Decision made, her breathing mellowed. After all, nothing was going to happen to her while she was in Vegas.
Chapter Eight
Success was only a dead girl away.
A woman, really, but to Sarah Jane Hunihan, they were all just girls yet to be turned into cynical bitches by fate's cruel sense of humor.
Alone in a bathroom at Las Vegas’ Paris Casino, Sarah Jane allowed herself a moment to let her well-maintained facade slip. Sliding down the gold cap of her mauve lipstick until it clicked, she smacked her lips together with a little pop. Glancing at the ornate, gilded bathroom mirror, Sarah Jane adjusted the upturned flip at the end of her steel-gray bob.
She'd had the cut forever and refused to give it up. Every time she looked in the mirror it was a reminder of her former self. Her weak self.
Let the world think she was a silly old woman obsessed with stamping, scrapbooks and church bake sales, it made getting away with things so much easier. For twenty-two years, she'd craved revenge. When the Lakota announced they were building a reservation casino, her plans for retribution fell into place.
Straightening her spine, just starting to develop a curve, she strode to the bathroom door. Decades ago, she’d transformed herself from that simpering secretary Ed Webster ruined.
Still, she held on to the pain and humiliation all these years later. The bitter emotions twisted together to destroy the numbness that had sunk into her very bones when she’d realized she'd meant nothing to him. She never had.
He'd never planned to leave his wife as he’d promised. All she had to do was give up their secret baby, he’d whispered. And she’d done it, learning too late what a lying bastard he was. Some other woman had swaddled their son. Counted his toes. Breathed in the baby-powder scent of his soft skin.
It had taken years to find her son. But she’d done it. And what did his bastard father do? He’d made noises the boy wasn’t his, but Sarah Jane knew better.
Ed had ignored and denied his own son in favor of Beth Martinez.
Beth had come to work at the Webster and Carter Estate Firm, her office a few doors down from Sarah Jane’s. She’d turned into Ed Webster’s favorite. Not their son, who he refused to acknowledge. No. He showered his attention on that little bitch.
Now Beth was the only obstacle standing in the way of complete revenge. That changed tonight. She’d leveraged the plentiful results of twenty years of pinching pennies on the land deal that would destroy Ed. No one, especially not Beth Martinez, would take it away from her.
Sarah Jane’s arthritic fingers protested when she wrapped them around the doorknob. If only the pain medication wasn't so expensive, she'd take it every day, but she sacrificed for the greater payoff. Tomorrow the little yellow pill and her successful removal of Beth would ease away the pain.
Grinning, she joined the throngs of people strolling down the fake cobblestone street at the Paris Casino. She took in the sky-painted ceiling, forever daylight, with its puffy white clouds and the smell of freshly made crepes from the shops. A tarted-up woman in sky-high spiked heels bobbled across the uneven floor. Dumb girl.
Sarah Jane had been like her once. Not anymore. Her orthopedic shoes kept her feet planted firmly on the ground.
Her phone jingled above the piped-in French music of the casino. “Hello?'
“Something's going to go wrong.” The worry in his voice carried over the music.
“Well, hello to you too, my sweet son.” Again? How many times could she have the same conversation with him? “You worry too much, darling.”
His foster mothers must have coddled him constantly for him to have grown up to be so whiney. Yet more fault to lay at his father's feet. If only she'd tracked her son down sooner.
“But, she's not going to get hurt. Right?” The tension in his voice spilled through the phone line.
“Of course not. We're just going to scare her a bit.” Pausing for effect, she sat on an upholstered bench inside a store selling gaudy, overpriced shoes. “It is we, isn't it? You haven't decided to abandon your mother now that we've finally found each other? I don't think I could survive that.”
“You know I wouldn't do that to you.” The words rushed out of his mouth, concern tightening his tone.
“You told me all about being stuck in foster families who didn’t understand you or love you like real ones would. I’ve tried to create a home for you. A real home. The kind of safe, loving home you missed out on when you were shuffled from family to family, but I’m just not feeling like we’ve developed a true mother-son bond.”
“What have I done?”
Picking up a ridiculous Lucite stiletto heel, she wondered who would wear such a tasteless item. “I don't know; you seem so distant right now. I was devastated when your father forced me to give you up and then deserted me. When I found out your adoptive parents abandoned you to foster care, it nearly killed me. I’m sure I can't live through that again. If you left me now, why, I don't know what I'd do.”