Kevin was stretched out on the king-size bed, eating a large hot fudge sundae and watching a black-and-white gangster tape he'd rented from the hotel. Now this is a vacation! he thought with a big smile. On the TV screen a shapely woman let herself into a dimly lit room and tiptoed past the dark silhouette of a Christmas tree. "Hold it right there!" a raspy voice ordered. The startled woman gasped. "It's just me, Johnny." The lights went on, revealing Johnny, a tough-looking man with greased back hair, wearing a satin smoking jacket. He was a gangster. "I knew it was you, Carlotta," Johnny said. "I could smell ya gettin' off the elevator." "It's gardenias, Johnny," Carlotta said nervously. "Your favorite." Johnny didn't seem impressed. "You was here last night, too, wasn't ya?" "No, I was singin' at the Blue Monkey last night," Carlotta replied. On the bed, Kevin shook his head. "Don't listen to her, Johnny." Johnny didn't. "No you wasn't. You was here." "That's a dirty rotten lie, Johnny." Carlotta sounded hurt.
