Everybody Kills Somebody Sometime

Twenty

I waited about a half an hour. During that time many of the girls had come out of the dressing room and either gone home or out to run their daily errands before returning later for the show. A couple of brunettes came out and when I asked if they were Carla they smiled politely and said no, Carla would be out soon. Finally, I got tired of waiting and approached the door to the dressing room. I knocked, opened it cautiously and said, “Hello? Anyone in here?”

“Come on in, handsome,” a woman’s voice said.

I entered and found myself face-to-face with a blond amazon. Even without the high heels she looked six feet. She was dressed for the street in blue jeans and a purple short-sleeved top that was being dangerously stretched by her breasts. In my opinion jeans were invented for dancers to wear. The denim clung tightly to their legs so you could see if a muscle even twitched. She had her long blond hair pulled back by a kerchief that matched her top.

“What can I do for you, lover?” she asked.

She had already applied her street makeup, which was considerably less than her stage makeup. Still, her lips were scarlet, and there was plenty of mascara surrounding her blue eyes.

“I’m, uh, looking for Carla De Lucca?”

“You mean I won’t do?” she asked, putting her hands on her rounded hips.

“Oh, any other day I’d say yes without even hesitating,” I answered.

“But not today.”

“I’m sorry,” I said. “You don’t know how sorry.”

“Well, don’t be too sorry,” she said. “There may be time after all.”

“What do you mean?”

“Carla beat it out the back way about twenty minutes ago.”

“Do you know why?”

“All I know is Verna came in and told her something, and she got dressed real quick and scrammed out the back. Is she runnin’ from you? And if the answer’s yes, why?” She eyed me with increased interest.

“I don’t know,” I said. “I guess I’ll have to ask her when I see her. Which way did she leave?”

“Go out that door,” she said, pointing to the other end of the dressing room, “and then there’s a door that’ll take you to the back parking lot.”

“Okay, thanks.”

“My name’s Honey, by the way,” she said. “Honey Sweet.” She wrinkled her nose. “Stage name.”

“Well, Honey, tell me, do you know Lou Terazzo?”

Now she wrinkled he nose in a totally different way.

“Do I? He’s always hangin’ around here, sniffin’ after the girls.”

“He’s supposed to have a thing going with Carla,” I said, “at least, that’s the info I got.”

“Well, that may be so, but it don’t keep him from chasing the rest of us around here with his tongue hangin’ out.”

I decided to compliment her to see if she might have something else to tell me.

“Well, in your case,” I said, “I guess you can’t really blame him.”

She liked that, and came closer. Her perfume was heavy, but it wasn’t altogether unpleasant.

“You’re sweet,” she said.

“No,” I said, “I thought you were, remember? Honey Sweet?”

She laughed and ran her hand up my arm. Her fingernails were painted the same scarlet as her lips.

“Well, maybe when you’re done chasin’ Carla you could come back.”

“Maybe I could,” I agreed. “When was the last time you saw Lou around here?”

“Earlier today.”

“And you wouldn’t happen to have an address for Carla, would you?”

“Actually, I do,” she said. “I don’t have much use for her, but her roommate and I are friends.” She gave me an address of an apartment complex that was off the strip. “In fact,” she added, “a few of the girls live there.”

“Like you?” I asked, because it was expected of me.

“No,” she said, “I have my own place somewhere a little more private. If you’re lucky, maybe you’ll see it some day.”

“Hey,” I said, “this is Vegas. It’s all about luck. Thanks for talking to me, Honey.”

“My pleasure, handsome,” she said. “By the way, what’s your name?”

“Eddie,” I said, “Eddie Gianelli.”

“Well, Eddie Gianelli,” she said, “see you around.”

“Yeah,” I said, “see you.”

Her perfume had started to get a little too heavy for me, and followed me outside like a cloud. Once I was in the Riviera parking lot, though, it dispelled and I was able to breath again. I took a few deep breaths, not only to get rid of the fragrance, but also the euphoria showgirls seemed to cause in men. It was something I certainly was not immune to, even after all these years in Vegas.