Chapter Twenty-Seven
Maddox
It was 7:30 when I dropped Abby off at my parents’, and they both were already enjoying their second cup of espresso on their balcony.
“Are you seeing any of the new shows?” my mom asked, mainly so that she could berate me for not waiting to see them with her.
“I don’t plan on it,” I said. “But sometimes tickets just fall into my hands, and it would be rude not to go.”
“I suppose,” she said. Abby was sitting on my dad’s lap and telling him about a secret painting that I wasn’t allowed to see yet. There was one thing about my little girl; she sure knew how to keep a secret.
“I’ll show you, though,” she said. “I just need Uncle Nick to bring it.”
“Uncle Nick is busy this weekend, honey,” I said. “He has his art gallery showing downtown.”
“We’ll stop by, even though his paintings have never been my favorite,” my mom said as my father agreed. “Maybe he’ll have your painting there.”
Abby lit up at the idea.
“Now, be careful with this girl,” my mother said. I groaned.
The last thing I wanted was a lecture from my mom about being safe with a woman. “I’m not a teenager,” I said. “I’m more than capable of taking care of myself.” Plus, I was tired of hearing the same warnings from both Nick and my mother. They were beginning to sound like a pair of broken records.
“I know,” she said. “And I trust you’ll know what’s right. If you like her, fine, if she likes you back, perfect. If she likes both you and Abby, then marry her, already.”
My pulse raced at the thought. “Mom, we’re not anywhere near that. I haven’t even considered that,” I said. Marriage wasn’t what I’d had in mind, but a relationship was. First things first.
“Maddox, honey, when you’re a single father, the only thing you should consider is finding a suitable parental role. That’s the most important thing in a relationship that has a child.” I was offended she didn’t think I was concerned for Abby when it came to my relationship with Everly, when all I’d done is ask my daughter for her opinion. I’d sought her approval all along.
My father seemed slightly uncomfortable with the topic, and thankfully he sped up the conversation and began to make farewells.
I kneeled in front of Abby and took her in my arms. I’d miss her like crazy.
“I’ll pick you up Sunday night, Monday morning if it’s too late. Okay?” I kissed her cheek. “Promise to be good?” I knew I didn’t have to ask. She was always well-mannered, and I’d never gotten any complaints so far.
She nodded and kissed my cheek. She was a trooper, for sure.
“I’ll be good, Daddy. Tell Everly I said hello. Don’t see any shows without Grandma,” she said, and I laughed.
“Did Grandma make you say that?”
Abby nodded as my mother shook her head behind her. Heaven help me if the two of them ever really did gang up on me over something of importance.
“I love you, sweetie; you can use Grandpa’s phone to call me whenever you want to, okay?” I looked up to my father who nodded and gave Abby a reassuring smile. The reassurance was more helpful to me.
“Okay, Daddy.” She smiled up at me, and I took a good long look at her, taking in as much as I could to make it last the length of my trip.
I hugged her tightly. We’ve been apart for this long only once before since she came into my life, and it hadn’t been easy.
I left after the long goodbye, wiping a stray tear from the corner of my eyes as I settled behind the steering wheel of the Giulia. I blinked away more tears and drove to Everly’s, where she promptly exited the complex with a medium-sized suitcase which was stuffed to maximum capacity within a minute of me texting her.
“This is all you have?” I said as I put the suitcase into the backseat. The car wasn’t built for much storage.
“I don’t really have much stuff,” she said. She averted her eyes and tapped her foot.
“Well, you’ll probably want to buy another suitcase when we’re there, in case you end up buying souvenirs.”
“What souvenirs do people buy in Vegas?” she asked. “Penis mugs and nipple lollipops?”
I laughed. “I don’t think I’ve actually seen any of those.”
“You clearly haven’t seen enough bachelorette parties in movies,” she said.
My eyes widened. “What kind of movies are you watching?”
She giggled, and I opened the door for her. She slid into the seat, and I waited for her legs to clear the door before shutting her inside. I walked around and got into the car to find her smiling.
“Not the kind of movies you’re thinking about, but I hear the hotels there give you those channels for free.” She flashed me a wink and I belted out a laugh as I started the car.
We arrived at the airport after 30 minutes of traffic, and I drove toward the valet.
“I didn’t know airports did valet,” she said.
“Technically, they don’t,” I said. “Only certain people can use it.” The answer surprised her.
“I’ll have to get used to all of your perks.” She stepped out of the car.
An attendant glanced at my license and immediately retrieved our luggage. Everly raised her hand to take it from him, but he placed them on a cart and disappeared with it.
“We’ll see them again; don’t worry,” I said as she frowned. “They’ll be in your room in Vegas.”
“Certain people?” she asked as I led her through the airport. The crowd thickened a bit, and we made our way through until we reached our destination.
I still hadn’t answered as we walked through a special line for security, and found an unlisted gate that was far from the others. Everly seemed to be piecing things together as her eyes narrowed. “What type of certain people?”
“People with private jets,” I said as a flight attendant greeted us warmly. Everly paled as we exited through a pair of double doors straight onto the runway. A bitter wind nipped at our skin, and we both pulled our coats close to our body.
“You have your own private jet.” It wasn’t a question. I glanced at her with a smirk.
“Surprised?” I asked.
A smooth, white jet was waiting for us with a set of stairs leading to the door. Everly rose first, staring with wide eyes at the immaculate inside. Six rows of comfortable leather seats sat across from each other, with plenty of leg room and a dining table in between pairs. A bar sat against the wall on each side of the jet, and four giant screen televisions hung from the ceiling. I had themed the colors black and white, with small pops of pink that Abby had insisted on the moment she found her voice.
“This is yours?” she asked in awe as she took a seat. “There’s no way.”
“It is,” I said. “I don’t get to use it as often as I’d like, though.”
“I need to know, what exactly do you invest in?”
I frowned. I had so many answers planned for this question, but I was tired of lying to her face. Still, I had to be smart about this confession.
“Honestly? I own a chain of restaurants,” I said. She tilted her head as her jaw dropped.
“What?”
“Have you heard of All You Can Eat?” I asked.
She hesitated a moment. “Of course.”
“It’s mine. I own the chain, and I have money invested in other brands that fall under the All You Can Eat name.”
“You’re a restauranteur?” she asked. Her voice was laced with pure disbelief. “Why didn’t you tell me? I’ve been cooking for you this entire time like you had no idea what the difference between duck and goose was.”
“Would it have made such a difference?” I asked. She blinked.
“Well, yeah.”
“That’s why.” I nodded. “I hate the limelight, and all the attention and feedback it draws, so I try to fly under the radar. I wanted you to just be yourself, while still cooking the best you have to offer.”
“So these meetings?” she asked.
“They’re to discuss new opportunities in the business, and I need to unveil a new dish. I don’t like to change the menu often, but it’s been a while since we added anything, and we need the numbers.”
“You need a new dish,” she repeated. “For your restaurants.” She laughed as if she couldn’t believe what she was hearing.
“I’ve been thinking, and I can’t stop thinking about that ginger sea bass we made.” I met her stare directly. Everly raised both eyebrows.
“It’s cheap,” she suggested. “Probably less than a dollar a plate, if you were to buy enough of it. And the cucumber relish is a great flavor combination for fish.”
“It’s a great dish,” I said. “I’m going to pitch it at the meetings and see what everyone else has to say.”
Everly pressed her palm against her cheeks.
“One of my dishes served at All You Can Eat?” She breathed. “I can’t believe it.”
“Don’t get your hopes up,” I said. The plane’s engine roared to life, and we both leaned into our seats as we took off. “I’ll try my best.”
“I’ve seen what you can do, Maddox,” Everly said as the plane settled into the air. “We both know you get what you want.”
I bit my lip and watched as she stared out the window of the plane.
“I do,” I murmured. “I really do.”
Vegas was bright despite it being late morning. Everly’s eyes were as wide as saucers as we took an unmarked car from the airport to the hotel. It was a tall, shiny skyscraper with metallic walls and gold lettering that promised a good weekend to everyone visiting.
“You should see it at night,” I said as she marveled at the giant statues and fluorescent lights. “It’s like a completely different world.”
“I believe it.” She wore a stunning business suit, a tight skirt and even tighter blouse, and her red hair was in a loose bun at the nape of her neck. There was something about seeing her in the middle of such a busy city that made her irresistible. Or maybe it was being forced to stare at her for several hours in a small jet that was making my desire heighten.
We were told our rooms wouldn’t be ready for several hours and were given tickets to the next showing of “The Beatles” as an apology.
“Do you want to see it?” I asked.
“Of course,” she said. “I’ve seen a million commercials for this. Lacey is going to kill me.”
I laughed, and together we found the playhouse. The tickets were front row seats, and we arrived with barely 10 minutes to spare. We each ordered drinks, bourbon for me and a cocktail for Everly, and decided to split an entree during the show.
It started, and halfway through the musical, I felt Everly’s shoulder lean against mine. I stiffened for a moment before relaxing, and we watched the rest of the show with our shoulders touching.
“That was incredible!” she said. “God, I felt like I was on drugs the whole time.”
I chuckled. “I think that’s the point.” I checked my watch. “The room must be ready by now.”
As we walked through the casino, under a ceiling of stars and statues of gods and goddesses, Everly began to pay more attention to the various slot machines around us. The air was bitter with the smell of smoke and alcohol, but the more we drank, the better it smelled.
“Do we have time to maybe play a few slots?” she asked. “I’ve never actually touched a slot machine before.”
“Do you know how, then?” I asked. “It can get pretty complicated.”
We watched as someone else pressed buttons on a touchscreen, and won 50 dollars.
“Doesn’t seem that complicated,” she said and took my hand. “Come on, show me.”
I took a seat in front a slot and expected her to take one beside me. Instead, she sat on my lap and pressed her back against my chest. I sucked in a breath, praying that she couldn’t feel the reaction stiffening in my pants.
“So, what now?” she asked. I slipped my wallet out and inserted a 100 dollar bill.
“Now, we lose all our money,” I said and showed her what to do.
An hour and a half later, she had won 200 dollars and was feeling the exhilaration from it.
“That wasn’t too bad,” she said. Her words slurred from several more cocktails and my head was beginning to spin from too much bourbon. “Oh, you know what else I’ve always wanted to do?” She stumbled against me as if I were a wall to lean on.
“What’s that?” I asked.
“Poker.” She took my hand again and led me toward the poker tables. “I’ll watch you first.”
I chuckled, took a seat, and placed my bet. Everly was as quiet as a statue behind me, but I was well aware of her presence. We enjoyed several more drinks, and after losing the 200 dollars on a single round of poker, found ourselves at the buffet.
“Is it everything you’ve imagined?” I asked as she sat at the table with three plates full of mixed cultures.
“And more,” she said, and dug in. I loved to watch her eat, and I considered how strange it was to find the way she chewed a turn on.
“There’s always a bunch of street shows at night,” I said. “We should check them out before calling it a day.”
“I’d like that.” She smiled and rested her palm against my chest and then dropped her hand into mine.
It was late by the time we managed to check into our rooms.
“Your luggage was delivered to 6165.” The hostess said. I checked our room keys; 6165 was my room.
“I’ll just pick mine up from your room and then get ready to go out in mine,” she said, and we left to search for our rooms. Thankfully, they ended up directly across from one another. I opened the door and welcomed her inside.
She gasped and bolted straight toward the window, where we had a view of the entire Vegas Strip in all its lighted glory beneath our fingertips. The room itself had a living room with two couches and an entertainment center, a kitchen complete with a full bar, a luxury restroom, and a king-sized bed in a separate bedroom with an extra restroom. I sat both of my suitcases on the bed.
“It’s bigger than my apartment,” she said as we both toured it. “More expensive, probably.”
“I wouldn’t know,” I said truthfully. “I don’t see the bill.” She laughed, but it was hard to tell if she thought that was funny or sad.
“Four bottles of wine,” Everly said as she made her way toward the bar. I poured two glasses, and she emptied hers quickly. “The Hangover” makes so much more sense to me now.”
I pulled her suitcase toward the door as she refilled her glass.
“I’m just going to use the restroom first, if that’s okay?” she asked, and I nodded.
“Take your time,” I said. She disappeared into the bedroom and presumably the second restroom. I poured an ounce of bourbon into a glass and enjoyed the view of Vegas. The lights were a bright blend of yellow, purple, blue, and red, and I watched jets of water shoot up from a fountain and create a water show. Down the street from that was a volcano that spat out fire, and even further from that was a pirate ship that was slowly moving from one end of the casino to the other.
“I’m done,” Everly said as she opened the door. I turned and finished my bourbon.
“Do you want to watch any of the street shows?” I asked, but as she exited the bedroom, the words died on my lips.
Everly stood in the doorway almost naked, save for one of my ties strapped around her neck and in between her breasts. One hip was resting against the door, the other playing with her smooth stomach and trailing circles on her skin.
“I think I’d rather stay in tonight,” she said and crossed the room. Her lips pressed hard against mine, and her fingers began to unbutton my shirt.