The house wasn't far; Faith thought she could easily walk it every day. The exterior was similar in appearance to Kyle's, except it was covered in stucco rather than siding. Inside was carpeting about eighteen months past threadbare and ten years past stylish, a living room, a hallway with a bedroom on each side and a bathroom at the end, a small kitchen with a door leading onto a small enclosed porch/mudroom, and a tiny nook too large for a bookcase and too small for a dining room. It was small, but everything looked tidy and squared away. Faith pointed at a large cardboard box just inside the front door.

"What's that?"

Wendi shrugged. "That's Kasey's stuff. We boxed it up for her."

Faith frowned. "She left everything here? She just jetted?"

Wendi added arched eyebrows to the next lift of her shoulders. "Happens more than you'd think."

Cheyanne looked down at the box. "Lotta girls who work at the casino, they think they'll meet the guy who's gonna take them away from small-town boredom."

"Really?" Faith looked out the picture window overlooking the front lawn. "Crowd I saw there didn't look like it had more gray beards than white knights."

"Oh, no, not the floor people." Wendi giggled. "Nobody ever got rescued by a nickel-slot player. It's the whales they're after. Sometimes it works."

Faith turned away from the window. "Whales?"

"The guys who play poker in the private rooms. You know, those doors at the back of the floor?" Wendi made a circular motion with her index finger. "Those are pretty high stakes. The guys who play in those don't mix with the floor population. They all stay up on the fifth floor of the hotel, they have private drink service, their own room in the restaurant. Everybody says they drop serious money."

Cheyanne chipped in. "Kasey worked the private rooms."

"That plan ever work?" Faith asked. "Prince Charming ever sweep Cinderella away?"

Wendi shrugged again. "Sometimes. Mostly girls disappear for a couple weeks, then come back with stories, although Sheri Swopes did get a new Chevy Silverado out of it. Dropped it off in the parking lot, had a big red bow tied on it and everything."

"I can guess what she did to get that," Cheyanne observed.

Faith turned back to the window. "Bang-a-gong, get it on." She looked over her shoulder. "But you said 'sometimes'."

"Well, yeah, sometimes they're just gone and don't come back." Wendi shook her head.

"Well, more power to 'em, I guess." Faith gestured toward the box. "What are you gonna do with her stuff?"

"I d'know… keep it here a couple more weeks, see if she wants us to ship it somewhere."

"That ever happen?" Faith looked at a stereo in a glass-fronted cabinet."

"Never to us." Cheyanne waved a hand toward the hall. "You wanna see the bedroom?"

Faith nodded. "Sure."

The room had two twin beds, each with a three-drawer dresser at the foot. The beds were placed at a 90-degree angle to each other against the exterior walls. A small round occasional table filled the space between them. There was a small closet just inside the doorway.

"We'd have to figure out how to share the closet," Cheyanne said.

Faith shook her head as she stared at the bed, hands on hips. "No big. I don't have anything I hang up." She jerked a thumb toward the dresser. "Probably don't even need that."

Cheyanne grasped her left elbow with her right hand. "If you take it, we don't expect you to be best buds, at least I don't."

Faith nodded. "I can respect that."

"What did you think?" Wendi asked as the Slayer returned to the living room.

"I've seen worse," Faith said. "Lots worse."

"So… you're gonna take it?"

Faith shrugged. "I don't see a lot of options around here."

"Don't bowl us over with compliments."

Faith ignored Cheyanne's comment. "So, do you guys need to talk to Tamra?"

"No, she said that if you wanted it and we thought it was okay, we could make the call." Wendi licked her lips.

The Slayer looked around the living room, at the white walls, the second-hand sofa and loveseat combo, the picture window looking out at the small yard and the street. "Cool. I'll bring my stuff over tomorrow."


"Watch the show tonight," Kyle said.

"What am I looking for?" Faith asked. "We finally find out that she hides the cards in her bra?"

"No," Kyle said. "Watch the way she works it. Tuesdays are interesting… crowd's mostly small-time regulars, lots of people who live in town or within forty-five minutes. They come in on Tuesday, drop ten bucks at the slots or video poker, see the show. They're not high rollers, not at all, but they're regulars and they do drop some cash. Lot of 'em have seen the show, six, seven times."

So Faith watched closely, and Kyle was right: Tuesday Raven was more laid-back, mellower, somehow looking less like a model in tails and fishnets and more like a clean-cut girl playing dress-up in her mom's clothes. The jokes were gentler, the laughter shared. When Raven took her final bow, Faith shook her head and turned. "You're right, she's a pro."

"It's almost spooky." Kyle turned up the house lights and began shutting down the board. "So, uh, I heard that you've found new living arrangements."

"Yeah," Faith said. "I'm out of the hotel after tonight."

Kyle leaned a hip against the board as he faced her. "Where are you staying?"

"Some girls needed a roommate, I needed a room. If we stay out of each other's way, everything'll be gangster's paradise."

"Huh?"

Faith winked. "Coolio."

"Oh, god, that's lame." Kyle rolled his eyes. "So, you took the room with the three amigos?

"Really?" Faith's eyebrows arched.

"Well… there's three of them. Now" Kyle placed the cover over the board and checked his pockets. "I think they're nice, I've never heard anything bad about any of them."

"What about Kasey, the one who bailed?"

"No, she was a sweet kid." Kyle shook his head. "There's just a lot of turnover. Turns out working at a casino is a lot less like Dan Tanna in Vegas and a lot more like Nic Cage in Leaving Las Vegas."

"That was weirdly specific and depressing."

"It's the truth. People think working here will be cool and glamorous, but most of the time it's just another gig." He locked the door before they headed down the stairs. "You need any help moving?"

"Nah, I got one bag and Tamra offered to give me a ride when she gets off work at eleven. What time is it?"

Kyle checked his watch. "Ten-forty-five."

"Plenty of time." Faith gave him a two-finger salute at the theater door. "See you tomorrow." She walked easily to the elevators and was waiting for the car to arrive when she felt a presence behind her to her left, a presence that was really too close. She was in the act of turning when she felt the hand on her ass, a large hand that cupped and squeezed. The Slayer grimaced as she completed her turn to face a man at least eight inches taller than her. He was handsome in a sort of faded-high-school-golden-boy way, the belly beginning to thicken and the firm jawline starting to let go, crow's feet etched into the corners of his eyes, the hair becoming streaked with gray. He wore a dark sport coat over a light-gray polo shirt.

"Hey," he said, "you looking to party?" Surprisingly, no miasma of alcohol fumes accompanied the question, but he wore a spicy, musky cologne that burned Faith's nose and made her eyes water. When he offered a nasty smile, his teeth were unnaturally white and even; he might as well have 'veneers' printed on his upper lip. He was a big guy, if the size of the hand cupping her ass was any indication, a guy who had probably been the quarterback in high school and coasted on that ever since.

"Not really," Faith said, "and if you like your hand and want to take it home with you, you better move it."

"Ooh, feisty." His voice was thick and rough as he shifted his hand and re-established his grip. His face tightened and a mean light glittered in his eyes. "What are you gonna do… bitch?" His hand squeezed.

Faith gave a small nod as she reached back. The nasty grin that appeared on his face said that he was looking forward to a little fight; it disappeared as Faith grabbed his thumb and bent it back and out as she pirouetted. She rotated her shoulder; his hand was forced up and back, turning his wrist back on itself as the torque on his shoulder bent him forward. The Slayer stepped up behind him, bringing his hand along for the ride, and ended holding his wrist between his shoulder blades. It was just below her eye level as he sputtered and swore softly. The bell dinged and the elevator door slid open. Faith pushed, propelling him into the car ahead of her. His sport coat bunched up under his arms.

"What's your floor?" she hissed in his ear. When he did not respond, she yanked his arm and repeated, "What's your fucking floor?"

"F-Five," he stammered. "I swear to God-"

"I don't care, neither does he." Faith reached back with her left hand and pushed the button for the third floor, then the one for the fifth. She kept his face pressed into the corner of the car until the bell dinged. She released his arm and stepped back; he turned, but his right arm wasn't doing much. Faith stared at him until the elevator door closed, then she turned and sprinted to the staircase. She was up the stairs to the fourth floor in a flash; her stuff was already in her bag, so she simply had to grab it and go, back down the stairs. She hustled down to the third floor landing, then eased the door open and listened. The elevator dinged and heavy strides crossed the floor. She grinned, carefully closed the door, and went down the steps two at a time to the lobby. She didn't know what time it was, but prayed it was close to eleven as slipped out of the staircase and tried to nonchalantly walk the few yards to the restaurant door. The door opened just before she reached it; Tamra stepped outside and looked around.

"Oh, hey, there you are." She glanced at Faith's bag. "That's all your stuff?"

"Yeah," the Slayer replied. "Hey, where are you parked?"

Tamra gestured over her shoulder. "Out back, behind the building."

Faith hitched her bag up higher on her shoulder and pointed toward the restaurant door. "Why don't we cut through there? It'll be faster."

"Jeez," Tamra said as the Slayer pushed past her, "what's your rush?"

"No rush," Faith said without turning around. "I just, you know, no reason to hang around. Clean break, y'know?"

Tamra shook her head as she followed. "I hope you're not gonna be weird."

"No worries." As they reached the door leading back through the kitchen, Faith looked back through the smoky windows facing the hallway in time to see a big man followed by two younger versions of himself get off the elevator and look around. He favored his right arm.


Faith lay on the bare mattress of the twin bed, her arm resting on her forehead as she stared up at the ceiling, faintly fluorescent in the dim light that filtered through the blinds. Adrenaline, the new surroundings, and Cheyanne's soft breathing from the other bed kept her awake.

She shivered; encountering that asshole in a casino (of all places) was too much like a flashback. Maybe this wasn't the best place for her; maybe it was time to get back on the bus. After all, she didn't have much to pack (bitter laugh), and what was her reason for staying here? Why was she even in this house? A tear escaped and trickled down toward her ear. She brushed at it, pissed that one jagoff could get so far under her skin. She was still angry as she drifted off to sleep.

Faith's eyes snapped open. The light was wrong, the ceiling was wrong, the air was filled with a whistling roar, the walls were- She swung to a sitting position, fists balled. The sound stopped. Her bleary eyes spotted Cheyanne looking at her, blow dryer in her hand.

"You okay?" the girl asked. "Sorry. It never bothered Kasey. She could sleep through cannons." She turned back to the oval mirror on the wall above the dresser.

"It's fine." Faith got to her unsteady feet. "Shower open?"

"Yeah. Wendi's done, Tamra's still asleep." Cheyanne's reflection eyed the Slayer as Faith stumbled past. The shower was a one-piece fiberglass unit that was obviously a retrofit; the pressure was decent. Faith dried off with her T-shirt and padded back into the bedroom. Cheyanne followed her in the mirror. "I thought you were bringing your stuff over today."

Faith dropped her damp shirt on the bed and pulled on a dry one. "Ah, I decided, why wait, you know?"

"Uh, you got any sheets or a pillowcase? Or a pillow?" Cheyanne sculpted the ends of her hair with a comb. She glanced over her shoulder. "Maybe a towel?"

"Huh? No." Faith pulled a pair of jeans from her bag.

Cheyanne placed the dryer on the dresser and turned to face the Slayer. "There might be some sheets and towels in Kasey's stuff."

"'No' and 'way'. Why not just ask if I want to borrow her underwear?"

"Because there's a major difference between a towel and panties," Cheyanne observed wryly.

"Thanks, Julia Child." Faith zipped her jeans.

"That makes no sense." Cheyanne shook her head. "Julia Child did cooking."

"Sue me." Faith pushed her hair back. "You're off today, right? Got big plans?"

"Wendi and I are going to town, do some shopping. You need anything?"

"Nope. Don't have any coin, anyway." Faith stuffed yesterday's clothes in her bag.

"There's a washer and dryer on the back porch." Cheyanne shrugged. "You wouldn't want your wet clothes to mildew."

Faith straightened up and faced the other girl. "I can say with one-hundred percent conviction that I have never worried about that."


"Last one." Faith hoisted the light can onto the stage.

"Thanks." Kyle was crouched over another can, futzing with the wiring. "Appreciate it."

"Hey, I'm gettin' paid. Appreciation's got nothing to do with it."

"That's her."

Faith turned and Kyle looked up as the gravelly voice cut through the air. The guy with the low forehead and the blazer stood at the back of the theater, but he wasn't alone. A cop stood slightly behind him and to his left. The cop was medium height, square jaw, deep-set eyes, and a thick head of dark hair pushed back off his forehead. He wore a khaki and brown twill pants. His belt held the usual assortment of cop tools. He looked at Faith as he scratched his jaw with a thumbnail. "You sure, Donovan?" he said to the guy in the blazer.

"Yeah." Donovan nodded. "See the tattoo?"

Faith swore under her breath, even as goose bumps rose on her arms and fight-or-flight began to kick in. Her eyes darted back and forth, checking possible exit routes out of the room.

"You wanna tell me why you're interrupting my people?" Raven stepped out of the office; she wore cutoff jean shorts and white oxford shirt tied at the waist. "The last thing I need is a light falling on my head because you screwed with my crew."

Donovan held up a thick hand. "Just butt out. I gotta report from a guest, your girl up there assaulted him and took his wallet."

"Bullshit," Faith blurted. Raven raised a hand, palm out. The Slayer settled back on her heels.

"Okay." Raven crossed her arms. "First, Wes, you don't have any jurisdiction here."

"You know that's not true, Ms. Fox. There's a carve-out for the casino if we're called by your management."

"Oh, Wesley, so formal. Call me Raven."

"Ms. Fox, I'm here on a call."

"Yeah, a call about a thief." Donovan's voice sounded like a cement mixer on low. He pointed toward the stage. "Her."

Raven bristled. "Donovan, you-"

"Could you both pipe down?" Wes rolled his eyes toward the ceiling. "You're giving me a headache." He looked at Faith and held out a hand. "Miss…?"

Faith blinked. "Glynda. Glynda Burke."

"Thanks. Okay, Miss Burke, you do have a tattoo that matches one described-"

"Who described it?" Raven demanded.

"I'm not revealing a guest's identity." Donovan's voice descended to a growl.

"Again," Wes said, sharper this time, "would you both be quiet." He turned to Faith and motioned with his left hand. "As I said, someone has claimed that they were assaulted and robbed by a young woman matching your description with a tattoo like the one you have on your arm. Do you have anything to say?"

"I didn't assault him," Faith snarled, "and I sure didn't rob him… but I did kick his ass."

"Wait, what?" Wes blinked. "You're saying that you were involved in an altercation-"

"Don't answer that," Raven said.

Donovan leaned toward the officer. "She has admitted-"

"He grabbed my ass. I told him to move it. He didn't, so I moved it for him. I can describe him," Faith said, holding her hand above her head. "Big guy, about this tall, weird fake teeth, cologne that makes Axe seem subtle."

"That's very colorful," Wes replied; his mouth was a thin, straight line, but he didn't seem angry. "Where did this happen?"

Faith pointed past him. "In the hallway. By the elevator."

"See, she's lying," Donovan said. "After a show, in the main hallway, there would be witnesses."

"Not necessarily," Kyle said. Six eyes turned toward him; Raven just leaned against the doorway to the office. "It's a Tuesday… most of the Tuesday crowd at the theater are locals, they'd turn left and head straight for the door. I don't think we have that many hotel guests, the floor's not that full, it's, what, ten-thirty, eleven… That's zombie hour."

"Zombie hour?" Wes Mitchell raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah, customers who are playing for fun, they're probably up in their room already, the people left on the floor, they may play until two, three a.m." He shrugged, palms up.

"So, it's her word against our guest." Donovan sounded triumphant. It was nasty. "She's admitted that she attacked him, the rest of her story's probably a lie, too."

"You could check the cameras," Kyle suggested. Donovan gave him a withering glare, but Kyle didn't seem to notice. "Anything that happened there should be on one of the security cams."

Wes's head tilted to one side. "You have security cameras that cover this floor?"

Kyle nodded. "Yeah, we updated about six months ago. I helped wire them in."

The police officer nodded and turned to Donovan. "Okay, you and me are going to go take a look at the cameras and see what we can see." He turned to Faith. "I'd appreciate it if you would just wait here, Ms. Burke. Maybe we can clear this up without too much fuss."

"You're going to just let her wait here? She'll be three counties over before we've cued up the tape," Donovan fumed.

Wes Mitchell sighed and turned to Raven. "I'm leaving her here on your recognizance, Ms. Fox." He nodded at Donovan. "Let's go." The wide-bodied man tried to protest, but Wes was already moving into the hall. As their shadows faded, Faith made a move toward the door.

"Where are you going?" Raven asked.

"I don't know, that whole 'three counties over' thing sounded like good career advice." Faith nodded toward the door.

"Wait." Kyle spoke from behind her. "They'll look at the video, see what you said, you'll be in the clear."

"That guy'll see what he wants to see," Faith said as she turned to face him.

"If you run away, you'll just look guilty." Kyle spread his arms, hands open.

Faith's eyes narrowed. "I'll look guilty to them no matter what."

"Let her go." Raven sounded bored.

Kyle looked past Faith to his boss. "You're supposed to keep her here."

"No, I'm not." Raven leaned against the wall, arms crossed. "I'm not her mom, her big sister, or her best friend."

"I'm right here," Faith said, her voice frosty.

"Oh, okay, then." Raven looked at her; the magician's eyes opened wide and Faith felt slightly giddy. "I'm not your mom, your big sister, your best friend. Go."

Faith seethed for a moment, then said, "Fine." She wheeled toward the door just as the two men stepped into the space. Donovan did not look happy.

"Enjoy the show?" Raven asked.

Wes gave her a brief glance. "The video confirms Ms. Burke's story. It appears that a man approached her at the elevator and, based on her body language and reaction, made an unwelcome advance." He tipped his head toward Faith. "Sorry to take up your time… If there's a next time, you might let him get on the elevator by himself, under his own power." He looked at Raven and touched an index finger to his forehead. "Sorry to cut into your prep time, Miss Fox. Hope we didn't mess up your show." He turned and went down the hall. Donovan glared at them for a heartbeat, then wheeled and stomped away.

"Oh, don't feel bad," Raven said to the Slayer. "You can't be a tragic hero all the time." She went into the office, leaving Faith standing in the aisle.