AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“So was I,” Win said.
“Wait, what? When?”
“A long time ago. We had a weekend.”
Myron just shook his head.
“It was glorious, if you must know.”
“No, I mustn’t.”
“She was maybe a tad performative. I find beautiful women can often be performative. Do you find that, Myron?”
“No.”
“They need to be in love to really let go.”
“That’s true of most women. Men too.”
Win cocked his head. “You don’t really believe that.”
“You never told me about you and Cecelia Callister.”
“A gentleman never kisses and tells.”
“You always tell.”
“Well, I’m not a gentleman.”
CHAPTER SIX
A few hours later, the familiar sight of the Las Vegas Strip came into view as Win’s jet landed at what was now called Harry Reid International Airport. The landing was smooth enough to have been choreographed by the Four Tops. They taxied to a stop. Myron and Win walked off the plane. Two black Mercedes-Maybach GLS SUVs waited on the tarmac. One would take Win and his golf clubs to the Shadow Creek golf course. Win was a scratch golfer, a member of Merion, Pine Valley, Seminole, Winged Foot, and Adiona Island. If you know, you know. Win came from a long line of golfers. His ancestors stepped off the Mayflower with top-of-the-line golf clubs and desirable tee times.
The other SUV would take Myron to Donna Kravat’s residence.
“Where are we staying?” Myron asked.
“The Wynn. Know why?”
“Because it’s a good hotel in the heart of the Strip?”
“Yes, but also the alliteration. Win at the Wynn.”
“Oh boy.”
Myron’s ride to the housing development at Kyle Canyon took half an hour. He hadn’t called first, but Win had sent a local private investigator to make sure that Jord Kravat’s mother, Donna, would be home. According to the investigator, Donna was now at the condo pool in a chaise lounge by the deep end, wearing a bright pink bikini. Myron’s preconceived stupidity told him that anyone with a full-grown adult child had to look a certain age. Yep, sexist of him. Donna Kravat was probably Myron’s age, maybe a few years older, and looked fantastic. No doubt that there had been what Myron’s mother euphemistically called “work done,” but so what? That was common in this era and especially around this pool. Half of Myron’s high school class in Livingston had nose jobs. Some people dye their hair. Some people do whatever. Let it go, people. Do what you want. Myron himself had gotten cosmetic veneers on his teeth a few years ago. Who was he to judge?
That said, the “work” here was well done. Donna Kravat was a wee bit faux curvy, but again, so what?
“Donna Kravat?”
She lowered her sunglasses. “I know you.”
“I don’t think we’ve met. My name is—”
“Myron Bolitar,” she said. “You played ball at Duke.”
It was rare people remembered him from his playing days anymore. “Did someone tell you I was coming?”
