At first, I stand there in a daze before walking back with my head hanging. I’m running away—like always.
Like Mom did.
I suddenly stop.
Don’t you dare just leave, Kansas Montgomery! This time, you don’t run away. You walk through there now, and after the opening, ask your mom why she let you down and if she will help you now for once in her life. With River, with Dad, with Chester, and all the lies from Cottage Grove.
Yes. I have to do that. There is no other option now.
I turn on my heels and target the two guards. The exhibition is only screened by them, and one of them is currently checking the card of a lady in a midnight blue evening dress that looks like a work of art made of paper. It reminds me of origami, and River’s dark blue eyes immediately appear in front of me.Hey, Tucks.
No.
He won’t solve my problem for me.
I plan my approach in my head. I know I’ll never get past the guards the normal way. The shopping mall is only cordoned off with tape, so I could just jump over it. I look at the poster next to me again. The opening is in the former Tivoli Hall, which is currently empty and will be transformed into a sushi temple in the fall. Okay. I just need to get behind the tape and find Tivoli Hall. It can’t be that far away because cordoning off the shops, even if it’s just a small area, would surely cost a fortune.Even though Frank Fox, Mom’s third husband, is a member of Caesars Entertainment.
The Power of Masks.Entrance 7 p.m. I simply have to make it to Mom. The lady in the origami dress has to be a latecomer since the opening has already begun. Mom has to be there.
I run, determined to use the element of surprise because the guards have their backs to me again.
I’m about seven steps from them when they hear me. Five when they turn. The one on the left widens his eyes, and the other, who previously shooed me away, spreads his arms as if he wants to capture me.
I swerve to the right, jump over the rope like I’m hurdling, and stumble, catching myself with my hands so I keep running.
“Miss, come back! Admission is for invited guests only!” one of them shouts after me, and I hear him following, but I have a head start.
I sprint frantically toward the colossal fountain, climb over the edge, and dive behind Pegasus, his wings spread wide. Thank God this fountain is so huge.
“Entry is strictly prohibited, miss. I’ll have to take you into custody if you don’t come back immediately!”
Shit!In the cold water, I wade past the Roman figures, a sea dragon, and a merman with a trident.
The security guard can no longer see me. Maybe he thinks I climbed out the other side and escape. I think of River’s lessons about escape. Lesson one: Stay close; they won’t suspect it.
Now I know why he’s so good at it. I quickly click the acoustic signal generator off my jeans, clamp the carabiner between my teeth, and lie down on my stomach in the water. I desperately suppress the cold shiver. The fountain is round, with sea gods enthroned on a rocky landscape in the middle. From there, water rushes tirelessly down into a wide collecting basin, which is guarded by legendary figures at the outer edge. Like a seal, I crawl forward along this inner ring of water, three-quarters of the way around, always under the protection of the legendary figures.
Through the rushing noise, I hear a man cursing. He must think I climbed out halfway through.
This is my chance. I crawl to the edge, climb out of the well with my clothes soaking wet, and automatically put thebeeper in my pocket as I blink the water out of my eyes. In the shopping mall directly in front of me, in one of the square’s radial branches, a large crowd of people is gathered in front of a shop. Flashbulbs go off—of course, the press is present. Only the crème de la crème are invited to a vernissage: art lovers, politicians, patrons of the artist, usually the gallery owner, maybe the mayor, and members of Caesars Entertainment.
Trying not to make any hectic movements, I keep walking and discover a few paintings on chrome stands lining the passage as if they were appetizers. They’re oil paintings. One, in particular, catches my eye: a profile of a tiny head with an oversized dark mask that appears diabolical. It occurs to me again that Demons ’N Saints was supposed to have performed here if Asher Blackwell hadn’t canceled all the concerts.
Oh, River...
As if in a trance, I approach the picture.
Alcohol and drugs, of course. What else, Jamesville? It’s always like that with rock stars, isn’t it?
I close my eyes for a moment because the surreal paintings begin to swirl around me. I still don’t want to believe it.
“There she is!” someone shouts through the passage, and the words break loudly against the vaulted ceiling. I glance over my shoulder. The two security guards are approaching.
Mom!I want to scream, like I used to when I needed help, but the words are sealed inside me. I reflexively tear the painting next to me off its stand and hold it up like a hostage.
Don’t come any closer, or I’ll destroy it!I try to convey, and apparently, people in Las Vegas understand this language.
“Calm down, miss. We can talk about everything.”
