Home > Death's Excellent Vacation (Sookie Stackhouse #9.5)(2)

Death's Excellent Vacation (Sookie Stackhouse #9.5)(2)
Author: Charlaine Harris

"Do whatever you like during the day. There's a shuttle that runs between the casinos, so you can go to whichever one you like. There are shops, and there are restaurants. If you notice a show you'd like to see, book us for the first one after dark. After that, we'll run our errand. " "Okay. I think I'll turn in, then. " You notice I didn't ask about the errand? That was because I wanted to enjoy myself the next day. I'd find out soon enough what Eric wanted us to do. It couldn't be too bad, right? He was my lover and Pam's boss. On the other hand, he was frighteningly practical about taking care of himself. No, I told myself. He wouldn't risk both of us. At the same time. "Good night, Sookie. " She gave me a cold kiss on the cheek.

Chapter Two

"Have a good time, " I said faintly. She smiled, happy at having startled me. "I plan on it. There are plenty of us here. I'll go . . . Network. " Pam would always rather hang with her own kind than grub around with "breathers. " It took me all of ten minutes to unpack and get ready for bed. I crawled in. It was a king, and I felt lost in the middle of it. It would be more fun if Eric were here. I pushed the thought away and turned on the television. I could watch a movie on pay-per-view, I discovered. But if I paid specially for a movie, I'd feel obliged to stay up. Instead, I found an old Western that I followed for maybe half an hour until my eyes wouldn't stay open anymore. About ten the next day, I was eating a wonderful breakfast at a buffet that was as long as the Merlotte's building. I had sausage and biscuits and gravy, and some chopped fruit so I could say I'd eaten something healthy. I also drank three cups of excellent coffee. This was a great way to start the day, and no dishes to do afterward. That was the kind of vacation I could appreciate.

I retreated to my room to brush my teeth, and then I went outside to catch the bus. The sky was overcast, and the temperature was as unnaturally warm as it had been the day before. One of the valet-parking attendants told me where the shuttle bus would pick me up to take me to the other casinos, and I waited for it with a stout couple from Dyersburg, Tennessee, who had cornered the market on chattiness. They'd won some money the night before, their son was going to the University of Memphis, they were Baptists but their pastor liked to visit the boats (all the casinos were theoretically boats, since casinos couldn't be built on solid land) so that made a little gambling okay. Since I was young and alone, these two decided I was applying for a job at the casinos.

They assured me someone as young and perky and pretty as me would have no trouble. "Now, don't you go to that bad place north of here!" the woman said, with mock admonishment. "What place would that be?" "Henry, close your ears, " she told her husband. Henry good- naturedly pretended to hold his hands over his ears. "There's what's called a gentleman's club up there, " she said in a stage whisper. "Though what someone calling himself a gentleman would be doing there, I don't know. " I didn't say that I was pretty sure real gentlemen had sex urges, too, because I understood what she meant. "So it's a strip club?" Mrs. Dyersburg said, "My Lord, I don't know what all goes on in a place like that.

I won't ever see the inside of one, you can bet. Listen, our oldest son is twenty-four, and he's single, got a good job. You dating anyone?" Then, thank God, the bus came. Whatever casino the Dyersburgs chose, I'd pick another one. Luckily, they got off pretty quickly, so I waited to disembark at Bally's. I went in, to be assaulted by the newly familiar chiming and clicking of slot machines. I saw a sign for a huge buffet. I got a discount coupon immediately from a smiling older woman with elaborate brown hair and lots of gold jewelry. There were three restaurants in Bally's, and I could eat till I popped at any one of them, according to the material on the coupon. I wondered how much of an appetite I could work up playing a slot machine. Out of sheer curiosity I walked over to an empty machine, looked at it carefully while I worked out what to do, fed it one of my hard-earned dollars, and pulled the lever. There, I felt it--a distinct frisson of excitement. Then my dollar was lost for good. Was I willing to spend my money on that thrill? No. I wandered around for a while, looking at the people who were so intent on what they were doing that they never glanced at me, or smiled. The casino employees, on the other hand, were full of good cheer. Over the course of the day, thanks to the shuttle, I discovered that all the casinos were basically the same. The "decor" changed, the staff uniforms were different colors, the layout might vary a bit, but the noise level and the gambling facilities . . .

Those were constant. I had lunch at yet another casino in the middle of the afternoon. Each casino seemed to have two or three places to eat. I decided I couldn't face another buffet. I made my way to the lower-priced restaurant that offered menus. When I tired of people-watching, I pulled out the paperback I carried in my purse. At the casino after that, I had to fend off a persistent admirer, a man missing an important front tooth. He wore his hair pulled back in a long, graying ponytail. He was sure we could have some fun together, and I was just as sure we could not. I got back on the shuttle. I returned to Harrah's with a feeling of relief. I'd seen lots of new things, including a riverboat and a golf course, but all in all the casinos seemed kind of sad to me. The gamblers weren't people like you see in James Bond movies, rich people dressed to the nines who could afford losing. Some of the people I'd seen today didn't look like they could afford to waste even ten dollars. But I had to admit, they'd seemed to be having a good time, and after all, that was the point of a vacation. It was lovely to shut the door of my room and enjoy the silence. I threw myself down on the bed and closed my eyes. It wouldn't be long until Pam rose. Sure enough, she knocked on the door thirty minutes later. "Did you get some tickets?" she asked.

"Hi, Pam, good to see you. Yes, I had an interesting day, " I said. "I got us tickets to the Mucho Macho contest. " "What?" "It's a strongman competition. I wasn't sure you'd like any of the music acts. The groups I actually knew, they were all sold out for tonight. So I got tickets to see big strong guys. I thought you'd like that? You like guys too, right?" "I like men, " Pam agreed guardedly. "Well, we have an hour before the show, " I said. "You want to go get some warm blood?" "Yes, " she said, and followed me to the elevator, still looking dubious. While Pam drank a couple of bottles of TrueBlood Type A, I had a bowl of ice cream. (Calories don't count while you're on vacation. ) Then we went to the casino next door to watch the Mucho Macho contestants do their manly thing. I got to say, I really enjoyed it: muscular guys lifting heavy weights, swinging big hammers, pulling farm equipment with their teeth. No, I'm just kidding about the teeth. They used a rope harness. It was like monster trucks, but with men. Even Pam got into the spirit, yelling encouragement to Billy Bob the Brawler from Yazoo City as he harnessed up for his second attempt to move the tractor a yard across the floor. Of course, Pam herself could have done it easily. She got a call on her cell phone as we were leaving the show. "Yes, Eric. Oh, we've just finished watching big, muscular, sweaty men move large things around. Sookie's idea. " Her eyes went sideways to meet mine. She grinned at me. "I'm sure you could, Eric. You could probably do it without your hands!" She laughed. Whatever Eric said next got her serious attention. "All right, then. We'll go now. " She handed the phone to me. I didn't like the compressed lips and narrowed eyes. Something was up. "Hey, " I said. I felt a surge of lust down to my toenails just knowing that Eric was on the other end of the connection. "I miss you, " he said. I pictured him in his office at Fangtasia, the nightclub he and Pam owned. He'd be sitting in his leather office chair, his thick golden hair falling in a waving curtain past his shoulders, and he'd be wearing a T-shirt and jeans. Eric had been a Viking, and he looked like it. "I miss you, too, " I whispered. I knew he could hear me. He could hear a cricket fart at twenty paces.

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