Edward walked through the foyer. He'd heard the bell but waited to see how persistent his guests were and he found out rather quickly. The man on the other side of the wall had very little patience.
The bell buzzed again. Their visitor knocked a few times and then called out, “Is anyone home or not?"
Edward swung open the door. “Right on time. You must be Stan Graves,” he said, eyeing his two arm ornaments.
"Brought you a treat, Brady,” he said in a raspy voice.
"Did you?"
"A surprise,” he said, slapping his back. “This here is Shelby and over here is Margo. They work for me out at The Love Parlor. I thought since we never have the pleasure of your company out there, I'd bring a little sweet temptation to your door."
"A housewarming present?” Edward asked, dismissing the girls.
"Something like that,” Stan grated out, stuffing a cigar between his lips. “So where are these furniture pieces I'm hearing about?"
Edward glanced at the women. “Ladies, if you'll wait upstairs."
Graves shook his head. “I didn't say I'd let you keep the babes. Bang ‘em, sure. But longer than a couple of hours and we start running a tab, you get me?"
"Yeah,” Edward said, not getting him at all.
"You feel me, brother, don't ‘cha?” he asked, slapping his jaws.
What a wise guy wannabe. If Edward owned a gun, he'd probably put the old guy out of his misery. He'd risen to the top of Las Vegas with one of the most profitable brothels in Nevada. His brothel was the closest to Las Vegas. Sure, the guy made good on a dirty deal. He killed someone and took what he wanted, but he still wasn't confident he'd earned that respect guys like Stan Graves longed to have. “I don't have all day,” he said in that throaty voice. “Show me the pretties."
Edward grinned, waved his arm in front of Stan's body and said, “Right this way."
"Girls,” Stan said, moving the cigar to the corner of his mouth.
The little obedient bunnies followed Stan through the hallway. Edward was so excited about what he was about to see, he almost came in his pants. Thanks to Barron and Heidi putting their heads together, and a little test run on the video recorder, they'd figured out what Heidi needed in order for a man to see her.
She had to be fully empowered—steam empowered—and Heidi owned plenty of steam. She'd been on the train for the last hour. The rage Stan stirred inside her provided better stimulation than artificial toys, and according to Heidi, was even better than sex, though Edward would have to see that for himself.
Stan rounded the corner and stopped short. Edward and Heidi locked gazes. She acted like she didn't see Stan and Stan acted like he didn't see her.
Stan loosened his tie. “So this is it?"
"Oh, Edward, Oh! I'm coming! Edward!"
Stan removed his jacket. “You uh..."
"Edward, help! Hot! Fucking hot!"
"Is something wrong, Graves?"
Stan looked at Barron who stood in the middle of the tracks shoveling coal. His gaze drifted up and he matched Heidi's wicked grin.
"Hello, Stan,” she said, once the tracks slowed.
Barron hit the lever and she dangled above Stan, her body fully exposed. An aging fellow like Graves should've taken notice, should've been aroused, but he wasn't. He was petrified and the uneasiness marked its spot with beads of sweat dotting his brow.
He cleared his throat and looked accusingly at Edward and Barron. “Is this some kind of joke?"
"Joke?” Edward asked. “You don't like the machine?"
"I don't like her on the machine,” he said, pointing toward Heidi.
"Who?” Barron asked, dropping the shovel.
"Her!” Stan yelled, pointing.
Barron lifted his hands, palms up. “Her, who?"
Heidi grinned. “They can't see me, lover."
Stan growled. “Then why did he say something about a demonstration?"
Edward grinned. “A ghost lives here."
"A ghost?"
"Yes. You're probably being taunted by her now.” Edward chuckled. “She's a friendly ghost."
"I'll bet,” Stan grumbled.
"Friendly to those who appreciate a good woman,” Heidi said, swinging free of her harness and prancing right by him.
He fingered his cigar and studied her ass. “Your ghost has a great lookin’ ass."
"A young ass too, Graves."
"The hell you are,” he bit out.
"I beg your pardon?” Barron asked, stepping away from the tracks.
He snickered. “Your ghost is a little testy today."
Heidi leaned over Stan's back. “Want to know why I'm testy, Stan?"
He froze. His shoulders squared. The man looked downright pale.
"That's what I thought. I was young. I was happy. I was in love. And you killed me!"
"Can, uh, you fellows hear what she's saying?"
Barron shook his head and arched a brow. “Why? Is she scaring you or something?"
Edward crossed his arms and glared at Graves. “Barron and I will go entertain your guests if you'd like to have a moment alone with the resident ghost."
"Yeah, uh, why don't you do that? I believe a minute will be plenty and I'll be done here."
"Sure,” Edward said, rushing around the corner and slamming the door to the media room.
Barron slipped in a moment later. There, in the middle of the screen, the entire Heidi and Stan story unfolded for a captive audience.
Stan stalked her. Heidi didn't budge except when she sashayed over to the settee to pluck her robe from the furniture. She shrugged the silk over her shoulders and left the robe open down the middle. She wanted to taunt him and by the looks of things, she was breaking him.
"I know where you buried me."
Stan narrowed his gaze on her breasts. “What was that?"
"The stupid fuck still thinks she's sexy as hell,” Barron said, watching the big screen.
"She is sexy as all hell,” Edward pointed out, turning up the volume.
"I said I know where my body is buried."
Stan ran his splayed fingers through his hair. “What is all this, Heidi? Hmm?"
"I can't rest in peace."
"Peace? Fuck peace! You didn't have a moment's peace when you were alive and now you want to talk about having it in the afterlife?"
"You came here to kill Edward. I heard you tell him you had a treat, a surprise for him. You'll have to go through me to do it."
He chuckled. “If you think you can stop me now when you couldn't stop me thirty years ago, you're one crazy bitch."
"Am I?"
"His partners aren't happy. He's a liability. They want him extinguished."
"And you're a hit man now?"
"I do clean work,” he reminded her.
"How could I forget?"
He chuckled. “What do you want, Heidi? What can I give you now that I didn't give you back then? Want a good fuck for the road? Is that what you want?"
She dropped her hands protectively in front of her body. “From you? No. I had that this morning from Barron and Edward. Besides, old men with bimbos half their age are anything but sexy."
"You expect me to believe you're fucking the Vegas nerds?"
She took a step forward and opened her robe. “Look at me, Stan. Do I look like a sated woman to you?” She grinned. “Amazing what a young man can do for a woman my age. Two of them? Well, as you know from experience, there's nothing quite like double stuffing."
"Huh, I bet they get a kick out of forking a corpse."
He reached out and touched her breast. She flinched and then slapped him. “Are you happy now? Do I feel real to you, you fucking son-of-a-bitch?"
He snarled. “I knew I should've burned your body. I knew it! Instead, I let that damn bimbo from the club talk me into burying you on property. They wanted their damn swimming pool and thought it would be cool to have you buried nearby, kind of like a symbolic meaning."
"And what would that be, Stan? Hmm? Don't drown yourself in love because if you find the wrong lover, he'll swim and you'll sink?"
He gritted his teeth. “Actually, the memorial was along the lines of Heidi Labeidi's Love Parlor. She lived here. She loved here. And she died here. God rest her soul because no one else wanted it. Her body was the only thing she had, an outer shell to a cold hearted woman."
"You mother fucker!” she said, propelling her arm back.
Stan caught her in mid-air. “You do feel real. How could that be?"
"Love set me free, Stan."
He chuckled. “It killed you too, didn't it?"
"You killed me."
"Don't take it so personally. You had something I wanted."
"The club?"
"The club, the money, this place,” he said, grinning wider. “You were a wealthy babe, Heidi, and I got tired of fucking the golden pussy. Ya know?"
"I would've given you everything."
"You gave me nothing. I took what I wanted."
She pursed her lips and looked over his shoulder. “Did you get that, boys?"
"Every last word,” Edward said, exiting the media room.
A few blue suits trailed behind Edward. Stan looked like he'd seen a ghost when they cuffed him but he wasn't the one who looked most surprised. The two gals from the club stared at Heidi like they'd just met Elvis.
"You owned The Love Parlor?” one of them asked.
"It was mine and now,” she turned to Edward and Barron. “The Love Parlor belongs to Edward and Barron."
"You can't give us the club,” Edward said.
"Why the hell not?” Barron asked, grumbling under his breath and eyeing the two buxom beauties.
Heidi touched his face. “It's the only thing that makes sense. As long as I have your creations nearby, I can survive and if you take your designs to The Love Parlor, I'll be able to help you sell to a wide and diverse market while running my business the way I always wanted to run it."
"You said it right there. Your business. The Love Parlor is yours, not mine and Barron's, but yours."
"Yes, but a dead woman can't own property."
"She can't leave it to heirs either, especially thirty years after the fact."
"Stranger things have happened, Edward."