CHAPTER 3
TILLIE
After insisting I let him make all the arrangements for me because his cousin was a concierge at the hotel and had all the good hook-ups, Mario had taken the reins and seen to every detail of booking my trip, including my transportation arrangements.
Gleefully, I’d allowed it. In fact, I’d given him my credit card number and told him to go all out. I quite enjoyed letting someone else handle the arrangements. It gave me less to fret about and gave me absolutely zero opportunity for backing out.
I’d spent the evening packing for my trip, choosing a mix of casual clothes and a few dressy outfits, just in case. I usually dressed modestly, but I was determined to attempt to blend in with the crowd as much as possible. I wanted to be inconspicuous, just another woman in the crowd, not Reggie Thorne’s ex.
The stretch limo that pulled up at my front door the next morning was going to make that a little more difficult than I’d imagined. When I spotted the hunky limo driver running around to open my door, I couldn’t help but smile. Mario had done well. I made a mental note to send him flowers. I said goodbye to the cats and left the key under the mat for Mario, then faced the driver.
“Good morning, ma’am,” he said, tipping his shiny hat. “My name is Anderson. I’ll be your driver today.”
“All the way to Vegas?”
“No, ma’am,” he said. “Just the short drive to LAX.”
“Of course,” I nodded, feeling silly. Why drive when I could fly?
Sliding into the back seat, I sunk into the plush black leather as Anderson closed the door and loaded my luggage into the trunk, before sliding behind the wheel and whisking me away from my gorgeous, stately prison. The house faded away behind us as we drove away and I felt a little flutter in my belly as I wondered what lie ahead, hoping Mario hadn’t gone too far.
Just a little fun, I reminded myself. A few minutes later the limo drove right onto the tar-mac and sidled up to a small, waiting plane. I looked out the window and smiled again. A regular flight would have been just fine, but apparently Mario thought differently.
I stepped onto the plane, smiling politely as the pilot introduced himself and the other staff. A woman with the whitest teeth I’d ever seen guided me to my seat, offered me a menu and a cocktail, and within minutes, I was soaring through the sky on my luxurious and most certainly, outrageously expensive, private flight.
Looking out the window at the city, drenched in sunlight and crawling with traffic, I couldn’t help but feel a little lost and lonely. All those people down there, busy with their lives, filled with purpose and ambition…
I was nothing like them.
I’d probably never be like them, struggling to make ends meet, enjoying the rollercoaster of emotion that came with all the successes and failures in one’s life. Sure, I had money, but what they had was true wealth. I imagined them working hard, coming home to loving families and open, welcoming arms, living in vibrant communities and benefiting from the inclusive support of their tribes, their villages, their families.
That was true value.
I had none of that.
Because of that absence, all this money and luxury meant nothing really. I’d dreamt of this life as a kid. Left the squalor of the trailer park behind because I wanted to live a life exactly opposite of all of that.
Well, look at me now…
All alone with my money, and I’ve quickly learned money can’t keep me warm or dry my tears. I swirled the ice around in the glass of whiskey I’d asked for, taking a deep breath before drinking it all down and asking the waiting attendant to refill it. I looked down at the city, the landscape quickly changing as we flew over it, and I wondered what made all those people different than me.
Nothing but fate, really.
And fate had brought me here.
Right here, with this fresh glass of whiskey giving me the warmest buzz, this plush plane shuttling me to a new experience, to the beginning of a new future.
Something in my gut told me that all I really needed to do was listen.
I, too, could have a dream. Maybe I didn’t have a clue what that was just yet. But maybe I could find it after I had some time to get to know myself a little again. I was hoping like hell that a change of scenery and hopefully a little clarity, as much as one can find in Sin City, that is, would be just what the doctor ordered.
The plane landed smoothly and before I knew it, another limo was whisking me out of the airport and into the city, quickly turning onto the nearby strip and finally turning in front of a sprawling display of dancing fountains.
The driver swiftly deposited me at the bustling entrance to the Bellagio Hotel. It was as over-the-top as Mario had made it sound on the phone.
I walked through the gold revolving doors and looked up in awe at the immense floral glass sculpture that dominated the ceiling. Making my way over to the registration desk, I drank in my surroundings. Like swarms of ants, the place was crawling with people of all sorts — young and old alike, groups of friends, singles and families, too. As I wove through the crowd, I heard at least three different languages being spoken.
“I have a reservation,” I said to the lady behind the counter, once again saying a silent prayer of gratitude to Mario. I handed the woman my identification and her eyes shot up after typing in my name.
“Ms. Thorne, we’re so very pleased to have you with us,” she began, gesturing for a man standing nearby. He walked over quickly, and almost bowed to me. “This is Charles. Charles will escort you to your penthouse suite and see to it that everything is to your liking.”
“Oh, I don’t need an escort,” I said, thinking I didn’t need the penthouse suite either. Mario had taken my ‘go all out’ instructions very literally.
“Please, ma’am, I insist,” he replied. Charles was very tall, handsome and serious, his distinguished, slicked back hair greying at the temples. His warm smile offset his towering, intimidating frame.
“Okay,” I replied, feeling like a fish out of water. Anytime I traveled with Reggie, he always took care of these sorts of things while I waited. I only had one suitcase today and while it seemed absurd that a man would be required to take me to my room, I nodded. Still, I followed behind him obediently, after receiving the card keys the clerk handed to me.
We rode the elevator in silence to the top floor. When I saw the room Mario reserved for me, I understood the royal treatment I was receiving. I’d have been just as happy with a regular room, with a regular bed, maybe a nice view, but this was nothing at all like that.
It was palatial, and way too big for just me, although the view was something I could easily get used to. Floor to ceiling windows opened up to a large balcony that wrapped around the outside of the suite, providing a sprawling view of the strip. I walked out, soaking in the bright sunshine and looking down at the fountains and street below.
“It’s quite a sight at night when it’s all lit up,” Charles said behind me. “I’ve taken the liberty of putting your luggage in the bedroom, Ms. Thorne. On the buffet in the living room is a complete menu of services and amenities available, as well as an itinerary and tickets for all the shows and services Mr. Morales has reserved for you already. If you don’t see something you’re looking for, please contact the front desk and we will do everything we can to accommodate you fully.”
“Thank you, Charles,” I said, turning back to him and slipping him a tip, like I’d seen Reggie do countless times.
“There’s a full bar, of course. And champagne already open and waiting,” he said, smiling at me. “But if there’s anything else you’d like, I’d be happy to help.”
“Help?”
“Yes, Ms. Thorne. This is Vegas, after all. We’re used to the most unusual requests.”
“Oh, I’m sure you are,” I said, laughing.
“So?” He asked, staring at me expectantly.
“So, what?”
“What do you fancy, Ms. Thorne?”
“Do you mean like extra towels? Or an iron?” I asked. “I think I’m okay. I can call down to the front desk if I think of anything.”
“Yes, of course, ma’am. But if there’s other things…other items or services you don’t see in the brochure, you should give me a call.”
He handed me his card and I stared down at it in confusion.
“Are you hitting on me?” I asked, bewildered.
“No, ma’am, of course not,” he insisted. “I was referring to intoxicants, stimulants.”
I stared at him blankly.
“Drugs, ma’am? Companionship?” He asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Oh!” I said, reality hitting me like a brick against the side of the head. Heat rose to my cheeks. “No! Gosh, no!”
“Just let us know,” he nodded. “I’m only a phone call away.”
“Thank you, Charles,” I replied, thankful when he turned to walk out. Did people do that kind of thing? Just order up drugs and sex like that? Suddenly, I felt completely naive and out of touch. I wasn’t interested in drugs and while a good roll in the hay with a handsome man didn’t sound bad at all, ordering one like a steak wasn’t for me. Not yet, anyway.
According to Mario, I just needed to hit the reset button on my entire life.
And I am in Vegas, so who am I to judge? Maybe ordering up a nice rare hunk of man meat was just what some women needed and expected from a trip to Vegas.
Me? I had no idea what to expect, but I knew I might need something at least halfway authentic when it came to the personal relations department. I wandered through the rooms of the suite, trying not to remind myself that it was as empty as my house back home. Almost as nice, too. The bedroom was like something out of a movie. The massive bed was sunken into the room, with plush carpeted steps leading down to it, and a huge round mirror was mounted on the ceiling. I fiddled with the switches on a panel on the wall and let out a little gasp of pleasure as a spinning disco ball descended from a crevice overhead, sending dancing flashes of light glittering over the ceiling.
I flipped the switch again and laughed with delight when it retreated back into its hiding spot. I didn’t have anything like that at home!
Maybe it’s time to get a little more creative, I thought. I’d been so obsessed with my custom-molded marble bathtub, I’d never once thought of disco lights and mirrors over my bed. I walked back into the living room and smiled when I saw the open bottle of champagne perched perfectly in a bucket of ice, two sparkling gold flutes lying next to it. I grabbed one, ignoring the little reminder of the fact that I was alone that the other one was subtly hinting at, and poured myself a healthy glass of bubbly.
It was the good stuff.
It went down like pink fireworks. The bubbles rippling against my throat as it slid down, the cold piercing my chest, the buzz hitting me fast and mixing with the whiskey I’d had on the place. I downed the rest of it a little faster than I normally would, hoping for the best and telling myself to slow down, all at the same time.
I poured another glass and spun around to the view and let a huge grin spread across my face as I trailed my eyes around the horizon. As Charles said, soon the endless street of neon lights would be shimmering with life. Looking down on it now, a wave of anticipation washed over me.
Down there, I was going to find a new beginning.
Down there, I might just find myself again.
Down there, anything was possible.
All I had to do was open myself up to the possibilities.
With the liquid courage I was slowly sipping, I might just be able to manage it.