Chapter Eight
Fenton
I felt the honey softness go out of her limbs as Kya pushed against my chest. I turned on my side and trailed a hand down her dress. My God, that purple dress with a low neckline that almost didn't stop.
"Not like this," she protested.
I wanted her so badly it didn't feel wrong to beg. "Kya, please."
She shook her head, and I was surprised her springy, copper-blonde curls were as soft as silk. They defied gravity without being wiry or sprayed stiff. It was almost cruel how desirable she was.
She sat up, those silken curls brushing against her bare shoulders. The sleeveless dress plunged lower in the back than in the front and I traced a finger along its thin border. A shiver of pleasure ran down her spine. I would do more than beg to have her.
She had hypnotized me the entire evening. Where I normally clocked every attractive woman in the room, I could not even remember what the interior of the restaurant looked like. Kya had me from the second I saw her worried smile. Then, she locked me in with the hint of jealousy when she asked about Talia.
Deep down, I knew I would probably never get Kya out of my system, but there was only one way to find out. I propped myself up on one arm and nuzzled her neck. She shook her head and moved to stand up. I snaked one arm around her waist and kept her in place easily.
"Fenton, please, let go of me," she said.
The hint of panic in her voice sluiced over me like a bucket of ice water. It was true – I could force her. I was strong enough that Kya was defenseless – except for that one tiny hitch in her voice. It undid me. I let her go as if she had stung me.
"Thank you," she said. Instead of standing up and getting out of my reach, she stayed on the edge of the bed and turned towards me. "If I did not know you better, I would think you were trying to seduce me."
"And, what would be so terrible about that?" I asked.
"Seduction always means one party is less willing than the other. I want to be on even footing with you."
She reached for my hand on the bedspread, but I pulled it away. "Well, let me know when you catch up."
I stood up and tucked my shirt back into my pants. She sprang up from the end of the bed and marched over to the mirror to straighten her clothes. Her lips were pursed and her cheeks were bright, so I reached for the door.
"That's it, huh? That's all I get?" she asked.
"You stopped me, remember?"
"I suppose you're right, I don't deserve anything more. Just one sloppy seduction attempt, and when it doesn't work, I get dropped for an easier target," she said.
I stopped with my fingers flexed tight around the door handle. "What do you want, Kya?"
"Right, of course, it's totally unreasonable of me to want to be more than a challenge to you," she said. "If I want to mean more to someone than a locker room story, then no one's interested."
"It's not like that," I told her. My fingers slipped off the door handle. There was a bright emerald glint to her eyes I had never seen before, and it hurt me.
Kya refused to cry. "I know there are bets made behind my back. I know why men like you are nice to me."
"Men like me?"
"Athletes, stars, clients. Men who find it fun to flirt with me, try to take on the challenged in hopes of rubbing it in their buddies' faces." Kya lunged past me and whipped open the door.
"Who does that to you? Other clients?" I asked. My fingers curled into a fist.
"Please, as if you weren't just doing the exact same thing." She shoved me out the door and slammed it in my face.
She was stronger than she looked. And, there was no way she was going to open the door again. I leaned my forehead against it. There were a million little things I could say, but she would not believe any of them. I had tried to seduce her and I had failed. Everything Kya said about men like me was correct.
I shut my eyes and my childhood daydream flashed into my mind. I was playing in my big backyard with my children while my wife watched from the patio. It was dusk and the lights of our house illuminated the yard. We could play until the stars came out and there was nothing to worry about.
Now, the only thing I worried about was how when my imaginary wife looked at me, it was Kya's green eyes that I saw.
I smacked the thought away, hitting the door harder than I intended. It did not matter. I could not have Kya. I could not have anyone yet. If I could not provide for my family 100 times over and never have to worry, then I could not have one at all. Kya would understand, but I would never tell her. Instead, I would lose her and keep on going alone.
I punched the elevator button and paced until the doors opened on the main casino. I stepped out only to narrowly miss an amateur kick to my chin.
"Did you get it? That's going to be an awesome picture," the young man said. His friends all agreed then backed up.
I bristled and stepped up behind him. "You almost kicked me in the face for a candid shot?"
"Yeah, man, it’s no big thing. I'm a fan," he said.
"No big thing? Here, how about I almost kick you in the face and then we'll see how you feel," I said.
The young man scowled. "What a buzzkill. Can't you just be cool?"
"Cool? I'm not the one assaulting people just for a funny picture." I stepped close enough to smell the alcohol on his breath.
"Back off, man."
"Or what?"
The kid had no choice but to try and shove me. I thought of how Kya was half his weight, but twice as effective. It was like kerosene on the spark. I bumped my chest against his hands and he bounced back. While the young man was off balance, I stepped forward and swept a leg under to trip him. He fell, a limp swing at my face missing by six inches. I answered with a punch that slammed the carpet next to his head hard enough the repercussion made his skull bounce.
The young man started yelling and flailing his arms more like an overgrown toddler than a man defending himself. I twisted his arms together and pressed them to his chest. With an openhanded knock across the top of his head, I punctuated my point.
"Don't mess with things you can't handle."
A second later, three large men from casino security lifted me off the so-called fan and hauled me outside. I was not allowed back inside.
"Not even if I win the title fight?" I asked.
"Come back then and we'll talk," the largest security officer said. "But if that little display back there was any indication, I'd say you have a ways to go."
I let fly a swarm of obscenities until I could think of something else to do. It would be too easy to go find Talia and even the thought of the wrong woman made me more frustrated. What the hell had Kya Allen done to me?
I dug in my pockets for my phone, but I had left it in my suite before meeting Kya. I did not want Kev interrupting or Aldous scolding me for being out past his arbitrary curfew. All I found was the address Matt Smith had given me.
The private investigator had assured me my sister was in Las Vegas. It could have been a scam; I had been scammed by people helping me locate her before. Only Matt Smith was fully vetted and the man took his job seriously. If he said he had seen her in Vegas, then he had.
"Call a cab for this address?" I asked the uniformed man at the cabstand.
"Sorry, Mr. Morris, I saw you get kicked out. I'm not supposed to help people who get kicked out," he said.
"I'm not asking you to sneak me back in. I'm asking for a cab out past Fremont Street. Come on, don't you think your bosses want me as far from the Tropicana as possible right now? Well, you can make that happen," I said.
He looked doubtful, but flagged down the next cab in line. He gave the cabbie the directions then knocked on the car roof to send us on our way. It took longer than I thought to traverse the tight Vegas traffic. It gave me too much time to think about Kya. Though as the neon signs changed to strip clubs and peep shows, my mind started to shut down completely.
I cringed away from the thought of my sister working there.
The cab driver let me out at the door, but I could not bring myself to go in. I paced up and down the street. Every time I came within 20 feet of the door, some guy handed me promotional cards for the girls inside. When I looked down and saw Dana Maria's face, a red haze filled in the rest of my sight.
"You realize these are people's sisters, mothers, right?" I asked the guy.
"So what? They're getting paid. And, most of them like it," he said.
"Like getting eye-groped from mouth-breathers like you? I don't think so," I objected. I stepped into the guy's face.
He did not want to back down. It was late, but there was still a crowd of people on the street and they slowed down at the hint of a fight. I imagined Kev already on the phone with the Tropicana and decided to step around the guy and go inside.
It took a while for my eyes to adjust to the dim entryway after the blinding lights of Fremont Street. I blinked as a woman came up to me. She stopped with one fist on her hip.
"Honey, you are in the wrong place," she said.
"Dana Maria?" I asked.
"Fenton, you need to go someplace else," my sister said.
It was her. Her black hair fell in thick waves just like mother's, except for streaks of silver glitter. Her bright blue eyes were faded, but still stunning in a face full of dark, edgy makeup. I kept my gaze on her eyes, even though their weary dimness made me sad.
"Then, come with me," I said. "Any place else. You don't have to stay here. I've got a suite at the MGM Grand. A room all to yourself."
"Since when do I need a room all to myself?" my sister asked. She smiled vaguely at the memory of our shared childhood room.
"Come on, Dana. Let's go," I said.
"Fenton, I don't want your help. I don't need you to save me. Just let it go. Mom's gone. It's all gone. No more family for us. Don't worry about me," she said.
I hated the slope of her shoulders. Dana Maria had been beaten down by life. Worse than that – she accepted it. She accepted it just like Mother had finally accepted she could not afford to get better. She faded away, her shoulders getting narrow and small.
"Don't be silly. Let me help you," I said.
"I've always taken care of myself, haven't I? Wish I was better at taking care of you, too, but you've done alright," Dana said. "Just watch out. Bet you'll see the old man one of these days. Looking for a loan and playing the family card. Don't believe him. I didn't."
"You saw him?" I asked. "Did he ask you about Mother?"
"No, just about you and your career."