, every movement of her head making a soft scent stir, something that didn’t rely on perfumes and artificial cosmetics. Something, he knew, that was her. “Oh, my God, Estelle,” he said with a sigh, gesturing to the robe. “Look how you’re dressed. Let me get you a room. It’ll give you some time to pull yourself together. You don’t have to con me, you know,” he added as she looked up to him. A small smile played at her lips, but it wasn’t the manipulative type; more like a knowing hint. Something that he was supposed to know, but didn’t. “I’ll still like you, even dressed in this.” He said with a small grin.

  Now she smiled fuller, drawing out the best in him.

  He nodded down the street toward the casino. “God help me.”

  The roulette table was behaving obediently that evening under Jason and Benjamin’s watchful eyes. The crowd gathered around it were occasionally winning – enough to keep them there and betting – and the ratio of win-to-loss was normal.

  Jason had seen little of normal lately, since Estelle had darkened the casino doorway, but for a reason he couldn’t quite pinpoint, he didn’t mind. Usually abnormal anything in the casino was impending trouble, but the kind of abnormal that had come with Estelle with No-Last-Name was welcome.

  Benjamin didn’t see it that way. He shook his head, a movement that made the overhead lights catch his balding dome at a bad angle. “You put her up in the hotel?” He’d already asked the question twice, but this time he really wanted to know why, not if. “Really? After running –”

  “It’s the least I could do,” Jason said, not looking to the shorter man. “She did return our money.”

  “I wouldn’t want to draw any conclusions from it,” Benjamin said after a moment. “Maybe she’s part of a tag team, or worse. And you’re being taken, Jason. Ever think of that?” He didn’t expect an answer, and didn’t get one. He sighed, his tone softening as he watched a plump woman at the roulette table giggle and squeal when she won a small round. “But, hell, I should understand,” he finally said. “I’ve been in love before. If that’s what this is.”

  “You?” Jason was genuinely surprised. What he knew of some of his closest staff was what they allowed him to know – aside from background and criminal checks. He didn’t like his life pried into, and he gave emotional space to those on the upper echelon of his staff. But still, he was surprised. “I thought you had a heart of stone.”

  Benjamin made half a shrug. “I wish I had, particularly after I gave her the house, the car, full custody, and promised never to call her except Saturdays when I got to see the kids for fifteen minutes.”

  “I never knew you were married.” Jason considered the floor manager for a moment in this new light.

  “Neither did I, not in the usual manner,” he said. “But I guess the term ‘common law’ hasn’t lost its legitimacy with the courts. I was a lousy husband,” he admitted, a more jaded flavor to his voice now. “Used to drink. Hang around places like this. The whole works.”

  Jason knew exactly what Benjamin was talking about. He’d seen it happen before among the casino patrons. He let his gaze wander over the hub of smiling faces that populated the game floor. Amid the flowing liquor and laughter would be those players who shouldn’t be there, who couldn’t afford to be there, the ones that were losing the mortgage, the car payment, their children’s college funds. Those were the ones who should not be there; gambling, as he’d told Fawna, could teach character, but only if the players could be taught.

  He glanced to Benjamin. He hadn’t known the floor man when he’d been married, but he wondered for a brief moment. Obviously Benjamin had the fortitude to right his personal wrongs. “Yeah, I know what you mean,” he said, looking back out over the floor before Benjamin could turn his attention. “Never would have guessed that about you.”

  Benjamin feigned interest in the plump woman who was laughing with the thin man to her side. “We’ve all got our pasts, you know.”

  Jason nodded. Already his mind was drifting to Estelle, where it usually stayed since she’d monopolized his roulette table. “True.”

  Estelle was still on Jason’s mind late the next morning as he shaved. The house was quiet around him, few sounds from the main floor and manicured lawn reaching the upstairs bathroom where he stared back at his reflection in the mirror. The house was always quiet in the morning. The cleaning staff and housekeeper were gone. He only had the housekeeper, Marita, a stout German woman in her forties, actually in-house for a few days a week, mainly to oversee the cleaning staff.

  He drew the razor blade down his cheek, gathering foam against the taut skin as he angled the sharp edge. Too many quick shaves at the casino caught up with him, and he took his time, spending a little extra care on his grooming.

  It had nothing to do with Estelle, he promised himself, rinsing the blade under the warm running water in the sink basin.

  Nothing to do with the spike in pulse rate she brought to his veins.

  He shook the razor; he was spending far too much brain power over a woman who could very well be one of the cleverer cheaters on The Strip. He finished shaving and tapped out the razor again, and then paused. From the main floor came the sound of someone knocking at the front door. He rinsed his face and wiped it with a towel.

  By the time Jason got to the front door he’d run through the list of anyone who could possibly – or dare to – show up at his private residence unannounced. It was a short list. He opened t
he massive mission-style door to the bright day’s light.

  Estelle stood on the portico, smiling back at him, the sunlight catching her hair in golden tendrils, framing her face like one of his more recent dreams.

  Jason refused his first impulses, instead opting for slight brusqueness. “How’d you find this address? Not even most my staff knows it.”

  Her smile dimmed and her posture slouched a bit. Her hands smoothed the khaki skirt beneath the heather blue blouse. She was combed, a casualness to her make-up, just a touch of blush on her cheeks. She didn’t look past him, as most of the few guests he had in did; she wasn’t eager to see the house’s furnishings, judge his status, estimate his worth. She looked only at him in what was now becoming an almost wounded-looking expression.

  He immediately felt guilty, but kept most of his abrupt nature. “I gave you a room at the hotel and complementary buffet tickets for two weeks. Estelle. It’s a good room and the food there is top notch in Vegas.”

  “I don’t want to eat there,” she said. “I want you to take me out.” More of a hopeful smile came to her eyes. “You want to; I know it. Why do you make me wait?”

  He sighed, one hand on the thick black walnut door. He saw her eyes go over him briefly, with appreciation. He figured it was the first time she’d seen him without a jacket and slacks, but she didn’t seem disappointed by the charcoal Dockers and gray t-shirt. He relented to a grin. “You’re very beautiful, Estelle. I could easily lose my perspective.”

  She smiled, this time past hopeful, more along expectant. “And what, indeed, is your perspective?”

  “I’m inclined to help a very strange down-and-out young lady out of the goodness of my heart,” he said, putting a hand to his chest, seeing her giggle at the motion, “with no ulterior motives.”

  “How very gallant.” She stood straighter, nodding. “I don’t see how it would keep you from taking me to dinner.”

  He shook his head, liking the way she’d sought him out. “It’s not even time for lunch yet.”