Chapter Three: "Morton Rainey!"

As they come out into the airport at Las Vegas, they are approached by a woman of about twenty.

"Are you Morton Rainey?" she asks, Mort smiles and nods the affirmative. "Will you sign a book for me? I know I've got one in my bag somewhere," and with that she delves into a rather large hand luggage bag, babbling about how much she enjoys Mort's writing and how she wishes her mother were here because she loves him too. In fact she doesn't surface for air until she finds the book, at the bottom of the bag.

"Could we move over here? I think we're holding people up," says Mort, as kindly as he can, noticing that the airport had practically ground to a halt behind her.

"Alright, here we are," she hands over a rather old, battered copy of Everyone Drops the Dime.

"What's your name?" asks Mort.

"Simone, with an e," she says, as Mort scribbles in the front of her book. "In fact, you're doing a booksigning here tomorrow, aren't you? I was going to go to that, but seeing as I've met you now it doesn't really matter does it? Of course, I haven't just come to Las Vegas for that, I'm meeting up with an old friend who works in one of the casino's and she's got a few days off, so it's going to be really good. I'm sorry, I'm babbling. Is this your agent?"

"This is my agent, and wife, Clementine," introduces Mort, glad to have the attention away from him. At the word 'wife' Simone's face promptly fell like a sack of potatoes.

"Oh, I didn't know you were married," she says. And that killed the conversation, which was a good thing for Mort and Clementine. Simone wished them a good stay in Las Vegas and disappeared back into the crowd.

"I think you've got an admirer there," says Clementine as they walk out of the airport into the sticky heat of Nevada. A taxi pulled up and they got inside with their baggage.

In the Silver Sunset hotel, Mort was stopped again to sign the back of a dollar bill, and again. When at last they were checked in and in their rather plush hotel room, Clementine became her usual bossy work counterpart and began talking about the time they had to get up.

"Clementine, you are not my boss, I will get up in time, now shhhh," says Mort and lays down on the bed. Clementine sits down on the bed also.

"Mr. Rainey, while we are here I am your agent and therefore your boss, and I will be treated with respect," she says, playfully.

"Oh yeah?" Mort asks, tackling her onto the bed and lying atop of her. "And what's my boss going to do now?"

"Your boss is going to ask you nicely if you will remove yourself, and, if you don't, your boss might have to resort to more drastic measures."

"And what might they be?" asks Mort. Clementine doesn't answer, instead, tickles him round his waist and he immediately moves, laughing, and then he kisses her.

"What does it feel like to kiss your boss, Mr. Rainey?" asks Clementine, with a serious look on her face.

"It feels great."

So, after kissing on the bed for a while, Mort asks Clementine if she feels ready to go down to dinner, and she does, so they both dress in their poshest attire and descend the stairs to the dinner hall of the Silver Sunset. Pleasantly, Mort is not recognized and he and Clementine enjoy a quiet meal, uninterrupted by the woman in the very white, very space-consuming wedding dress, nor the character dressed as Darth Vader on a movie fanbase holiday, and they find it very amusing when the stoutly gentleman in sixteenth century dress pulls a cell phone from a pocket.

But, they were recognized when they were just about to catch the elevator.

"Morton!"

"Oh God, Simon? Simone? What's her name?" asks Mort.

"Simone, yeah," replies Clementine.

"Hey, Simone!" calls Mort, and Simone comes over.

"Hey, this is the casino my friend works at, might see you again, got to dash."

"Do you think she's leaving the casino? Or going gambling?" asks Mort.

"Why? Too scared to leave the hotel room?" Mort gives Clementine his puppy dog eyes.

"Yes."