Torment - Lauren Kate [90]
“Never mind! I’m a genius,” Shelby called from across the roof. She was hunched over one of the skylights, wrestling with a lock. With a grunt, she pried it open, then lifted a hinged pane of glass. She stuck her head through, motioning for Luce and Miles to join her.
Cautiously, Luce peered down through the open skylight into a large, opulent bathroom. There were four generous-sized stalls on one side, a line of raised marble sinks facing a gilded mirror on the other. A mauve plush settee was set up in front of a vanity, and a single woman sat there, looking into the mirror. Luce could only see the top of her black bouffant hair, but her reflection showed a heavily made-up face, thick bangs, and a French-manicured hand reapplying an unnecessary coat of red lipstick.
“As soon as Cleopatra’s gone through that tube of lipstick, we’ll just shimmy on down,” Shelby whispered.
Below them, Cleopatra stood up from the vanity. She smacked her lips together and wiped a stray red stain off her teeth. Then she marched toward the door.
“Let me get this straight,” Miles said. “You want me to ‘shimmy’ into a women’s bathroom?”
Luce took one more look around the desolate roof. There was really only one way in. “If anyone sees you, just pretend you went in the wrong door.”
“Or that you two were making out in one of the stalls,” Shelby added. “What? It’s Vegas.”
“Let’s just go.” Miles was blushing as he lowered himself feet-first through the window. He extended his arms slowly, until his feet hovered just over the high marble top of the vanity.
“Help Luce down,” Shelby called.
Miles moved to lock the bathroom door, then raised his arms to catch Luce. She tried to mimic his smooth technique, but her arms were wobbly as she lowered herself through the skylight. She couldn’t see much below her, but felt Miles’s strong grip around her waist sooner than she’d expected.
“You can let go,” he said, and when she did, he lowered her gracefully to the floor. His fingers spread out around her rib cage, just a thin black T-shirt away from her skin. His arms were still around her when her feet touched the tile. She was about to thank him, but when she looked up into his eyes, she got tongue-tied.
She backed out of his grasp too quickly, mumbling apologetically for tripping over his feet. Both of them leaned up against the vanity, nervously avoiding eye contact by staring at the wall.
That should not have happened. Miles was just her friend.
“Hello! Anyone going to help me?” Shelby’s ribbed-stockinged feet were dangling from the skylight, kicking impatiently. Miles moved under the window and roughly grabbed her belt, easing her down by the waist. He released Shelby a lot more quickly, Luce noticed, than he had released her.
Shelby bounded across the gold-tiled floor and unlocked the door. “Come on, you two, what are you waiting for?”
On the other side of the door, glamorously made-up black-clad waitresses bustled by in sequined high heels, trays of cocktail shakers balanced in the crooks of their arms. Men in expensive dark suits crowded around blackjack tables, where they whooped like teenage boys each time a hand was dealt. There were no slot machines clanking and banging on an endless loop here. It was hushed, and exclusive, and endlessly exciting—but it wasn’t anything like the scene they had watched in the Announcer.
A cocktail waitress approached them. “May I help you?” She lowered her stainless steel tray to scrutinize them.
“Ooh, caviar,” Shelby said, scooping up three blini and handing one to the others. “You guys thinking what I’m thinking?”
Luce nodded. “We were just going downstairs.”
When the elevator doors opened onto the bright and glaring lobby of the casino, Luce had to be pushed out by Miles. She could tell they’d finally come to the right place. The cocktail waitresses were older, tired, showing a lot less flesh. They didn’t glide across the stained orange carpet; they thumped. And