Page 66 of Paging Dr. Hart
“Tiffany,” says Shelly, speaking slowly like she’s talking to a small child. “It’s me. We need to get out of here.” She holds up a worn black duffle bag, bulging unevenly from the contents within it.
I must be in shock from just having witnessed a man get shot, because I stare at the bag dumbly, unclear for a second why it’s important. Then it dawns on me. It worked. Shelly got into the safe. We got the money.
I can help my mom.
“Go!” Rafe urges us, and we do, rushing toward the exit. I spare a last look at Johnny. I can’t see him. There are too many onlookers. In the shifting crowd, I get a glimpse of Stewart, clutching an earpiece and shouting into it.
Rafe slams open the door leading into the hallway with the mirrored ceiling and marble floor. Pushing through the frightened throng of guests into the hall, we rush to the door for the stairs. Praying that it won’t set off an alarm, I push the door open. No bells ring. No sirens wail.
The three of us dash down the stairs, going round and round in an ever-descending spiral. I concentrate on not falling. The high heels I’m wearing make me slower than my companions.
Guests from the masquerade ball stream into the stairwell behind us. Their panicked voices follow us as they escape the chaos of the overcrowded hallway. Their footsteps ring on the concrete steps. The quicker people flow around me and pass, heading downstairs. I’m hoping that with all these people we’ll be lost in the shuffle. Just another set of guests running from the shooting, rather than criminals fleeing from a robbery.
We descend for what seems like forever, then at a sign that reads 40th we exit onto a floor filled with hotel rooms. There’s a long central hallway and doors lining the walls on each side. The room numbers scroll by in my periphery as we run: 4220, 4218, 4216.
I keep expecting to hear the sound of pursuit behind us, but so far there’s only silence. Maybe everyone is too distracted by the shooting to worry about us. I hope that’s the case.
At the end of the hallway is a bank of six elevators for the general hotelguests. A group of young women wait by the elevator doors. They’re all dressed in similar tight short skirts with matching tube tops. In their center is a woman with a revealing white dress. A sash around her chest reads, “bride to be.” The women lean against each other, slurring their words and talking with overly loud voices.
Shelly, Rafe, and I press in close to the group, trying to blend in with them. The elevator chimes, and we all crowd in together. This is one of the riskiest parts of our plan. If someone discovers the empty safe, the police could already be on the ground floor, waiting for us to step off the elevator and right into custody.
The descent stops, and noiselessly the elevator doors slide open to reveal the lobby. There’s no security waiting for us. It’s a clear path to the main doors of the hotel. Walking fast but trying not to run, we head for the exit.
We almost make it, are close enough to feel the incoming rush of fresh air, when I hear it. The ringing of the phone on the security desk. We’ll have to pass right by it. In slow motion, I watch the guard pick up the phone and talk into the receiver. He looks up and scans the crowd until his eyes fall on us. They light in recognition.
“Run!” shouts Rafe, and he takes off, sprinting to the door. Shelly is right behind him. Stumbling in my stupid high heels, I run after. The security guard comes around his desk, almost reaching me, when I push through to the outside. The blare of taxicabs angrily honking sounds like the sweet music of freedom.
Rafe and Shelly have pulled ahead, half a block in front of me. I pause to kick off my shoes into the bushes. The guard has also made it through the main entrance and is outside on the sidewalk. I ignore his shout of “Stop!” and run faster than I’ve ever done in my entire life.
Startled tourists stare at me with wide eyes when I rush past. The soles of my bare feet sting as they slap the pavement. After a few blocks, Rafe turns off a side street in front of me. Three blocks later, Shelly disappears into a Chinese restaurant.
Sirens break out behind me, their warbling cry getting closer as I hurtle down the Strip. I take a sharp right and dash into the first casino I see. Apolice car with flashing lights passes as I watch, half-hidden in the shadows, peeking through the window. It is headed toward the Luxor. When I pull back from the window, it acts as a mirror, reflecting my wide horrified eyes and the mask that still obscures half my face. I had forgotten it was on. With revulsion, I rip it off and stuff it into my pocket. I don’t ever want to see it again. It’s the embodiment of my shame, my subterfuge.
In the hotel gift shop, I buy a baggy hoodie sweatshirt with the words Las Vegas spelled out in gaudy rhinestones and matching sweatpants. My mom’s white dress is stained from the spilled champagne. Ruined. Regretfully, I throw the dress away, shoving it down deep in the women’s bathroom trash can and piling crumpled paper towels on top.
In my new clothing, I step back out onto the brightly lit Strip. People around me laugh and talk. They smile and embrace. In my distressed state, their faces appear distorted, like in a carnival fun house. Everything is upside down, and that’s when I realize I’ve been lying to myself. I thought I could do these things, bad things, and when they were done I’d go back to my normal life. Now I see so clearly that after tonight nothing will ever be the same.
55
We meet up at the Starlight, like we planned, in the back of the decaying hotel. Once this space had held an upscale steakhouse. Only torn and dusty leather booths remain. Rafe, Shelly, and I avoid them, instead standing in a loose semicircle in the center of the room.
Now that I’ve stopped running, the enormity of my actions, the reality of my situation, hits me. It’s a blow to my head, to my heart. I can’t believe I did those awful, terrible things. I betrayed Stewart, committed a crime, and watched a man get shot. It’s all too much. I’m shaking. My body trembles like a leaf in the wind. Tears well in my eyes and tumble down my cheeks.
“Wh—what just happened?” I ask Rafe and Shelly, crying. “What did we do? I’m so confused. Who shot Johnny?”
“Who knows?” Rafe shrugs, unmoved. “I’ve never seen that guy before.”
“Are you saying you had nothing to do with it?” I cry, fearful that I’m an accomplice to a murder. Worried that I’m going to jail, rather than to college. How could I have been so stupid? To let Rafe and Shelly drag me into this mess. But I can’t blame them, not if I’m being honest. They may have pointed out this road, but I’m the one who walked down it.
“Me?” Rafe barks out a harsh laugh. “Trust me, I don’t have that kind of clout. I’m small-time compared to those guys.”
Can I trust him?Everything’s changed since I saw Stewart’s father get shot. My attention turns to Shelly to see how she’s handling everything. It startles me that she has the same look as Rafe. That determined, flat expression, like nothing that’s occurred can touch her. Like she’s buried in a block of ice.
“How can you be so calm right now?” I ask them both. “We just saw a man get shot. He’s probably dead. He—” My voice rises, along with my panic.
“Tiffany,” Rafe says, cutting me off, “there’s nothing we can do about that. It’s out of our control. We need to hurry, finish our business.” He turns to Shelly, gesturing to the now-dirty duffle bag by her feet. “Let’s see it.”
Kneeling, she unzips the bag and opens it wide. Even through my tears, I gasp at the stacks of bills, coins, casino chips, and sparkling jewels resting there. Rafe lets out a long whistle and selects a single $1,000 casino chip. He flips it up in the air and catches it in his palm. “Give Tiffany her share,” he tells Shelly.
