“Some shows, I walk out on stage and can tell it’s gonna be an awesome night. Other times, I leave it to fate to figure out.” ~Johnny Outlaw
I should eat because I’m starving, but I want to get back to the room and check on Tracy. The day has disappeared; Time slipped away when I was with Dalton.
When I walk in, she’s there, putting on her makeup. She stops and our eyes meet in the mirror, then a smile appears and she says, “So you chose the second chance, I see.”
Sitting down on the bed, I flop backwards with my arms wide open. “It might have been a third chance technically. It’s hard to keep track.” I giggle. “But I did and I’m so glad. Feeling this good should be criminal. Criminal. Ahhh. Dalton.”
“Dalton with a D. Mystery solved.” She turns around, leaning back on the dresser. “Do I need to be concerned you’re this deeply involved with a criminal?”
I laugh. “He’s not a criminal,” I say, sitting up. “Although I think he might have stolen my heart.” I flop back down in hysterics.
“Oh my God, what has he done to you?” She rushes over and pulls me up to shake me. “Holli? Are you in there, Holli?”
“Stop it.” I swat at her. “I’m just feeling giddy. It’s silly I know, but I haven’t felt like this in so long that I’d forgotten I could.”
Smiling, she says, “You deserve giddy. Now when do I get the details about Mr. D and this second technically third chance romance?”
I stand and walk to the window. Like Dalton, we also have a view of The Strip. “Tonight,” I reply. The sun is lower in the sky and I check the time. 4:36 p.m. Seven hours with Dalton felt like thirty minutes. Turning to get my phone, I check my texts. Two from Tracy and one from Cara: Dinner at seven, meet at Maestro.
“Remember Cara from the marketing meetings?”
“Cara who didn’t get our account, Cara?”
“The very one. She invited me to dinner. Want to go?”
“Guess she’s not mad she lost the account.”
“Nah, she was nice last night.”
“I’ll go,” Tracy says, “I’m almost finished with my makeup, so I just need to get dressed.”
“We’ve got time. I’m gonna shower.” The tension in my shoulders eases under the heat of the pounding water and I close my eyes and move my head under the spray. “Stairway to Heaven” intermingles with memories of Dalton’s hands on me—caressing me, taking me, making me his. I glide the soap over my body noticing there are no physical marks to match the ones he’s left on me emotionally.
It’s all too much, so I rush through the rest of my shower and go about getting ready for a night out with friends while trying to block those green eyes, the light and the dark, the two sides of Dalton that he lets me see. One side is so open and friendly, bright as the desert sun. The other, burdened as a darkness overshadows him. Dalton has secrets. Secrets I’m intrigued enough to want to explore and discover, but I need to forget all that. I’ve got his name and his room number, and not much else.
Tracy grabs her clutch and walks to the door. With the knob in hand, she says, “I’ll meet you downstairs at the bar near the elevators. I need to make a call.”
I’m worried about her. Something happened after the engagement or she wouldn’t be here in Vegas with me. “Sure,” I reply, giving her the space she needs.
Because I’m in Vegas—anything goes, so I pull on my skintight couture black dress, the one that shows a lot of leg. I’m not normally conservative, but this is really pushing the boundaries for me. I wonder if Dalton would like it on me.
We walk into the restaurant right on the hour and I see Cara sitting at a large round table in the corner. She waves us over.
After she introduces us to everyone, we take the remaining two chairs and are sandwiched between two men in suits. The one next to me is named Jack—I do a double take when we’re introduced because of the name alone. My reaction piques Cara’s curiosity, but she doesn’t say anything about it. This Jack is mid-thirties, shaves his head completely, and is wearing an expensive suit and watch. The man next to Tracy is European and must be well into his fifties with a dark spray tan and blinding white teeth. She elbows me when we sit. I chuckle under my breath.
Conversation around the table picks up as we start looking over the menu. “I saw you at the banquet last night. Congratulations on the recognition,” Jack says.
“Thank you. It came as a surprise. I probably looked dumbfounded. I’m not good in the limelight.”
“Limelight. That’s clever.”
“Well, I didn’t mean my company, more the spotlight.”
He nods and smiles. “It was funny though. What are you drinking tonight? I was thinking about a bottle of Cabernet. Will you join me?”
Shaking my head, I say, “I’m not a big red wine drinker. It gives me headaches.”
“Maybe you haven’t tried the right one,” he says and I get the distinct feeling we’re not talking wine anymore. When I don’t say anything, he does. “I highly recommend this bottle.” He points to the wine menu.
Not wanting to be rude, I say, “Sure. I’ll try a glass.” One glass then I was done. Like the man sitting next to me, the wine is overrated. Fortunately, the pasta isn’t. It’s delicious.
Cara taps her glass twice to get our attention. She stands, and I can’t help but feel the formality is a bit over the top for a dinner that is supposed to be a group of friends. “I wanted to thank you for coming tonight. I’m so thrilled to have shared a night with great company and food.” We raise our glasses in a toast. “And because we’re friends, the dinner is on me. I can write it off,” she adds, proud of herself.
This dinner is not a group of friends. It’s a business dinner full of men and I’m getting the sneaking suspicion she wanted us here as her wing-girls to help her out. Naturally, she’s sitting between two hotties and the rest… yeah, not gonna happen.
Jack’s nice, but not my type. My type might share the same name as him, but they couldn’t be more different. My mind wanders back to Dalton and I check my phone. Sneaking it out of my purse, not wanting to be blatantly rude, I start to get anxious to meet up with him again. But I’m bummed there are no texts or missed calls. It’s still early though and he said he’d be late, so hope remains.
Jack leans toward me, and asks, “Do you have plans for the rest of the night?”
Cara stands up again and with her phone and a message displayed on the screen, she announces, “I have great news. I just got us into the concert tonight. My company is a sponsor and I pulled a few strings to get us tickets.”
“What concert?” Tracy asks.
“The Resistance,” Cara replies, sitting down.
I look at Tracy, and say, “I think our night just took a turn for the better.” Then I turn to Jack. “Guess we’re going to a concert.”
“Oh my God, Holli. I’m freaking out inside. They’re one of my all-time favorite bands. That giddy you were feeling earlier, it’s contagious. I’ve caught it now. I seriously cannot believe we’re gonna see The Resistance in a private performance.” She squeezes my hand because she’s so excited and I must say that I’m pretty damn excited myself. I have a couple of their CD’s and from what I remember from some magazine, they’re hot.
Tracy stands and says, “Dinner was wonderful. Thank you for inviting us. We’re going to freshen up and we’ll see you at the concert.” She looks at me and says, “Come on.”
I stand, giving my thanks. Jack stands, setting his napkin on the table in front of him. “I’ll see you there.”
Tracy grabs my hand, and says, “Move it, lady. I’ve got to pee and I don’t want to miss any of the show.”
“And here I thought that quick getaway was for my benefit.”
“It was… you and my bladder equally.”
“Gross,” I say, amused.
Heading into the bathroom, Tracy goes into a stall and I straighten my dress in the full length mirror. Opening my purse for lipstick, I see my phone and check for messages one more time even though I know I shouldn’t. I don’t want to be this hung up on a guy that may or may not even contact me again. I barely know him anyway? Well, I know him, his body and a few… Instead of analyzing everything I remember so vividly about Dalton, I bypass the phone and get my lipstick out and reapply.
“You okay?” Tracy asks, “That guy really got to you, huh?”
With a sigh, I say, “I get sick of guys feeling like they have rights they clearly don’t. I think Jack is used to getting what he wants by flashing his money around. I’m not impressed.”
“Because you’re a success all on your own. Feel good. Feel proud about that.”
“Thanks. I appreciate that.”
When we stand, Tracy does a little hip wiggle, and says, “First round is on me at the show. We need to live it up tonight. Tomorrow we go back to being responsible. Tonight we party like rock stars.”
“Just like rock stars,” I say, feeling the excitement of what’s ahead overtaking all the rest.