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slots was an ever-present jangle in the background of the lobby. This place oozed class. Ned went over to the concierge desk, occupied despite the late hour.
    â€œI want to speak to Donny Salgado.”
    The concierge, a smart-mouthed looking spic kid in tailored charcoal silk, raised an eyebrow. Ned bit back an insult and tried again.
    â€œMr. Donny Salgado. He was a resident of the Desert Inn.”
    â€œAh. Well, sir, I suggest you might try Planet Hollywood. Starwood owns that property.”
    What the hell was Planet fucking Hollywood? Never mind. Starwood was the big conglomerate that had owned the Desert Inn. Donny had an interest. He had his fingers in a lot of pies in Vegas.
    â€œYou got a phone I can use to call over there?”
    The guy’s polite smile wilted a little, but he picked up a phone and dialed, then handed the receiver to Ned. After a couple of rings, a woman’s voice answered.
    â€œPlanet Hollywood.”
    â€œYeah, is Donny Salgado staying there?”
    She hesitated. “I’m not able to give you that information, sir, I’m sorry.”
    â€œOK, if he’s there, I want you to connect me to his room.”
    â€œIt’s after two in the morning—”
    â€œI know that!” Fucking bitch. “Just connect me.”
    â€œPlease hold,” she said in a voice gone frosty.
    He held. The concierge was shuffling brochures on his desk, obviously wishing Ned would leave. Ned turned his back and leaned against the desk.
    Finally the phone started ringing. He counted seven rings before the sound of someone fumbling to pick up on the other end.
    â€œWhat?” said a cranky voice.
    â€œDonny, it’s Ned. I need your help.”
    â€œWhat the fuck? Who is this?”
    â€œIt’s Ned.”
    Silence. Then a click. He’d hung up.
    Ned turned to the concierge. “We got disconnected. Could you redial it?”
    The smile was gone by now, replaced by the beginnings of a frown. Ned smiled instead, the ho-ho-I’m-just-a-big-overgrown-kid smile that usually made points with the chicks. The concierge barely stifled a sigh and punched the phone. Ned gave him a big grin and a nod, then turned around again.
    This time Donny picked up after three rings. Ned shouted over Donny’s cussing.
    â€œDonny don’t hang up. It’s me, Ned. I need your help, buddy.”
    â€œWhoever the fuck you are, this is one sick, tasteless joke!”
    â€œDon, it’s me, Neddy! C’mon, pal, I need you! Look I’m coming over, all right? What’s your room number.”
    â€œFuck you, that’s my number.”
    â€œWait, wait, wait! OK, I’ll meet you in the lobby, then. Please, Don old buddy. I really need a friend right now. And could you lend me a hundred? I gotta pay the cab.”
    A pause. “You sure do sound like Ned.”
    Ned laughed. “Yeah, well, what do I gotta do to convince you?” He dropped his voice, cupping a hand over the phone. “Look, I’m not dead, OK? I’m alive and I need your help.”
    â€œFffuuuck.”
    Ned waited, shifting from foot to foot. He could feel the concierge’s eyes boring into the back of his head.
    â€œOK,” Donny said slowly. “In the lobby, then. Fucking Christ.”
    Donny hung up and Ned handed back the phone with another big smile. “Thanks.”
    The concierge hung up the phone, glanced at Ned’s hands, and saw no tip forthcoming. His face turned sour and he said nothing. Ned hurried away, out the big glass doors that slid aside with a whisper, out into the sweltering night. He was half afraid the cabbie would have left, but she was still there, snapping her gum and watching the meter tally up the bucks.
    Beyond the cab sat the black Lincoln. The back of Ned’s neck prickled as he froze in his tracks.
    The back door of the limo swung open and a woman leaned toward him, her cleavage drawing his gaze. Something sparkled there, a