“A what?” Kade’s surprise was an echo of Blane’s.
“An audition,” Manny stubbornly repeated. “You said you knew the guy who was head of casting for Lord of the Rings. You promised you’d get me an audition.”
Blane locked eyes with Kade in a look that clearly said Really? Kade slowly nodded.
“Yeah, that sounds like something I’d do.”
Blane shook his head. “I can’t deal with this right now,” he muttered, turning and heading out of the bedroom.
“Hey! Wait!” Kade called, but Blane ignored him.
Digging in the mini-fridge, Blane pulled out a bottle of water. Twisting off the cap, he took a long swig. God that tasted good. A few swallows later and he’d emptied the bottle.
Heat rose from the asphalt outside in waves as he looked out the window, the view overlooking the Strip. The only explanation for his complete blackout from last night was that he’d been roofied, probably Kade, too, by his “customer.”
“Good idea,” Kade said, coming up behind Blane and sucking down his own bottle of water.
Blane glanced around and saw Manny standing by the couch, an ill-tempered scowl on his face and the handcuffs dangling from his wrist.
“You got out of the cuffs?” Blane asked, impressed in spite of himself.
Kade shrugged. “It’s a talent. Comes in handy.”
Blane really didn’t want to know when else being able to unlock handcuffs had “come in handy” for Kade.
“Do you remember anything from last night?” Blane asked in an undertone.
Kade glanced sideways at him. “Negative, Ghostrider.”
“Fuck.”
“Yep.”
“It was that guy,” Blane said. “Your customer. He ordered the drinks. They must’ve put a drug in them.”
“Something he’s going to regret.” Kade’s voice was cold.
“Holy shit! Where’d you get all this money?”
They both turned to see Manny eyeing the pile of poker chips, his eyes wide. He glanced back at them, incredulous.
“You won all this and they haven’t thrown you out yet?”
A noise from the second bedroom made them all turn to look.
“What the hell was that?” Kade asked.
Blane waited, listening. Was someone else in the suite with them?
The noise came again…kind of like a…honk.
Blane watched in disbelief as a goose waddled out the open door of the bedroom.
“Holy shit,” Kade breathed. “It’s like we’re in that movie.”
“What movie?”
“You know. The one where they wake up in Vegas and all this shit happened to them, but they don’t remember any of it.”
A vague memory came to Blane. He remembered that film. It’d been really funny. However, this situation was decidedly not.
The goose spotted them, its feathers ruffling as it waddled by, keeping a distance and an eye on them as it meandered over to the windows and pecked at the glass. That’s when Blane noticed a thin leash around its long neck. It trailed behind the goose as it walked.
One problem at a time.
“What happened to the girls?” he asked Mannie. “Were we with two women last night? Brandy and Liz?”
Mannie shook his head. “Nah. But I saw you making out with one of the trapeze artists, though,” he said, nodding toward Blane.
“Nice,” Kade said with a smirk, slapping Blane on the back. Blane shot him a look.
“Maybe you should call your wife,” Mannie suggested. “Is she here with you?”
Both men stared at him in confusion.
“What wife?” Blane finally asked.
Mannie pointed to Blane’s left hand. “You’re married, right? Figured your wife could help you out.”
A cold wash of ice seemed to crash over Blane as he looked at the gold band on his finger.
“Aw man! And I don’t even remember your bachelor party,” Kade quipped.
I’m gonna kill him, Blane thought. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath, forcing away the urge to throttle his little brother.
“Guys! Guys! You gotta get in here!”
“Now what?” Blane rushed to where Mannie had disappeared into the bathroom. He’d stopped short in the doorway, but Blane had no problem looking over his shoulder.
Kade’s “customer,” Raymond, was in the bathtub, which would’ve been fine, except he was a) very naked, and b) very dead.
“Okay, I did not see that coming,” Kade said from behind Blane.
“You think?” Blane exploded, rounding on him. “What the fuck, Kade? This guy roofies us, and now he’s in our room. Dead. Do you have any idea how deep a shithole we’re in? Not to mention that apparently I’m married. And I don’t even know to who!” He was seething, his hands clenched in fists at his sides.
“To whom,” Kade corrected.
Blane advanced on Kade, who took a few steps back, holding his hands up, palms out, to slow him down.