Sammy Keyes and the Showdown in Sin City by Wendelin Van Draanen

bigger chapels and—more important—they haven’t applied for a license in the state of Nevada.”
    “They—how do you know
that
?”
    “I told you I was on it,” he says with a laugh. But then he adds, “That doesn’t mean they can’t be walkin’ up to the counter right now, though.”
    “Is it open already?” I look around for a clock but don’t see one anywhere. “What time is it?”
    “Bedtime for me, ten-thirty for you.”
    “Ten-thirty?”
    “Guess you had the dark shades drawn?”
    “Yeah.”
    He laughs. “Welcome to Las Vegas, little mama.”
    It sounds like he’s about to hang up, so I blurt out, “Wait! Where’s this counter?”
    “The marriage counter? At the Marriage Bureau. It’s downtown.”
    “You think I should stake it out?”
    He hesitates. “I knew you were smart. Yes. If they’re coming to Vegas to get hitched, they have to get a license first. That’d be
the
place to stake out.”
    “Thank you!” I tell him. And then, because he always said it to me when I bought stuff from him at Maynard’s Market, I do my best Elvis impersonation and add, “Thank you very much.”
    He laughs and hangs up, and since I’m feeling pretty psyched, I’m laughing, too, when I click off.
    And then I see Heather.
    She’s standing there with her angry arms crossed andher signature sneer. “So? What did he tell you? Huh, loser?”
    I study her a minute. “Can you mix it up a little with the insults? You know, throw in an ‘idiot’ or a ‘dimwit’ or a ‘lame-brained bozo’? The ‘loser’ thing is really getting old.”
    She snatches the phone from me. “You can’t tell me what to call you, loser!”
    I scratch my head. “Just a suggestion, sis.”
    “Shut up!” she screeches.
    Candi comes over and snatches the phone from Heather and says, “You’re making this way harder than it needs to be.” Now, at first I think she’s talking to both of us, but she keeps her eyes on Heather. “Just drop the name-calling altogether. We have work to do!” Then she turns to me and says, “Please tell us what you found out.”
    A “please”?
    Wow.
    I sit up taller on the couch and tell her, “They’re not registered at any of the bigger chapels—”
    “But what if they’re going to a small one? And they could walk up at any time!”
    “Right.
But
they haven’t applied for a marriage license yet. Not in the state of Nevada, anyway.”
    “But … they can do that at any time, too! There’s no waiting period or blood tests or any of that in Nevada. That’s why people come here!”
    “Right, but they haven’t done it
yet
, which means that if we stake out the Marriage Bureau, we can confront them before they even get their license!”
    Now, I’m actually really excited about this breakthrough, and for a second there I’ve lost track of the fact that I’m talking to my archenemy’s nasty-tempered mother. So I’m, like, bouncing a little and, you know, wide-eyed and happy.
    Like I’d be if I were talking to a friend.
    But then it registers that her face is all pinchy and her eyes are like little laser beams, staring at me, so I stop bouncing and start thinking about diving for cover. And then out of her pinchy, laser-beamy face comes a loud, hard hiss.
    A hiss that it takes me a minute to realize is her saying, “Yes!”
    Now, even though I
think
this means that she’s excited, too, it’s creepy enough that I’m not actually sure. So I say, “Good, huh?”
    “Exxxcellent!” she says, hissing again.
    Which, let me tell you, is more than a little scary.
    “You’re doing it again, Mom,” Heather says under her breath.
    Candi snaps out of it. “I am?”
    “Yeah,” Heather tells her. “It’s really creepy.”
    Candi turns to me. “Was I … hissing?”
    I look at her, then sort of glance at Heather, thinking it might be really wise of me to just not say. But Heather gives a little smirk with a one-shoulder shrug, which is pretty much universal for, Go