What Happens in Vegas. . .

by Lisa S.


AUTHOR'S NOTES: A HUGE thank you to Rhonda and Sue for being my sounding board and reading over my various drafts and to Antoinette/RiverOtter for betaing the story. A special thanks to Sarah for creating this wonderful AU for us to play in.

DISCLAIMER: Mag7/Las Vegas alternate universe was created by Sarah (aka Midnight Profit) and is based on the "Las Vegas" TV series. This AU is not related to the Mag7/Las Vegas RPG created by Lisa O. and Ruby. Trilogy, MGM, and the Mirisch Corporation own "The Magnificent Seven" characters. NBC Studios, NBC Universal Television, DreamWorks Television, and Gary Scott Thompson Productions own "Las Vegas." They are not mine. The only purpose of this story is for entertainment. No money is being made.


Montecito's Head Valet Josiah Sanchez took a moment to wipe the sweat from his brow with a handkerchief before sliding it back into his pocket. His valet staff had been swamped all morning with incoming arrivals and he didn't see it letting up anytime soon.

As a yellow taxi pulled up, he moved forward to open the passenger door to greet the newest visitors.

"Welcome to the Montecito," said Josiah in a deep voice as three men emerged from the cab.

"Thanks," said the shorter one as he pushed his glasses farther up onto his nose while checking out his surroundings.

"Are you gentlemen here for a convention?" asked Josiah as he made small talk while removing their luggage from the back of the vehicle and placing it on the cart.

"Yea . . . we're here for the UFO abductees' convention," said the taller man.

"UFO abductees?" repeated Josiah who had thought he had heard of every possible convention there was, but clearly he was wrong.

"You'd be surprised at how many of us are out there," said the chubby one with a receding hairline. "Unfortunately, people are afraid to talk about it . . . but we're trying to change that with this convention . . . let folks know it's ok to talk about their extraterrestrial experiences . . ."

"Is that a surveillance camera?" interrupted the shorter one who spotted the device that was discreetly tucked away on the ceiling.

"Yes, sir, it is," replied Josiah. "We have them in various locations for the protection of our guests and employees."

"Where do the transmissions go?"

"To our security control room," said the Head Valet.

"Are you sure they're not being intercepted by the mother ship?" continued the nervous man.

"Mother ship?" repeated Josiah while trying not to laugh. "Yes, sir, I'm sure they're not going to the mother ship . . . they just go to our security control room. . ."

"Do you know if it is possible not to get a room near the roof?" asked the taller one.

"Sir, our main reception desk can help you with your room allocation," said Josiah. "I'm sure it won't be a problem to get you a room on one of the lower floors. . ."

"Good, cause I don't want to be near the roof in case THEY come back to take me again. . ."

"They?" asked Josiah who suddenly wished he hadn’t asked.

"The aliens," said the chubby fella. "They can come at anytime so we always have to be prepared. . ."

"Ahh. . . ok . . ." said Josiah. "Well, if you go through those main doors and to the left, Main Reception will assist you."

"Thanks," said the shorter man.

"Have a nice stay at the Montecito and enjoy your convention," said Josiah. "Your luggage will be taken directly to your room." As the three men walked away, Josiah shook his head. UFO abductees? Who would have thought there would be enough of an interest for a convention?


Security Chief Chris Larabee was reviewing the latest incident reports when his phone rang. Picking it up on the second ring, he answered, "Security. Larabee speaking."

"Mr. Larabee," said the female voice on the other end. "This is Shirley Unsworth." Shirley was Orin Travis' special assistant and was often described as the guardian of Travis' calendar and his gatekeeper. If you wanted to see Orin Travis you had to go through her.

"Hi Shirley, what's going on?" asked Chris as he paused in his reading to focus on the phone conversation.

"Mr. Travis had asked me to give you a call . . . he had to go out of town unexpectedly with his wife . . . her sister was sick . . ."

"I'm sorry to hear that . . . I hope she's ok," said Chris.

"Well, Mr. Travis was supposed to participate in an event at the Montecito and he asked that you take his place," explained Shirley.

"What event is that?" asked Chris.

"The wet t-shirt contest," answered Shirley.

"A . . . wet . . . t-shirt . . . contest," replied Chris slowly, hoping he didn't hear her correctly.

"That's right," said Shirley while smiling at the other end. It was pretty obvious that the Head of Security was not happy.

Damn, thought Chris as he held back a groan. "There's no one else who can do it?" asked Chris in a hopeful voice.

"No sir, Mr. Travis said to ask you," replied Shirley.

Chris rubbed his forehead; he could feel a headache coming on. "Alright . . ."

After jotting down the specifics of when and where the contest would be, Chris ended the phone call and sat back in his chair.

"Can this day get any better?" muttered Chris to himself.

His question was answered with a knock on the door and the appearance of his youngest team member, JD Dunne.

"Hey Chris, you've got a visitor," said JD excitedly.

"Visitor?" repeated Chris. He wasn't expecting any visitors today. Then he heard it . . . the all-to-familiar voice that still on occasion haunted his nightmares.

"Mr. Larabee . . . it's so good to see you," said TV and movie producer, Jock Steele, as he walked into the Security Chief's office and took a seat in the visitor's chair.

Chris gritted his teeth to keep from saying a few choice expletives. "Mr. Steele . . . to what do we owe the visit," said Chris.

"Didn't Mr. Travis tell you?" said Jock. "I'm here to film some stock footage for my hit TV show, 'Las Vegas'."

Chris inwardly groaned. "He must have forgotten to tell me," he said finally. "I'm sure it was just an oversight."

"Oh . . . well, I hope it's not a problem," said Steele. "I promise I won't get in the way. . . and I'll be quiet as a mouse."

Chris found that hard to believe but he held his tongue. "Hey JD," he called out.

A moment later the eager young man was at the doorway. "Yeah, boss."

"Mr. Steele is here to film around the hotel. Escort him around . . . make sure no one gives him any trouble," instructed Chris while thinking it was more the other way around . . . that he didn't cause any trouble himself.

"Sure thing, Chris."

"Thank you, Mr. Larabee," said Jock. "I promise you will never know I'm here. . ."

The Security Chief seriously doubted that . . . he had a sinking suspicion that the worst was yet to come. Finally he said, "If you need anything, just ask JD . . . he'll make sure you're taken care of . . ."

The movie producer nodded as he stood, extending his hand and Chris shook it.

"Good day, Mr. Larabee," said Jock before leaving the office.

"Mr. Steele, are the rumors true that you're gonna do another zombie movie?" asked JD as the two men walked out of the security office.

"It's just between the two of us, right?" replied Jock as he paused for a moment in his walking.

JD nodded in agreement.

"It looks like 'Zombie Cowboys Ride Again' will be my next big hit," responded Steele enthusiastically.

"Ah man . . . I can't wait," replied JD. "I promise I won't tell a soul . . ."

"Well, you can maybe tell a friend or two," said Jock, knowing that the more buzz there was about the movie the bigger the ticket and DVD sales would be.


Nora, one of Montecito's Housekeepers, was making her rounds cleaning rooms on the eleventh floor. She had been working at the resort for several months now and even though the work could be grueling, she had great coworkers who she now considered friends, and most importantly a steady pay check. Parking her cart outside room 1122, she pulled out her clipboard to record her work.


Nora looked up and glanced in both directions. She thought she heard someone yelling for help.


There it was again. Walking down to the next door . . . room 1124 . . . she listened.


The cry was definitely coming from this room. She knocked on the door. "Housekeeping . . . are you alright?"

"HELP!! I'm in here . . ." yelled the male voice on the other end.

Opening the door with her passkey, Nora stayed just outside the door and said in a loud voice, "Sir . . . I'm from housekeeping . . . do you require assistance? Do you need a doctor?"

"Yes!! I need help! I'm in the bathroom"

"Hold on and I'll get the doctor and security. . ." she replied as she followed security protocol and reached for her phone and called for help.

It was less than five minutes when she saw the Montecito's on-call physician, Nathan Jackson, and Hospitality Host, Buck Wilmington, exit off the elevator.

"What's up Nora?" asked Buck as they approached. He had a quiet day with no whales in town and was helping security out.

"There's a guest in this room who was yelling for help," explained Nora. "I opened the door and announced who I was and asked if he needed a doctor. He said he did and he was in the bathroom. That's when I called for help."

"Thanks," said Nathan. "Why don’t you wait out in the hallway and keep any wayward guests from nosing around?"

As the two men walked into the hotel room, Nathan said in a loud voice, "Sir . . . my name is Nathan Jackson. I'm the on-call physician here at the Montecito and I have Buck Wilmington from Security with me. We were told you required assistance. . ."

"Yes . . . I'm in the bathroom," said the male voice.

The two men stopped at the door to the lavatory, preparing themselves for whatever they might find on the other side of the door. "Ok, we're coming in. . ." announced Nathan as he opened the door slowly. The two men froze at the sight before them. There was their 'distressed' guest sitting in a bubble bath.

"Mr. . ." started Nathan with a look of confusion on his face.

"Tilton, Bob Tilton," interjected the male guest.

"Mr. Tilton, what can we do to help?"

"Well, I'm kind of embarrassed to say," admitted the man as a blush covered his face. "But I'm stuck. . ."

"Stuck?" repeated Buck.

"My toe . . . it's stuck in the tub faucet," explained Bob as he pointed to his foot.

Nathan didn't even want to ask how or why it happened as he stepped forward to examine the situation.

"And I really need to get it out . . . I'm introducing our special guest . . . Bob Hope . . ."

"I thought he had died . . ." commented Buck.

"Well, not the REAL Bob Hope . . . he's an impersonator . . ." continued Bob Tilton. "And we were really lucky to get him to come to our Bob convention."

"Bob convention?" asked Nathan as he paused in his examination of his wedged toe.

"Yea . . . it's a convention for anyone whose name is Bob," said the guest. "There are a lot of us out there, you know. . .

"Well, let's see if we can get you out of here then," said Nathan as he reached for his medical bag that he always carried with him on his calls and pulled out a jar of Vaseline.

Bob watched as he applied the Vaseline to his big toe.

"Ok, are you ready?" asked Nathan.

Bob nodded.

"Ok, on the count of three I'm going to turn on the water and I want you to try to pull at your end, ok?" instructed the doctor.


"One . . . two . . . three . . ." started Nathan who then turned the bathtub faucet on high. A few seconds later a loud pop could be heard as Bob's toe was released from its confines.

"You did it! Thank you so much!" said an excited Bob as he made a move to stand.

"Woa there, Bob," said Buck quickly. "How about if we leave to give you some privacy. . ."

"Oh . . . ok. . ." said Bob. "Thanks again. . ."

"No problem, glad we could help," said Nathan as he closed his medical bag and stood. "Good luck at the convention. . ."

"You should stop by if you have time," said Bob.

"Maybe I will," said Nathan before the two men walked out, closing the door behind him.

"Well, I guess we should be glad it was just his toe stuck," said Buck softly to ensure Bob didn't hear him. "And not some other appendage."

The two men were able to hold back on the laughter until after they left the room and closed the door behind them.


With JD out of the office escorting the TV producer, Vin Tanner was busy keeping an eye on the security monitors. After taking a bite of his chocolate covered donut, his phone began to ring. It never fails, he thought. Just when you take a bite of food the phone starts to ring. Swallowing quickly, he answered it on the third ring.

"Security . . . Tanner speaking."

"Vin. . . this is Eugene in the kitchen," said the chef at the other end. "We've got a slight problem down here."

"What's up?" asked Vin as he sat up in his chair.

"Well, we're out of aluminum foil. . ." said Eugene.

"You're out of aluminum foil . . . maybe you should order some more," suggested Vin who was wondering why the kitchen would call with this request.

"No, you don't understand," clarified Eugene. "We had some earlier but it's all gone . . . it's like it was all taken . . ."

"Taken? You mean someone came into the kitchen and took all the aluminum foil?" asked Vin.


"Why would they do that?" asked Vin.

"I don't know but I'm hoping you can find out," said Eugene.

"Ok, let me see what's on the security tapes and I'll get back to you," said Vin.

"Thanks Vin, I appreciate it."

As Vin hung up the phone, Buck returned back to the security spaces while Chris stepped out of his office in search of caffeine.

"What's up?" asked the Security Chief.

"Kitchen just called . . . someone's stole all their aluminum foil," explained Vin.

"Aluminum foil?" repeated both Chris and Buck at the same time.

"Yep . . . I told 'em I would check the security tapes to see if I can find the culprits," stated Vin.

Chris nodded in acknowledgement. "How did the security call go with room 1124?" asked Chris to the Hospitality Host.

"Well, it seemed Bob got his big toe stuck in the bathtub faucet while enjoying his bubble bath," explained Buck.

Both Chris and Vin held back grins as Buck continued, "Nathan was able to free him with some Vaseline . . . so crisis diverted. . ."


"Well, stud, when were you going to tell me," stated Buck as a huge grin broke across his face.

"Tell you what?" asked Chris as confusion crossed his brow.

"About your new duty as judge at the wet t-shirt contest," replied Buck.

"Oh . . . that," said Chris as he held back a groan. He still wasn't pleased with the idea.

"Don't tell me you're not happy about it," said Buck as he feign shock.

"I'm not like you Buck . . ." stated Chris.

"Clearly that's the case . . . 'cause if you were like me you'd be thrilled at the prospect of judging a bevy of beauties . . ." announced Buck. "You know . . . maybe I should do it . . . take your place at the judging 'cause my workload is kind of light at the moment and you're clearly swamped here in security with the crazed aluminum foil culprits . . ."

"He does have a point," interjected a smiling Vin.

To tell you the truth, Chris thought Buck's suggestion just might be the one thing that could turn his day around. "Well, if you don't mind going in my place . . ." started Chris.

"Not at all!" interrupted Buck. "It'll be my honor to represent the Montecito at this very prestigious wet t-shirt contest."

Chris shook his head at Buck's obvious excitement. "The specifics are on the post-it note on my desk."

"Got it!" said Buck as he quickly headed up to Chris' office, taking the steps two at a time.

"I'm gonna go get some coffee . . . will be back in a few," stated Chris.

"Roger that . . . I'll be here searching the security tapes for the aluminum foil culprits. . ." said Vin.


For the past two hours JD has been escorting Jock Steele and his camera guy, Gary, around as they filmed various parts of the hotel for his TV series.

"Mr. Steele, to what do we owe the pleasure of your return visit at our fine establishment?" asked Pit Boss Ezra Standish when they ran into him in the casino.

"Just here to shoot some establishing shots for my hit TV series, 'Las Vegas'," said Jock as he shook the man's hand. "Have you seen it? It's on Wednesday nights at 8:00. . ."

"Can't say that I have except for the pilot episode you sent us," admitted Ezra as he deflated the TV producer's bubble.

"I'm ready for the shot," interrupted Gary as he held the camera.

"What shot might that be?" asked a curious Ezra.

"I was hoping to get a panning shot of the casino . . . start at the blackjack tables and end at the slot machines," explained Jock Steele.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Steele, but no cameras are allowed in the casino," stated JD.

"You can't make an exception for me?" asked Jock as he looked pleadingly at the young security officer.

"Mr. Dunne is correct. No photography equipment is allowed in the casino," reinforced Ezra. "Perhaps you can find the perfect location outside . . . might I suggest the pool area?"

"Excellent suggestion, Mr. Standish," said Jock who had fond memories of the pool area from his previous visit. "Hopefully I will see you again before I leave."

"Indeed." Ezra gave a two finger salute to the departing men.

"So, Mr. Steele, do you ever need extras for your TV series?" asked a hopeful JD as they walked out of the casino.

"Sometimes we do," replied Steele as they walked through the automatic doors to the adult pool area. "In fact maybe, if your schedule allows, you can come out to LA and be an extra in the series. . . "

"Oh, that would be so cool," said JD enthusiastically. "Just tell me when and I'll request leave. . ."

"I'll have my assistant call you to work out the details," replied Steele. "Now . . . here we are . . . the adult pool area. . . this is the perfect location. . ."

There were several female guests sunning topless as well as a few individuals in the pool.

"Do you think that's wise?" asked JD. "I mean your show is PG and all and those woman are . . . well . . . topless. . ."

"There is always a way around that, Mr. Dunne," said Steele. "Watch and learn. . ."

The TV producer approached the beautiful women and explained what he wanted to do and if they were willing to participate. It didn't take long to get them to agree and to get the 'shot' lined up.

"ACTION!" said Jock as the camera panned over the five topless females lying face down on the chaise lounges, swept past the outdoor bar area, and then to the swimming pool where several couples were laughing and having fun, again the topless females were strategically placed so nothing was seen.

When finished, Jock said, "CUT! Great job everyone . . . thanks for your help . . . and don't forget to watch 'Las Vegas' on Wednesday nights at eight. . ."

"Where to next?" asked JD.

"How about the front entrance . . . I want to capture some of the guests arriving. . ." suggested Jock.

"Ok," said JD and then gave the Head Valet a heads up that they were coming their way through the security mic he wore.


"Gotcha!" said Vin triumphantly as he finally found the aluminum foil culprits on the security tapes. Standing up, he headed up to Chris' office to let him know.

"Hey Chris . . . I found out who stole the aluminum foil . . . looks like it's several folks from that UFO abductees convention," said Vin after knocking on his door. "I'm gonna go head down to their room and see what's up. . ."

"Need any back up?" asked Chris.

"Nah . . . I've got this one," said Vin.

Chris nodded as Vin headed out the door to the UFO abductees convention room. On his way there, Chris alerted him through the communication device that they just lost the picture in the security camera in that room.

"Ok, I'll check that out too," said Vin.

"Be careful," said Chris who never liked to underestimate a situation.

"Will do," replied Vin as he reached the door to the convention hall in question. When he opened it, he froze as he muttered, "What the hell. . ." Well, at least he found out why all the aluminum foil was stolen he thought as he took in room that was now covered completely with foil – the walls, ceiling, and even floor. Not to mention there were a couple individuals walking around with homemade foil hats.

"Sir, can I help you?" asked a pretty brunette woman as she twirled her foil-lined umbrella.

"I'd like to talk to who's in charge here," said Vin. "I'm from Montecito's security. . ."

"Oh, that would be Larry . . . hold on and I'll get him," said the woman before she quickly left.

A few moments later Larry returned. "Can I help you?"

"Yes, sir, my name's Vin Tanner, I'm from Montecito's security," explained Vin. "And we have on our video tapes several of your folks stealing aluminum foil from the kitchen."

Larry laughed as he replied, "Well, I guess I can't deny it, can I? Especially since the room's covered in it." He held his arms open wide as he gestured to the room they were standing in.

"Yes sir," said Vin.

"How about if I tell you we won't steal anymore and we'll pay you for what we took, would that be ok?" asked Larry.

"That'll work but I'll have to also ask that you remove all the foil from the room here . . ."

"We can't do that," said Larry anxiously. "The foil keeps the green men from tracking us . . ."

"Sir, you don't need to worry about 'green men' here at the Montecito . . . I have it on good authority that the aliens prefer the Luxor . . ." explained Vin as he tried to hold back the laughter.

"But my fellow abductees won't believe it . . . they won't come to the convention if the foil isn't up," explained Larry. "Can we keep it up until the convention is over and then I promise we'll take it down?"

"Ok that should be ok," relented Vin. "But I need you to remove the foil from the security camera . . . it's there for your protection and I promise you the transmission only goes to the security room . . . no where else. . ."

"Ok, deal," said Larry as he shook Vin's hand. "We'll take it down now . . . I promise. . ."

"Thanks," replied the security officer.

As Vin emerged from the convention room he ran into JD and Jock Steele.

"Ahh Mr. Tanner, so glad I ran into you. . ." said the TV producer.

"Mr. Steele, how's the filming going?"

"Good . . . really good . . . got some great shots," said Steele as he gaze wandered to the two women walking by wearing aluminum foil hats.

"What's up with the foil hats?" asked Jock in a low voice.

"UFO abductees' convention," explained JD.

"Why do they wear 'em?" continued the TV producer who was intrigued.

"To keep the aliens from trackin' 'em," replied Vin.

"Interesting," said Jock as he tapped a finger to his lips. "Maybe I should have a little chat with them . . . this could make an interesting TV series . . . I'm thinking a quirky comedy. . . maybe on one of the cable channels. . ."

"Mr. Steele, I thought you were going to do an establishing shot of this area," reminded the camera man.

"Oh, that's right . . . that's right!" said Steele as he returned back to his current job. "Now, what if I get you two in the shot?" he asked as he looked at the two security officers.

"That would be so cool," replied an eager JD while Vin replied, "I don't know . . . I really should be getting back to the main office. . ."

"Come on Vin . . ." encouraged JD. "It won't take long . . . "

Seeing his good friend was very excited about the prospect of being taped for Steele's TV show, Vin relented and agreed.

"Alright fellas . . . this will be easy . . . I just need you two to walk up this corridor and pretend you're talking . . . that's it . . ."

"What do we say?" asked Vin who was already regretting he agreed to do this.

"Oh . . . anything you want," replied Jock. "We won't be taping your voices. When this airs it will be part of a casino montage with a soundtrack running in the background."

The two men nodded and then got into place and waited.


The two men walked up the corridor as instructed while the camera recorded their every move.

When they were finished, Steele said "Cut! Great job, guys! Now let's do this one more time. . ."

"Sorry . . . I need to head back to security," said Vin who didn't wait for a response as he walked away.

"Shy fella, isn't he?" commented Steele.

"Yeah . . . you could say that," replied JD as he watched Vin's retreating back.

"Vin . . . JD . . . we have several individuals up on the roof . . ." said Chris through the communication devices in their ears. "Meet me at the roof entrance."

"Roger that," replied Vin as he paused in his walking and looked back at JD who was running his way. "Be there in five."

As the two men stepped off the elevators at the top floor, they spotted Chris waiting by the 'employee's only' door that led to the roof.

As they approached the Security Chief, Vin asked, "Having fun yet?"

"Tons," replied Chris.

"What's going on?" asked JD.

"From what we can tell it looks like three individuals on the roof with some type of device," explained Chris.

"Device?" repeated JD. "A bomb?"

"Hard to tell but I've got LVPD on standby," said Chris as he swiped his card across the electronic reader. The door clicked open and the three men entered and headed up the two flights of steps that led to the roof.

Chris quietly opened the door leading to the rooftop and walked outside, followed closely by Vin and JD. They didn't have to go far to find the trespassers.

The three individuals were standing in the open area frantically waving their arms while yelling "We're here . . . we're here . . . come get us. . ."

"Excuse me," said Chris in a loud voice. "No guests are allowed on the roof. You need to leave NOW."

The three trespassers froze as they realized they were caught. "But we can't . . . at least not yet . . ." said the tall redheaded woman. "We're waiting for them. . ."

"Them?" asked Chris as the three men slowly approached. "Who's them and what is that device you've got with you?" He was quickly losing patience and in need of answers right now.

"The aliens," nervously explained the man with a bushy moustache. "We're trying to reach them with our notification system."

JD tried not to laugh. The alien "notification system" looked like a mixture of parts from various electronic devices ranging from a satellite dish to a hair dryer.

"I thought you all were trying to avoid the aliens," remarked Vin who was remembering the conference room downstairs covered in aluminum foil.

"Well, some . . . like the ones downstairs . . . are," explained the man wearing a t-shirt that said 'I'm here. Please take me to your home planet.' "But there are some of us that are hoping . . . waiting for . . . another encounter with the aliens." The other two nodded as he continued, "And we would like to represent Earth and try to start a dialogue with the aliens. . ."

"Well, it ain't happening here at the Montecito," said Chris. "So pack up your gizmo and get off this roof now or I will have LVPD arrest you for trespassing."


Buck Wilmington had a bounce in his step at the anticipation of judging a wet t-shirt contest. If luck was on his side he just might get a few phone numbers of some of the lovely female contestants. Taking a moment to squirt some breath spray into his mouth, 'cause it's always good to be prepared', he continued his path to the pool area.

When he reached the judging stand he noticed two women were already seated behind the table.

"Well, hello, ladies, I'm here to do my civic duty and judge the contest," announced Buck.

"Are you taking Evie Travis' place?" asked the one woman.

"Evie's?" repeated Buck who had thought he was taking Orin's place. "Oh . . . I guess I am . . ."

"Well, take a seat, honey. . ." instructed the brunette woman as she lightly tapped the chair next to her. "The contest will be starting shortly."

"Ok, ladies and gentlemen we have all of our judges in place and all the contestants are anxiously ready to show you what they have so let's start the first annual BOB wet t-shirt contest. . ."

"Bob?" repeated Buck under his breath. What the hell was that? He didn't have to wait long to see what the announcer meant. The first contestant . . . a very large MAN walked up onto the walkway and the crowd cheered.

"Shake it stud!" yelled someone from the audience as Bob in a wet t-shirt posed to display his beer gut. The words on his t-shirt read: "This is a protective covering for my rock hard abs."

"Ahhh hell no . . ." muttered Buck who wanted to look away but couldn't . . . it was like when you pass a car accident and you just have to look.

So for the next hour contestant after contestant named Bob paraded down the makeshift runway happily showing off their wet t-shirt covered beer guts and man boobs. And all the while Buck thought of various ways he could get even with former friend, Chris Larabee.


"Sir, we have an issue at one of the craps tables," said Cheryl Tingle in a hushed tone. She was the second in command over all the gaming pits and Ezra found she was quite efficient and dedicated in her duties.

"And what might that be?" asked Ezra who had been monitoring the private poker games.

"We have a gambler who . . . well . . . smells . . ." explained Cheryl. "We have received several complaints from patrons as well as some of the employees."

"How long has he been gambling?" asked Ezra.

"Fifteen hours . . . straight . . . and he hasn't left the table," replied Cheryl.

Ezra raised an eyebrow. "Alright . . . I will investigate. . ." The two left the private poker room and headed to the main casino, pausing for a moment Cheryl pointed out the individual in question. . . a big guy over 300 pounds and probably a good 6'3" tall.

Ezra nodded as he moved forward. It didn't take long for him to smell what the problem was. The horrible putrid stench came over him in a wave and made him stop dead in his tracks as his eyes began to water. The man smelled liked a mixture of sweat, urine, and God only knows what else.

Retreating to a safe distance he called for reinforcements. He knew he wouldn't be able to handle this guy by himself.


"What's up, Ezra?" asked Chris as he, Vin, and JD showed up to help the Pit Boss. "Got a problem with a smelly guest?"

"That would be an understatement," replied Ezra. "Pepé Le Pew is over there at the craps table . . ."

The three men looked in the direction of the smelly guest, noticing there was no one else at the craps table with him but the poor dealer who looked like she was going to pass out at any moment.

"No wonder you called for backup," commented JD. "The guy's huge!"

"Hope you can hold your breathes. . ." warned Ezra as the four men headed over to deal with the smelly gambler.

Stopping just behind the man, Ezra announced, "I'm sorry but we are temporarily closing this table . . ."

The craps dealer cast a relieved look to the Pit Boss before scurrying away for fresh air which had Ezra thinking that maybe they needed to start giving employees danger pay for circumstances like this.

Placing a hand lightly on the man's arm, Ezra continued in a low voice, "Sir, we will have to ask you to leave . . ."

"Leave? Why? My money is as good as everyone else," countered the gambler.

"I'm sure it is but unfortunately we have received several complaints regarding your odorous stench," explained Ezra.

"My what?"

"You smell," replied Chris succinctly deciding there was no way to beat around this bush. "And you need to leave . . . now. . ."

"And if I don't?"

"Well, things will get ugly. . ." countered Chris as he glared at the man.

"And he does hate ugly," chimed JD.

The gambler looked at each of the four Montecito employees, sizing up the situation and then down at the few chips he had left on the table. What the hell, he thought, deciding he could take the men.

The first punch landed right across Ezra's jaw causing the Pit Boss to fall backwards. Seeing their fallen colleague, the other three men moved quickly to apprehend the smelling gambler, grabbing him by the arms and wrestling him to the ground.

It was at this time the men realized why the gambler smelled so bad.

"You're wearing a diaper?" commented a surprised JD out loud.

"Well, yeah . . . I don't want to leave the table during a winning streak," explained the man.

"Well, come on, buddy, it's time for you to go home, take a shower, and change your diaper," declared Chris as he hauled the guy up onto his feet with Vin moving to hold his other arm. It was like the parting of the red sea as the men escorted ' Pepé Le Pew' out of the Montecito.


"There you are . . . I've been looking for you . . ." said Buck as the four men returned from their chaperon duties with Josiah following.

"What's wrong, Buck?" said Chris who was really hoping it wasn't another problem.

"I want to have a word with you about that wet t-shirt contest," said Buck.

"Oh . . . how'd it go?" asked Chris.

"Not good . . . not good at all," replied Buck quickly. "Do you realize the contestants in this wet t-shirt contest were Bobs . . . all MEN!"

JD and Vin snickered softly at Buck's announcement and he turned to the two men and said, "It wasn't funny . . . in fact I think I will have nightmares for years to come . . ." The Hospitality Host shuddered as he thought back at the horrible sights he was forced to watch.

"Really? I didn't know," said Chris while trying to sound sympathetic. "Shirley just said it was a wet t-shirt contest . . . she didn't give me any other details on who was sponsoring it and all. . ."

"Well, what do we have here?" commented Josiah as he changed the subject. Approaching them was the on-call physician.

"What'd you wearin', Nate?" questioned Chris.

The doctor smiled as he looked down at his new shirt that read: 'Hi! I'm Bob!'

"You like? Bob Tilton gave it to me," explained the doctor.

"You mean that bubble bath guy who got his toe stuck in the faucet?" countered Buck.

"Yep, that's the one. I'm now an honorary Bob," declared Nathan.

"Just tell me you're not going to participate in the next wet t-shirt contest," chimed Buck.

"Wet t-shirt contest?" repeated Nathan as his brow furrowed in confusion.

"Don't ask, it's not pretty," replied Vin softly.

"What is that smell?" asked Nathan as he sniffed the air.

"Don't ask," said Ezra, Chris, Vin, and JD at the same time.

"It's not pretty," chimed a smiling Josiah who had watched the men escort the stinky gambler out.

"I need a shower. . ." declared Vin.

"Me too" chimed both Chris and JD.

"Bubble bath . . . definitely a bubble bath," countered Ezra while lightly touching his bruised jaw.

"Just don't get your toe stuck in the faucet 'cause I'm not coming to help you out," declared Nathan as the other men started to laugh.

"Mr. Larabee!! I need to have a moment of your time," interrupted TV producer Jock Steele as he hurried over to talk to the Security Chief. He stopped several feet away when the putrid smell hit him. "Umm. . . never mind . . . maybe another time," he said as he placed a hand over his nose and then quickly turned around.

"Well, at least smelling this way has some benefits," said Chris out loud. He was definitely happy he wouldn't have to deal with the squirrelly TV producer.

"You know, Chris, I always knew you were a 'glass half full' type of guy," commented a grinning Josiah.



The Las Vegas Chronicles