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Back to Vegas, Part 11 (Suspense, Fiction)
November 16, 2011 - Burt Angeli
Oslo and Mac both gave me a look, implying "What's this we'll business?"
"We have to help. We've gone this far for Bianca and Barbie."
"Sorry," Mac said. "The motel calls. I'm back on the desk soon."
"OK, Mac. I understand. Thanks for bailing me out. Keep yours eyes peeled for Rick."
"And what about Barbie's rackets?" Bianca asked. "She's not playing handball out there."
Oslo offered to check the back seat of the Caddy, remembering Oscar grabbed a tennis racket in his rummage sale travels.
"Don't believe a 1940 Don Budge model will work these days," I said. "Here, Bianca, take my plastic and go to the pro shop. Buy what you need."
"I thought of that, Kevin. Cash only there," Bianca said. "That's what I'm short of."
Oslo to the rescue. He peeled off a couple hundreds and handed them to Bianca.
"You're a savior, Oslo," said Bianca, giving a big hug before bounding off to the Hanges-Reidy Tennis Center pro shop.
"Where'd you get the bucks, 'O?' I know you've gone cold hitting video poker royals."
A sheepish Oslo came clean.
"We can thank, Mac. He gave me a winner on a baseball game. Some rookie pitcher came through for the Dodgers.
Bianca, with rackets clutched in her arms, returned to the courts with her mother.
"You ready for this semifinal match?" I asked.
"Ready for anything."
She gave us a fist bump and set off for her big match.
While we sat down for the match, Las Vegas' McCarran International Airport had one man holding a duffel bag and checking flights to Ireland.
"One-way to Shannon. First-class," Rick ordered the airline customer service agent. "And be very careful with the bag."
(To be continued)
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