GLASS_ A Standalone Novel - Arianne Richmonde Page 0,49
first I thought it was the wrong number, then a dirty caller, then Daniel making a sexy call (wishful thinking), and then I realized it was my brother Will.
“Janie, we’re on our way.”
“Right now? You caught a plane already? Talk about giving me notice. I didn’t even know you were planning on a visit!”
“I can do numbers. I can gamble. I can do numbers. Want to go to Vegas. We can meet there.”
“What? Vegas? What are you saying, Will? No! Just, no!”
“Dad thinks it’s a good idea.”
My father had always been somewhat irresponsible, my mom the organizer, the fixer, the one who thought for the two of them. But this? This was crazy.
“Will, there are so many things you can do with your life, but going to Vegas and gambling is not one of them.”
I had visions of Will being beaten up by the mafia for winning too much money in clandestine ways, left to bleed in a gutter somewhere. Worse, shot in the head. It was true he was clever with math—like a sort of computer, but his therapist always told us that nurturing that facet of his brain would hinder, not help him. It would cause the creative, “social” part of the brain to shut off. He needed to make friends and interact, not hide inside a numerical cocoon.
“Where are you now?” I asked.
“At JFK, changing planes.”
“What? Why didn’t Dad let me know about this?”
“I told him I’d spoken to you and that you said it was great, that we could meet there.”
“You lied? That’s a lie, Will, I did not say it was okay!”
“We’re on our way to Vegas, on our way to Vegas, on our way to—”
“Put Dad on the line.”
“On our way to Vegas . . . ” he sang, and then he was gone.
I frantically dialed Dad’s cell. It was off. Crap, crap, crap! This was all I needed right now.
2
THE NEXT DAY, after I’d been cleared by the doctor and given a pep talk about how I had to eat more iron-rich foods and take my vitamins, Star came to pick me up from the hospital and took me back to her house. As we drove, she told me all the details about how she had once been kidnapped, amazingly by her brother and some loony Russian, and how she’d fallen in love with her assistant director, who was also acting as her bodyguard—they’d been locked up together, downtown LA. How they were finally freed, but Leo—the guy she loved—got shot, and her brother arrested. I’d read the story once, and seen it all over the news on TV, several years earlier, but had no idea the story had been so complex. It made me understand how vulnerable she was; how, as such a major movie star, she was a walking target. Did I want that kind of attention? The Dark Edge of Love—if it did well at the box office—could change my life as I knew it.
I told her the whole Will saga, and Star agreed I should go to Vegas, and even offered to come with me.
“It’s fine,” I told her. “Really, I can handle it, and I’m okay—I feel rested and strong enough to fly.”
She looked doubtful. “Really?”
“Really. I’d rather deal with my family alone. No offense, but you know how it is.”
“Yeah, I do. Family can be really fucked up.”
When I got back to Star’s house, I spoke to Dad, who was horrified that Will had fibbed to me, saying what a great idea it was to go to Vegas.
Unfortunately, it was too late to turn the clock back now. Or rather, the invisible clock, because we all know that in Vegas they have no clocks. Will had been missing since five a.m., from the hotel. I knew what he was up to: playing in a casino somewhere.
“There’s no point in you even coming,” Dad objected. “You’re weak and need all your strength—you can’t be running around Vegas looking for Will in your condition.”
“I’m worried about him, Dad. He could get into serious trouble if they get wind of his game, his method, whatever . . . that is, if he has one.”
“He’ll be okay,” Dad said, sounding unconvinced.
“How much money did he have on him when he left the hotel this morning?” I asked.
“Like fifty dollars, if that.”
“Have you searched the hotel?”
“There are four thousand and four rooms here, a casino the size of three football fields, and sixteen restaurants—where should I begin?”