Thank you for all my readers and especially the reviewers. Cant believe this is still going strong. I hope you see the irony in this chapter. I want lots of reviews...please (can't believe I'm stooping to begging). Anyway, here goes....

Chapter 29

Las Vegas

XXX

"Welcome to the Four Season's Suites. How many in your party?"

"Two," Darry told her. "Is Kelly here, by chance?" I looked at him. He was up to something, I just didn't know what.

"Yes..." she said, then called behind her into an open back door, "Kelly!"

A moment later a blond twenty something came out. "I'm Kelly, what can I do for you?"

"I'm Darrel Curtis. I called you a few weeks ago concerning my brother Ponyboy... remember?"

She must have. Her color faded and the fake smile on her face waned. Her eyes said TRAPPED, but she recovered and nodded her head. I missed that call, but it had to have been impressive if she's about to lose her lunch from the mere memory of my brother's voice on the phone. I tried to hide my smile, thinking it funny.

"I'd like the same room he stayed in, and I need to see his registration card from that night."

We had driven all night and half the morning to get here to find the casino he gambled in and the hotel he stayed at, hoping someone would remember him and help point the way for us to find him. We left the guys at the house to watch over things.

Kelly came back from the office and handed Darry a fresh registration card. Under it was something she was trying to hide but I don't know from whom. Darry obviously saw it. Her eyes pleaded for an understanding that I didn't get. He filled out the top registration card, paid the room fare and got the key, pocketing the other paper as if nothing was unusual.

"Come on, Soda." He got our bags and ushered me along. Once behind the closed door of the room, he sat on the bed and took the form out of his pocket. I looked at him, confused, and went to his side to see this mysterious piece of paper for myself.

"It's Ponyboy's registration form," he explained. "She checked him in, and I read her the riot act over the phone about him being a minor. Could have cost her her job. Told her I wanted to see this when I came by, glad she remembered."

P.M. Curtis....Address listed: 912 Sycamore Street, Tulsa, Oklahoma. Darry looked at me.

"Johnny's address, 'member, Darry?"

"Oh yeah."

I looked at it some more, recognizing his scrawl. He put down all Johnny's information, phone number and everything as his own. There was nothing new from it we could use to find him. We came all this way for nothing.

The room was typical, one queen bed among assorted pieces of typical hotel furniture. I looked in the desk and found stationary and envelopes that matched what he'd mailed to Darry. I put my head down.

"You didn't expect this to be that easy, did you Soda?" Darry was looking at me across the room.

"I was hoping it would be."

Darry came over to me at the desk, rubbing the tension out of my own shoulders for a change.

"Hungry?" He asked.

"Yeah, but I don't want any Vegas crap. Too expensive and too loud."

"I saw a small diner a couple of miles out of town. Lets go there, eat and regroup. Then we'll try the casino.

I nodded my head. This is gonna be a bust, I just know it but I got up and followed him out to the truck.

XXX

"Welcome boys! Sit where you like!"

This place was old, as if time stopped a decade ago but no one thought to tell the occupants. Soda and I slid in a booth while the waitress brought over menu's and glasses of water.

"I'll give you boys time to decide. Just let me know when you're ready!" She smiled at us and went back to the counter.

"Place needs an update, don't ya think, Darry?" Soda was snickering. There was an elderly couple a few rows over, but other than that the place was empty.

"Hush it, Soda." But I agreed. Even the Dingo back home was more up to date than this. Oh well. "We came here for food, not to redecorate. Whacha want?"

"Just a sandwich, you?"

"Same." I motioned for the waitress to come over, she saw me and was at the table an instant later.

"Well, boys, what can I get ya?"

Soda closed his menu, handing it back to her. "Bacon, lettuce and tomato sandwich. Toast the bread. Fries on the side. Extra crispy bacon, please, if you got it. Pepsi to drink."

"I'll have a burger, all the trimmings, fries too, and a Pepsi as well. Thanks."

She wasn't writing anything down, but stared at Soda a minute, not moving a muscle, as if frozen. Here we go again, another woman fawning over my brother. He got all the looks, I got all the muscle, but for heavens sake this woman was almost old enough to be our mother. A second later she just smiled and went to the kitchen, calling our order back to the cook and putting the menu's back with the others.

I noticed she gave us more than the typical number of glances we usually receive in a diner. I didn't understand why she would be jumpy. If Steve were here, then I could figure it. Steve lives with a permanent pissed off look on his face. Only when you know him do you realize it's his natural look. He ain't pissed at all – usually. The food was ready soon and she brought it to us.

"Where ya from?" She asked, still looking at Soda.

"Oklahoma," Soda responded.

As soon as the word left his mouth, one of the Pepsi's slipped from her hand, splattering all over the table.

"Oh heavens, I'm so sorry, boys!" She pulled out a cloth and mopped up the mess. Once everything was back to normal, she got a fresh Pepsi and brought it out. Now she just looked flustered. Hell, it was just a drink and nothing was ruined, no reason to be so jumpy!

"You okay, ma'am?" I asked her.

"Fine, fine. Y'all out here on business or pleasure?"

"Business. Thanks." I turned back to Soda and watched him break up that bacon, same way Pony did every time he had it, into smaller and smaller pieces. Always bugged me. Don't know where they picked that habit up, but they both did it. "Didn't mom ever tell you not to play with your food?" He just scowled at me and kept right on breaking up the bacon.

Even the waitress was bothered by it. She went behind the counter and then escaped into the back.

"Hope you don't want any more Pepsi, you just scared off the waitress with your antics."

"Hell, Darry, next drink she brings out I might end up wearing it!" He chuckled.

"Okay, where's that casino?"

XXX

We talked, ate, and finally finished eating and the waitress eventually returned to our table.

"Anything else, boys?" She asked. She stared at me intently as if searching my face. To be honest, she was creeping me out. First she burns her retina's oogling Soda like every other teenage girl used to at the DX, then she gives me a stare down. Hope she ain't thinking she's gonna get lucky with one of us, cause she sure as hell ain't my type and I'm pretty sure Soda ain't that desperate either.

"No, I think we're done here. How much we owe ya?"

"$5.50 even."

I pulled out some money and handed it to her. "Keep the change," I called as Soda and I started to leave. Before I could get in the truck, she was at Soda's side with a receipt. I noticed something scrawled on the back in pencil.

"Thanks, ma'am," he said, putting the receipt down on the seat.

I started the engine and drove off back toward Vegas. "Hell, man, you got 40 year old women throwing their phone numbers at you! Have you no shame! What does this one say?"

Soda picked it up and read it out loud. "I know what you are searching for. Call me. Signed Carolyn Waters (###-####)."

"Buddy, I don't think she's your type!"

"No kidding! Yikes!" Soda grinned as he bawled up the receipt and tossed it out the window into the arid Nevada landscape.

XXX

We parked the truck back at the hotel and walked over to the Royal Casinos. Soda and I showed our ID's at the door and walked over to the woman in the cashiers cage.

"Is Taylor here?" I asked her. She picked up a phone and spoke to someone on the other end. Soda and I just exchanged glances, and finally a tall guy showed up.

"Hi, I'm Taylor. What can I do for you?"

"I spoke with you on the phone about my sixteen year old brother, Ponyboy. He won money here, I'm just trying to find anything else that may lead me to him."

"Ah yes, Mr. Curtis...why don't you come with me. And you are?" He asked, looking at Soda.

"Sodapop Curtis. Real name. Middle brother. We appreciate your help."

"Not a problem. However, once folks leave here with money we can't chase them down... unless they steal it, and he didn't steal it."

He was leading us back into a far off office where cameras and television screens filled a wall. I'd heard about an "eye in the sky" in casinos, but even I didn't expect this. It was truely impressive.

"I think you might find this interesting," he said as he pushed a button and a grainy image appeared in front of us.

Soda grabbed my arm as we watched our youngest brother on the monitor put in coin after coin until he slid in a dollar, pushed a button and lights started flashing in front of him as money started pouring out.

"That your brother?" asked Taylor.

"Yes," said Soda, stepping closer to the screen as if to touch it.

"When you called, I pulled up the archived footage. I wanted to see who he was, know what he looked like so if he came back, I could keep him out. He must have a very good fake ID, a real convincing one. He sure doesn't look eighteen on this footage.

Soda turned to him, a spark of anger laying below the surface of his face. "He's sixteen."

"I know, Mr. Curtis. I meant nothing bad by it."

Soda turned back to see our brother again. He touched the screen this time, I could tell he wanted to reach into the image and pull him out. I did too, but knew it wouldn't do any good. It was only a television screen, after all.

"Thank you, Taylor, for your help. If you see him or if that check surfaces, please call me as soon as possible."

"I will. Mr. Curtis..." he was talking to Soda, who finally pulled his eyes away and focused on Taylor again. "This town is full of people who dream to hit it big in a short time. Just about all of them go home less than they were when they got here. For whatever reason, call it divine providence if you will, your brother left out of here with a substantial amount of wealth. That's better than luck. Someone up there is looking out for him. I do hope you find him."

Soda looked at him, then held out his hand. "Please call us if you see or hear anything about him." Taylor shook Soda's hand, then shook mine.

"I will."

XXX

One further note...I don't know when casinos started recording people who gamble, but I know they had film then (reference the JFK assasination 1963), so I just needed to have a little creative allowance. I hope this doesn't tick off too many of my readers. Thanks for your understanding.

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