3 Sin City Hunter Read Free

needed to be added to the list. Possibly one of the Cirque du Sol eil shows, and Mom thought maybe we could see ventriloquist Terry Fater, “ that nice man who won America’s Got Talent , ” she said. We would also need to choose another show for next weekend when Mick arrived.
    I added the Bellagio Fountains at night to my list; that was a no-brainer. Dinner at Stratosphere’s Top of the World Restaurant was another must-do item. Dad had also requested a trip to the Gold and Silver Pawn Shop. He was a fanatic of the Pawn Stars television show and wanted to take an old, beat-up comic book to the shop and try to s ell it to them. I told him comics lose their value when they have creases and wear, but he seemed to think an old Detective Comics with The Batman in it would be worth something. Maybe Mick could take him to the shop next weekend; it wasn’t high on my priority list.
    My stomach rumbled. I had skipped lunch earlier , and I suddenly felt ravenous . I set my pen and paper aside , determined to work on the list later. I showered and changed for the evening. My plan was to stay at the hotel and spend the evening in the casino trying my hand at slots, poker, and craps. Aunt Charlotte hadn’t spent hours upon hours teaching me how to gamble when I was ten years old for it all to go to waste now.
    A last check in the mirror, and I was satisfied with my look for the evening . I had chosen to wear a burgundy-red sweater dress w ith long blousy sleeves and a scoop neckline . It settle d a few inches above my knee. I loved the dress because it was more fitted than most and didn’t need a belt to show off my figure , and for as much and as hard as I played racquetball, I was very happy with my figure. I pulled on brown leggings and a pair of brown suede , slouchy , calf boots.
    My shoulder length blonde hair had been blown dry and had just enough fluff to look soft and pretty. My bangs were trimmed a couple of days ago, so they were creeping past my brows , but weren’t in my eyes.
    My f irst stop would be dinner to appease the grumbling stomach. I left the room, stepped into the elevator, and pressed the button for the ground floor. I shook my head again that my room was on the 13th floor. How many hotels have a 13th floor - especially in Las Vegas when you hoped to have good luck? I giggled and decided to count it as good fortune. Darby wasn’t with me on this trip, and I only seemed to get into trouble when he was around. Things should be smooth sailing this week with my parents.
    I exited the elevator and made my way toward the casino. I loved the exciting atmosphere of the hotel and couldn’t believe how much there was to see in one building. I passed several restaurants, but had already made the decision to have dinner at Wolfgang Puck.
    I found the restaurant in the center of the bustling casino floor. I entered and requested a seat at the bar. The restaurant had a nice bar area, and I didn’t want to monopolize a table on a Friday night.
    “What can I get for you ?” asked the bartender.
    “I’d like a glass of Riesling, please,” I told him. He nodded and turned to get the wine. I didn’t ask to see a menu, but when he set the glass of wine in front of me, I asked, “Do you have Reuben sandwiches?”
    I loved the sandwiches and tried to make them at least once a week for me and Darby. I always ordered a Reuben in a new restaurant and was interested in how others made the sandwich – Russian dressing or thousand island, classic or marble rye, corned beef or pastrami, very sour sauerkraut or mild. Some people used provolone rather than Swiss cheese , which is profane if you ask me.
    “We have Reuben’s on the lunch menu,” said the bartender, “but let me see if Chef will prepare one for you tonight. I’ll be right back.”
    “Thank you,” I said with a smile as he walked away.
    I turned to observe the diners in the restaurant as well as the players in the casino. Two sides of the restaurant were