Jane Doe Read online

  Synopsis

  Sometimes a brief getaway where no one knows your name can change your life.

  Emily Carver is an inhibited, small town woman who, against warnings from her family, takes her first trip to Las Vegas. On her first night there, she is mugged and saved from worse trauma by Royal Wooten, an independent, assertive woman, and a virtual opposite of Emily.

  With no money or identification and unwilling to go home and face her “I-told-you-so” family, Emily decides to stay in Las Vegas and rebuild her stolen finances. But what she actually rebuilds is her entire life. She even gambles on a chance for true love and discovers that sometimes in order to find yourself, you have to start from scratch

  Jane Doe

  Brought to you by

  eBooks from Bold Strokes Books, Inc.

  eBooks are not transferable. They cannot be sold, shared or given away as it is an infringement on the copyright of this work.

  Please respect the rights of the author and do not file share.

  Jane Doe

  © 2011 By Lisa Girolami. All Rights Reserved.

  ISBN 13: 978-1-60282-512-3

  This Electronic Book is published by

  Bold Strokes Books, Inc.

  P.O. Box 249

  Valley Falls, New York 12185

  First Edition: April 2011

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission.

  Credits

  Editor: Shelley Thrasher

  Production Design: Susan Ramundo

  Cover Design By Sheri ([email protected])

  By the Author

  Love on Location

  Run to Me

  The Pleasure Set

  Jane Doe

  Acknowledgments

  A big thank-you to Sandy, a fabulous beta reader and New Orleans-kick-about friend!

  Recht schönen Dank, Bettina, for the German lesson.

  Shelley, I thank you every day for teaching me more about how to be a true writer.

  My undying love and thanks to the magical and wonderful city of Las Vegas, whose constant remaking of itself is amazing and where a story like this just could come true.

  Dedication

  For Susan, who loves me for who I am, even on the days when I am not.

  Chapter One

  “B…13.” The caller’s voice crackled over the microphone.

  Emily Carver poked her dauber over the corresponding number on three of her five bingo cards. A blue ink dot bled onto the B13 numbers, then quickly dried.

  “This is so exciting!” her mother, Betty, said from the seat across from her. “It’s worth paying more for our cards this week. Just look at all of them spread out everywhere. Who do you think will win that trip to Las Vegas in the last game? A few more call-outs on this wrap-out and someone’s going to!”

  “Yeah, and I hope that someone is me,” Emily said, although she was only half listening to her mother. She couldn’t look away from her cards—not with so much at stake. If she didn’t concentrate, tonight she could lose the biggest prize ever offered. She wanted that prize.

  “I hope so, too,” Betty said. “You need to start saving for your wedding dress.”

  “G…55.”

  Emily scowled. “What a waste of money. Spend hundreds for a dress you only wear once. That’s stupid.”

  “Honey, don’t be silly. Your wedding should be special.”

  She wasn’t being silly. She just didn’t like all the pomp and circumstance. Emily shook her head and knew what was coming from her mother next.

  “And you haven’t picked your wedding day yet. Time’s running out.”

  Running out for what? She wasn’t pregnant, thank the Lord in heaven. And she sure wasn’t hurrying to be married. What was all the excitement about, anyway? Now, bingo, that was exciting.

  “N…41.”

  Emily dabbed the number on two more cards, but concentrated on the one she needed to fill only one more square on.

  “Emily, you have to get your priorities straight. All your friends are already married. Charles won’t wait forever.”

  “Mom, I’m concentrating.” Charles probably would wait, but she wasn’t sure she cared one way or the other.

  The tension and excitement in the room were palpable. People squirmed in their seats, their heads frozen in a downward position, staring laser beams toward their cards.

  O66…O66, Emily mentally chanted. Just four O numbers left to draw. Come on.

  *

  Royal Wooten raised the loop to her eye and focused on the princess-cut diamond ring. Six prongs held the stone and the setting looked sturdy. Though small inclusions marred the three-quarter-carat diamond, they weren’t noticeable without her magnifier. The gem’s color was rated H or I.

  Royal lowered the loop. “This is real, all right.”

  “Well, that’s good to hear, because nothing else about my creep of a boyfriend was.”

  Royal rolled the ring around with her fingers. “Do you want to pawn this ring or sell it?”

  “Sell it. I never want to see it again. Didja know that he told me he’d divorce his wife? We were playing craps right there at the Golden Nugget, not two days ago.” The woman standing on the other side of Royal’s counter flipped her French-manicured nails in the air. “He dumped me instead. Didja know he had a toupee? Said he was thirty-nine. Thirty-nine, my ass.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.” Royal had lost count of all the I-found-out-he-was-lying stories that accompanied the jewelry that cycled through her pawn shop. She fingered the ring once again and estimated that she could resell it for about sixteen hundred dollars. “I can give you eight hundred for this.”

  The woman’s jaw clenched, then she nodded brusquely. “I don’t know what he paid for it. I’m sure it was a lot more, but I’ll take it. It’ll piss him off that he lost out twice.”

  “I’ll have the cash in your hands in just a minute.” Royal retrieved the paperwork and began to fill out the purchase receipt.

  Maybe someone else would look at this woman and shake their head, appalled that she’d fallen for the stories that man had told her. But Royal wouldn’t. She had believed her own type of foolish stories, only hers were the I’m-straight-but-now-that-I’ve-met-you-I’ll-be-gay tales.

  Chapter Two

  Just give me O66, Emily mouthed silently. She had never been out of Horatio, Oklahoma, and she ached to leave her dusty little town and see Las Vegas, one of the most exciting places imaginable. If the pictures were accurate, there had to be ten thousand lights for every person.

  “I…19.”

  She didn’t need that one. Come on, O66.

  A strange sensation of calm single-mindedness gripped her. She lifted her head to watch the bingo blower. The balls flew around inside and bounced chaotically off one another, seeming to jostle for position.

  Come on, O66.

  The caller reached for the ball shooter and pressed the spring-loaded plunger that would launch the next ball into the playfield.

  Come on, O66.

  A number of balls, sucked up toward the opening of the blower, bumped about frenetically. One lone ball popped free and shot up into the receiving spout, and the caller plucked it out.

  “O…66.”

  “Bingo!” Emily shrieked, throwing her hands up into the air. “Bingo!”

  Her mother shrieked too, and the rest of the church erupted in a buzz of chatter.

  *

  Royal finished a last-minute pawn loan with a regular custom
er.

  “Thanks, Royal. You know I’m good for this,” he said as he pocketed the cash for the gold ring he’d just left with her.

  “I know you are. I haven’t had to sell anything of yours since you started coming in.”

  “No. I don’t like to default. And I sure don’t want to lose my stuff.” He nodded toward his ring. Though it was old, it weighed well over an ounce and would provide him some essential cash. It was still worth enough to keep her safe on the risk, just in case he ever did default.

  Heinrich took the paperwork from her and filed it. Heinrich, with his kind, stately appearance, was by far her oldest employee. They were exactly the same height, about five foot nine, and both had green eyes. His hair was silver while hers was brown, and he was chunky whereas she was lean. In his mid-sixties, Heinrich had the demeanor of someone who had been raised correctly. His German temperament contributed an air of confidence and sophistication to the culture of Lucky Pawn, her shop.

  He had been one of her first customers. She had helped him between paychecks and even between jobs, and when he retired from his office job at an insurance company, he spent even more time just hanging out at the shop.

  Though she always followed the Nevada laws governing how much interest to charge for short-term loans, in the early days when he was a customer, she usually gave him a little more for his collateral items than she would to an unknown customer. He was honest but had trouble making ends meet, and while she was in business to make money, she also believed in helping others when she could. After all, others had helped her many years ago.

  When Royal learned that he was spending so much time there because he was lonely, having lost his wife years earlier, she’d offered to hire him. That way, she always had enough help, since she had three other employees, and could take a little time off.

  “Time to close up shop,” she said as she locked the register and gathered her things. Heinrich locked the file cabinet and waited for her by the back door.

  It was after eight and Pauly, the other employee who had worked that day, had clocked out an hour earlier. Heinrich opened the back door for her, she switched off the lights, and they stepped out into the alley.

  Heinrich walked her to the edge of it and waited until she climbed into her car. “See you tomorrow, Royal.”

  Chapter Three

  “No, we’re not goin’.” Charles leaned against Betty’s counter, noisily eating the last of her Rocky Road ice cream straight from the container.

  Emily and Charles were over at her mother’s house, just as they were every Sunday evening after bingo. Charles worked for the Pepsi Bottling Company, as did most of their friends, and when he sometimes had the Sunday morning shift he’d come by for supper afterward, about the time Emily and Betty returned from bingo.

  Emily liked supper at her mother’s since she didn’t have to cook. Her own apartment was small, so it wasn’t easy to prepare meals there, and Charles’s place was like a fraternity-boy’s pigsty that she avoided visiting.

  “What do you mean, we’re not going?” Emily had cleared the plates from the table and was stacking them in the sink. Betty was trying to busy herself with the long, drawn-out task of returning the butter to the refrigerator.

  “Just like I said.” He scooped a huge spoonful of ice cream into his mouth. “The only time you could go is on a weekend. But I can’t go then. I’ve got work and softball.”

  “Well, thanks for being happy that I won the big prize, Charles.”

  “Congratulations. We’re not going.”

  “Maybe I’ll just take a girlfriend instead.”

  “Nope. Won’t do.” He stopped eating when she flashed a questioning glance. “You’re my girlfriend. You’re supposed to be at my games.” He shrugged innocuously. “That’s what you do.”

  Frustration bubbled up in her throat. “You can’t tell me what I can or can’t do, Charles.”

  “Doesn’t say much when I’m here workin’ and playin’ ball while my girlfriend is gallivantin’ around sin city.”

  “Gallivanting?”

  Charles looked at Betty. “Mama Carver, do you see where I’m comin’ from?”

  Great. Get my own mother on your side.

  “Well, I just pictured you going with Charles, honey. It’s a trip for two, and who knows? Maybe one of those chapels will be open.”

  Charles grinned through another bite of Rocky Road and nodded. “Heh heh heh.”

  That’s the last thing she wanted right then.

  Emily had been with Charles since high school, and he’d grown up just down the street. She hadn’t fallen in love with him. He’d always been around, and they hung out practically every day, so as the years passed they just kind of grew fond of each other. They went to their high-school prom together primarily because everyone assumed they would. He hadn’t even asked her to go. Like everyone else, she’d assumed they’d go, too. But now that they were twenty-eight, church bells followed her practically everywhere. From the local hairdresser to their very geriatric mailman, matrimonial comments rolled out as frequently as “How ’bout this weather?”

  “When are you and Charles gonna take the plunge?”

  “Will this have to be a shotgun wedding, Emily?”

  “You’d better snatch Charles up before somebody else does.”

  They’d had sex exactly three times in the past year and a half. They’d never ripped each other’s clothes off or fallen off the bed in a passionate coupling. Having sex, mostly in her little apartment, was hardly more momentous than satisfying any other bodily function.

  They’d always gotten along well, but she didn’t think sex was important and didn’t care much for it.

  Emily genuinely liked Charles and even loved him, but sometimes she thought maybe she’d love anyone she’d grown up with, just because they’d spent so much of their lives together.

  He could be bossy and, when he felt he should exert his masculine supremacy, would often puff up his chest like a rooster reminding the henhouse that he was the man on the scene. Of course, she’d long ago begun to ignore his show of dominance because she realized in the fifth grade that it wasn’t any more meaningful than if he combed his hair or cleared his throat.

  She’d just nod, then usually go along with him because, most of the time, she didn’t have an opinion either way. He got to feel triumphant and she didn’t really care, so it worked.

  Still, the ordinary, predictable pattern of her life made her want to scream sometimes.

  She called Jenny, her best friend.

  “I can’t go to Las Vegas, Em. I have to work.”

  “Can’t you take the time off?”

  “Don’t you remember? I took last weekend off when we went to Charles and Pete’s softball tournament. Why aren’t you going with Charles?”

  “He doesn’t want to. He’s telling me I can’t either.”

  “Well, I know it would be exciting and all, but shouldn’t you be saving for the wedding?”

  “Jenny, not you, too. Where’s your sense of adventure?”

  Even her second-best friend couldn’t go. Everyone was stuck right where they stood. She was so frustrated because, finally, she had a chance to experience something other than Horatio, Oklahoma. If she didn’t take this trip, this missed opportunity might haunt her the rest of her life.

  *

  Royal idled her car at the employee entrance of the Bullion Casino just off Fremont Street in downtown Las Vegas. The workers entering and exiting the back door all seemed to have one of only two bland expressions. They were neither happy nor sad, just distracted or glazed over. Maybe the time caused it, since it was after two a.m. But perhaps the weather was to blame. The thermometer had hovered around 110 degrees all day, and even though the witching hour had come and gone two hours earlier, the temperature had dropped only fifteen degrees.

  Presently, her friend Delilah Muffington exited. Though she wore the same uniform as many of the other employees, she walked so gracefully she
should have had a queen’s robe draped over her long frame and beautiful black skin instead of been stuffed into a polyester pants suit.

  Clutching an embroidered vest in one hand and a pack of cigarettes in the other, she climbed into Royal’s car and plopped down. “I have to get a new vest, sugar.”

  Delilah had been her best friend for almost ten years, right after Delilah first moved to Las Vegas from Texas. She topped out at six feet, only three inches taller than Royal, but she still seemed to tower over her. Not many people were used to a tall, black cowgirl who could walk a fashion runway right after riding a roping horse, but to Royal, nothing was paradoxical about Delilah. She was extremely authentic and the truest of friends.

  “What’s the matter with that vest?” Royal said as she pulled out into traffic.

  “It’s as tight as a camel’s ass in a sandstorm. Can’t breathe in the damn thing.” Delilah buckled her seatbelt.

  “How are you?”

  Delilah blew out what sounded like an exhausted breath. “What a long crazy day. I don’t know whether to scratch my watch or wind my butt.” She patted Royal’s knee. “Thanks for picking me up. My car will be out of the mechanic’s shop by Friday. I hate to ask, but could you give me a ride tomorrow night, too?”

  “No worries.”

  “I know you get up early, so just remember that I think you’re a saint.”

  Royal laughed. “This hardly compares.” Before Delilah could speak again she added, “And you know what I mean.”

  “I do, honey.”

  As they drove in silence, Delilah stared out the passenger window, then turned back to Royal. “I’m trying to get on the day shift again. This swing shift is killing me.”

  “I hope you do.”

  “The shared tips then aren’t as good, but I need to get back to a decent routine.”

  Royal nodded.

  “Hey, how’s business?”

  “Can’t complain. It’s been really consistent. The loans are going out and coming in, but I’m selling more than normal.” The electronics were especially moving out the door. At pawn-shop rates, they were great bargains. “People love a deal.”