It takes Shiloh just as long to remember I am married as it did me this morning when I contemplated kissing Nero goodbye.
Rebound fucks don’t kiss each other goodbye, but it took me longer than I care to admit to work that out only thirty minutes ago.
“And where was Roy during this…foray?”
“Um…” I pause, swallow, then try again. “The first time, he was in the closet.”
She slaps my arm in shock so firmly that I veer into oncoming traffic.
I’ve only just righted the van, saving our lives, when she asks, “The closet of the hotel where you did the nasty with his mistress’s husband?”
I nod, words above me.
“It could have been worse,” I stammer out when her silence has me desperate for noise. “I could have arrived after Nero had finished what he went there to start.”
To shock someone like Shiloh into silence is scary.
I’ve never seen her so quiet.
“Nero?” she says a short time later, her throat working hard to swallow.
The hair I pulled back in a hurry bobs when I nod.
Her brow is as piqued as her interests. “What hotel did you say it was, again?”
“I didn’t.” My voice is rife with suspicion. Shiloh looks like she’s seen a ghost. That only happens when she has.
“It wasn’t on Westward Boulevard, was it?”
Time slows to a snail’s pace when I slowly jerk up my chin. “Have you heard of it before? It is relatively new.”
Her nod is slow. It is as timed as the words she speaks next. “It is owned by the groom-to-be we’re about to cater for, and everyone this side of the country knows his business partner on that particular project, and many others around Vegas, is named Nero.” She sinks low in her seat, her confusion picking up. “So did you mix pleasure with business, or did Nero take the pleasure out of his business?”
“What do you mean?” I ask, too confused to try to work through my bewilderment alone.
Shiloh waits a beat before saying, “That hotel, and numerous others on the strip,caterfor a certain clientele.”
I nod, recalling the guest in the elevator who mistakenly believed I was a hooker.
“The hotel is co-owned by a man named Nero.” The pieces are slowly slotting into place, so Shiloh whacks them in with a hammer. “So why would Nero’s wife pick that hotel out of all the hotels in Vegas to get naughty with another man?”
That’s a good question, and one I don’t know how to answer.
Mercifully, Shiloh isn’t quiet when she is confused.
She works through her uncertainty out loud.
“She’d have to have a death wish… or she wanted Nero to find out. Those are the only two plausible explanations.” Her words slow as her brows pull together. “Unless…” Worry crosses her cutesy features, hardening them. “When did you say Roy filed, again? Dateandtime?”
“Friday afternoon around five. Why?”
She looks like she wants to slice Roy’s balls off, and I’m right there with her when she says, “Close of business for all banks, insurance agencies, and superannuation funds.”
This time, I veer into oncoming traffic on purpose.
12
NERO
