“I have a very good life. There are no maybes anymore. The only answer I’m given is yes.” ~Johnny Outlaw
The ride down the elevator gives me enough time to get pissed. Jack Dalton is the exact reason I’m single. It’s not because I’m unwanted, but because nobody I’ve met deserves me. Yeah, fuck that. I’m a successful woman. I can take care of myself. So what if that entails using battery-operated assistance sometimes. At least that gets the job done quickly and efficiently without any messed up emotions to go along with it. Carnal. That’s what a vibrator is—carnal pleasure, nothing more than getting off to feel human again. I can’t believe he convinced me I was the one who wanted the sex in the first place. The sex. He’s already rubbing off on me.
When the elevator doors open, two guys—early twenties—are standing there. They’re cute, but too young for me. The way they’re eyeing me reminds me I’m dressed in a robe and high heels. Probably looks like I’m naked underneath.
I grab the collar and tighten it closed at my neck while checking to make sure the knot in the belt is still solid. Backing into the corner, I give them a wide berth to step inside.
As soon as the doors open, I rush out, bobbing and weaving through the slot machines and poker machines, trying to avoid the main walkway since I have no panties on. I feel exposed even with this huge terrycloth robe wrapped around me. Seeing my bank of elevators ahead is like seeing the light. I might have even heard angels singing.
Angels.
Angel. Fuck.
That name, the word itself will haunt me for days if not weeks to come—the way he deemed me his savior, his hope that I could save him. He didn’t see me clearly and our time is already up.
Hopping inside another elevator, I hit the button for my floor. The doors start to close and my heart skips a beat wishing Dalton would surprise me, and block the doors from shutting like he did before.
The doors close, and disappointment invades my chest.
The Rolling Stones’ “Paint It Black” is playing in the elevator, a song befitting my mood. When the elevator doors open on my floor, Tracy is standing there. “Hi,” I say, shocked to see her.
“Well, hi there, stranger,” she responds, her suitcase next to her. “I thought I was gonna have to go back to the bellhop station and check my bag.”
When I step out, I hug her tight. “I’m so glad to see you. But why are you here? I thought you were celebrating your engagement?”
While hugging me, she says, “I know how much you hate these events and wanted to save you.” She releases me and her brows knit together. “I called you several times and looked for you at the party… Why are you in a bathrobe in public?”
I don’t have but seconds to come up with an answer she’ll consider suitable. The girl has never had a one night stand. Hell, she wouldn’t even sleep with her fiancé until they had dated several months. I start walking down the hall to my room. Keeping up with my fast pace, she asks, “Where’ve you been? Don’t tell me you skipped out on the conference.”
“No, no. I went. It was great. They even acknowledged the company.”
I stick my key card into the slot, and push the heavy door open with my hip.
“So you left early to wander the halls in your robe?”
“Um.” Damn, I’ve got nothing. Oh wait, yes I do. “I was at the spa.”
Tracy follows me inside setting her bag down just inside the door. “Okay. It must have been bad or you really needed a break.” She walks over to the bed that still looks fresh and flops backwards, lying down. “You mind if I barge in on your weekend?”
“Of course not. I’d love the company.”
Rolling onto her side, she props up her head in her hand as I unwrap my robe and toss it onto the bed without thinking.
“You went to the spa dressed like that?”
I look down, and reply, “I went straight from the party. I’m gonna take a shower.”
“Sure. I’ll settle in unless you want to go back out and party?”
“No, I’m done for the night, but you can if you want. Don’t let me hold you back.”
I walk into the bathroom just as she says, “No, I’m good. I’m tired from the drive anyway. We have all weekend to party.”
When I come out again, Tracy is in her pajamas tucked in bed with her laptop out.
“It’s late. You’re working?”
“Just catching up from what I missed today while driving.”
I climb under my covers, punch the pillow twice, then lay down, looking at her. “So what’s the real reason you left L.A.? And don’t tell me you did it for my benefit because you missed the event.”
She rolls her head to the side, appearing exasperated as she looks at me. “Stop seeing right through me.”
I smile. “Well, just know I’m here for you when you’re ready to talk about it.”
“Thank you, Holli. I know you are and that means a lot to me.”
“Goodnight.”
“Sweet dreams.”
I wake up too early. I can feel it’s early and going to bed by eleven always guarantees I’ll wake up by five in the morning. I check the bedside clock. 5:05. Damn. I was hoping to sleep in. After changing positions, I try to fall back asleep.
Tossing and turning, worrying about what I did last night and who I did it with owns every thought fluttering through my mind. I get up at six, needing to clear my head. The heavy blackout drapes are closed, and it’s dark in the room except for a dim light in the corner. I immediately head over to the curtains and peek out. The sun is starting to rise, a golden glow lights the distant mountains from behind. With amazing things like that existing in the world, it’s hard to feel sorry for myself. Life is pretty fucking awesome and I refuse to consider what I did with Dalton a mistake. A lesson, yes, but not a mistake. The sex was way too good to make me feel bad, despite the outcome.
“Holli?” a groggy voice calls from behind me.
I look over my shoulder at Tracy. “Sorry. Did I wake you?”
“Kind of. Why are you up so early?”
“Couldn’t sleep.” Dropping the curtain closed again, all the light gets trapped back outside. “I think I’m gonna go workout.”
She yawns, then mumbles, “Sure. I’m going back to sleep.”
After turning on the bathroom light, I dig through my suitcase and find my workout clothes and sneakers. I change quickly and make a fast exit. With my keycard in hand, I head to the hotel gym and spend the next hour rotating between the treadmill, the elliptical, and a stair-stepping machine. The burn in my muscles reminds me of last night, images of being on top flood my mind. Today I’m sore, but I’ve always relished that feeling. It makes me feel alive, wanted, even pretty. I shouldn’t let those kinds of superficial emotions affect my self-esteem, but it feels good to be sexually desired.
Tired and weak from the workout, I search out coffee on the casino floor only to find vacuums humming in between the machines. Vegas is sad at this time of day. So vibrant at night, but so desolate in the morning.
I find the café by the pool and order a latte and an English muffin. Taking a seat at a nearby table, I watch as a few people start to stumble their way to stake claim to a pool lounger with their towel and then disappear again, probably going back to bed.
Standing up, I set my mug down and head back to the room. Even after having coffee, I’m feeling tired again. It’s probably as much an emotional exhaustion as a physical one.
Hoping not to wake Tracy, I’m quiet when opening the door. “Good morning, Hols.” Guess she’s awake.
“Morning.”
“How was the workout?” She sits up, adjusting her too large of frames for her face glasses to the top of her head. The curtains are open, so I can see everything.
“Good. I think I might shower and go back to bed.”
She nods, looking like she’s got more on her mind than me working out this early in the morning.
“Spit it out, Tracy.”
“I was just wondering something,” she starts to say while looking down. “If you were really at a spa last night. It is kind of odd to go straight from a party to get a massage.” She looks straight into my eyes.
Damn, she’s good. Really good.
“Can we talk about this after I shower? I feel gross.” Disappearing into the bathroom without waiting for her response gives me ten extra minutes. I don’t like to lie and I’m not really in the mood to play twenty questions, but I’m also not sure if I want her to know about last night either.
When I return to the main room, I have my pajamas back on and slip under the covers.
She’s persistent—one of the reasons I hired her. “You don’t have to talk about it, reveal any secrets or anything. Just doesn’t seem to add up is all.”
“I’m going back to bed.”
“Alright. Alright. I got the hint, but you know you can trust me, right?”
“I do trust you. Just need a little more time to think things through.” As soon as I close my eyes, I hear her clanging around and look up. The delicious smell of bacon hits my senses and makes my stomach growl. “You ordered breakfast?”
“Nope.” She shakes her head and takes a piece of bacon from the plate sitting atop the room service cart. There are several other plates covered with silver domes, a bottle of champagne, orange juice and berries.
I sit up. “You didn’t order room service?”
“Nope, I didn’t.”
“I can assume that this food did not magically appear. It was delivered while I was in the shower?”
“You would assume right though it felt pretty magical since I didn’t order it.”
“If you didn’t order it, then who did?”
She holds a note in the air and with a mouth full of bacon, waves it around. “Good question. Maybe we should ask your secret admirer since he sent it to you.”
Jumping to my feet, I immediately snatch the card and jump back in bed, huddling under the covers. I flip it open and read: Here’s hoping fresh starts can replace bad endings. One more chance? D.
“Who’s D?” Tracy asks.
I try to distract. “Why’d you leave L.A.?”
Watching her, she sets the lid back down and walks to the window. With her arms crossed over her chest, she says, “Like you, I need a little time to process something.” When she turns and looks back at me, I nod. “Thank you for understanding.” She takes a deep breath and releases it, her whole demeanor changing and a smile appears. “I’m gonna catch some desert rays. Get some rest or join me by the pool… or maybe even give this D another chance.”
I laugh. “That’s the bacon talking.”
Shrugging, she says, “I’m weak to bacon. What can I say?”
“Who isn’t? Toss me a piece please.”
She does, then goes to the bathroom to get ready. From across the room, I stare out the large window, Vegas coming to life outside of it. Five minutes later, she’s out the door and I’m left lying in bed with a handwritten note card pressed to my heart. Flashes of Dalton biting his lower lip as he came comes to mind. And just like in the bar last night, I find him impossible to resist.