The Strip by Heather Killough-Walden, Gildart Jackson Read Free Book Online Page A

that knocked her to the ground… and the human hands that turned her over.
    Claire wondered how many times she would dream of the beast before it killed her. Each night, she felt its breath hotter upon her neck and its presence stronger above her. Would it rip her throat out tomorrow night? The night after?
    She wondered whether the whole Freddy Krueger myth might actually be the verity in her case. If it killed her in her sleep, would she really die? The panic attacks she was having of late certainly led her to believe so.
    Claire ran a hand through her long, sweat-dampened hair and turned away from the window. She felt utterly miserable in that moment. She missed her parents. She missed her home. And she was so tired. Suddenly, she came to a decision. She left the window and strode to the bathroom, where marble covered every surface and plush, ultra-soft towels hung on several gold-gilded racks. She turned on the shower and waited the two seconds it took for the water to run extra hot.
    Then she stripped off her nightgown, which clung to her damp skin for a moment before slipping free. She left it on the floor and stepped beneath the hard spray.
    Thirty minutes later, she was pulling an ACDC t-shirt over her head and heading for her front door. She left her hair wet, not wanting to bother with the blow dryer. As a result, it began to curl into long waves as it quickly dried in the natural desert night air.
    Charlie grabbed her denim jacket and the small canvas cross-body purse by the door, slipping it over her shoulder. Her phone was inside. She pulled it out and dialed Mary Jane as she opened her door, stepped out into the private lobby, and let the door close behind her.
    Almost instantly, she felt the eyes of the cameras on her from above. She glanced up as the phone in her hand rang once, twice, a third time. Finally, Mary Jane answered, her voice muffled.
    “What?”
    “M.J., I need to get out. Come with me, please?”
    There was silence on the other end. Charlie stared at the cameras. She blinked and pushed the down button for the elevator.
    “M.J.?”
    “Girl, what the fuck are you talking about?” Still muffled, and now annoyed.
    “I’m talking about you and me going out and getting liquored up.” The elevator began to climb. Claire watched the numbers light up one at a time.
    “Charlie, it’s like 1 a.m. or something-”
    “It’s one a.m. our time, but here in Vegas, it’s only ten. If we’re lucky, we can catch the tail end of a playoff game.”
    “Oh hell no am I getting out of this mega-fine bed to go and watch hockey with you, Charlie.” Mary Jane was sounding more awake now.
    Charlie chewed on her cheek. The elevator was almost there. She would have taken the stairs, but then she’d have been at M.J.’s door by now and the girl still needed some convincing.
    “Okay, then we’ll go wherever you want, I promise. Just get me out of here and get me drunk, M.J. I’m desperate.”
    Mary Jane was silent for several heartbeats. The elevator doors dinged open. Charlie stepped inside. She knew Mary Jane was seriously considering this opportunity.
    M.J.’s going-out preferences tended a little toward the un -safe. Like mega-flirting with guys that she knew hated each other. And hitching rides with bikers with too many tattoos. And, dancing on bars when she’d neglected to put on any underwear. That kind of thing. So, usually, Charlie would dictate where they went out, if for no other reason than to keep from getting into any fights.
    “I thought you were exhausted, Charlie.” Now Mary Jane sounded concerned. It was no secret amongst the band members that Claire hadn’t been sleeping well. And that kind of irked her. She didn’t want pity. She wanted oblivion.
    “I am, M.J.” Charlie sighed. “Trust me. Now, are you gonna help me out or not?”
    Mary Jane seemed to come to a decision. Her voice was much more solid when she finally said, “Okay, but we should wake the boys.”
    “No. No way.