JESSIE
I don’t know what I’m expecting from Ryan but it certainly isn’t what happens next.
We take a moment to freshen up and then we’re going down in the elevator so fast my stomach rises and my ears pop. The limo is waiting outside the hotel and the driver seems to know where we’re going because Ryan doesn’t say a word. Darryl and Freddie are there like two mountains of men. I feel safe with them with us but also strangely on edge. We cruise along the strip pretty slowly because there is traffic but that’s okay with me. I get to take in all the weird and wonderful sights again and love watching all the people milling around.
I keep thinking we’re going to stop as we pass yet another hotel. Is he taking me to a show? I have no idea. When we pull up to New York, New York I look at him quizzically.
He grins so widely that he immediately looks like a younger, cheeky version of himself. “Ready to ride the Manhattan Express Rollercoaster, Jessie?”
Oh my god. Is he serious? “Hell, yeah,” I squeal. Ryan has no idea but I love rides. The crazier the better.
“Come on then.”
We head into the hotel and follow signs to where we can board the rollercoaster. My heart is thudding in a good way and Ryan holds my hand tightly the whole time. I tell him about the rides I’ve been on in the past and then ask him if he’s done anything like this before.
He shakes his head. “Always been too busy focusing on business,” he says. There’s no real regret in his voice, it’s just a statement of fact, but I feel sad for him
“All work and no play makes Ryan a dull boy,” I say jokily.
He smiles and kisses my lips. “I’m trying to change all that, Jessie.”
“Well, this is a pretty good start.”
When we reach the front, the man responsible for boarding the riders ushers us to the front. It seems Ryan has it all organized. The most thrilling place to be when you ride any rollercoaster is the first row of seats. I guess when he decides to do something, he does it properly.
We only have to wait a minute or so while the other passengers are boarded. Just before the ride begins, Ryan reaches down and gives my hand a squeeze. It’s like the gesture is spontaneously repeated in my chest. It’s hard to link this man who wants to do crazy childish things with the serious man who came to The Kitty Cat Club and took me driving along the coast. I feel like I’ve peeled away his tough outer shell and now I can see his softer inner self. I like this Ryan. It’s stupid for me to make assumptions but I feel like this side of him is the real Ryan. The rest feels like an act that he’s perfected to get where he has in the world.
As we shoot off at speed I keep looking over at him. His smile is wide, his eyes bright. He whoops so loudly when we hit a big bump that I laugh out loud and as we make our way round the outside of the huge hotel, sometimes plummeting from a height, sometimes spinning upside down, I feel immensely privileged that Ryan has chosen me to do this with.
He asked me to be his companion. I thought it was a rich man’s way of softening his actual intensions into something more palatable. Now I’m here with him I understand what he really intended. He wanted some company while he let down his hair and the thought that he didn’t have anyone else to do this with makes me feel so sad for him. I’ve heard it said that it gets lonely as you climb the ladder. It seems to be true in Ryan’s case.
I scream loudly because I want him to know how amazing this experience is for me. I want him to know that I appreciate everything that we’ve done so far. I’m getting paid so much money to be here next to him but the longer we spend together the less the money feels like a real factor.
And as I think that I feel like a fool.
I’m getting sentimental. I’m thinking about this situation in ways that have probably never crossed Ryan’s mind. This is a transaction for him and nothing else. My presence is a convenience and as hard as it is to keep that in mind, I really need to.
My hair is a windswept mess when we clamber off the ride but I don’t care.
“Let’s go,” he says and grins again.
“Where to now, boss?” I ask as he grabs my hand and starts to practically powerwalk across the casino floor.
“This was just an appetizer, baby,” he says, sporting that huge grin again. His gray eyes sparkle as he glances back at me and I giggle in a way that I haven’t for a very long time. It’s a bubbling of happiness that comes from deep inside. A carefree hopeful sound that rings in my ears.
“Tell me,” I plead but he’s having none of it. He obviously likes surprising me.
We get back in the limo and then we’re off in the other direction. More traffic to plow through. More people-watching to do. Ryan’s phone rings while we’re on route and he looks at the screen but doesn’t answer. I wonder who is trying to get hold of him and why he might be avoiding the call but I don’t feel like I can ask him.
It strikes me as crazy how sometimes we can share our bodies with someone but not feel okay to share our minds and our hearts. Why is it that those parts of us feel so much more private and vulnerable than the most intimate physical parts of ourselves?
The call seems to steal some of Ryan’s exuberance but as we get closer to the Stratosphere his eyes begin to shine again. He pushes a button and a huge panoramic sunroof begins to open above us. “Here,” he says, standing and holding out his hand. I feel completely ridiculous standing up in a car with my head poking out of the roof, but if it’s okay for Ryan then it’s okay for me.
The wind whisks my hair around like a tornado and I have to clutch the side of the car roof to stay stable, but it’s amazing to drive up to such a tall, skinny, iconic building and be able to look directly up at it. I know we’re getting stared at but Ryan doesn’t seem to give a damn. He grabs my hand and kisses it, then he tells me to look up at the very top.
There are rides up there.
Right at the very top.
I can see people’s legs dangling as the mechanisms throw themselves out over the edge of the building.
I’m as much of a daredevil as the next person but this is well out of my comfort zone.
I don’t know how to tell Ryan.
“You want to go up there?” I ask him.
He cranes his head to look up and then turns to me. “No,” he says plainly. “Going up there is going to scare the living shit out of me, but I need to do it.”
“Trying to conquer your fear?”
He shakes his head. “Not exactly,” he says but doesn’t elaborate. I want to know so I can understand his motivations. I want to know why so I can decide whether this is something I need to push myself to do with him or whether I can ask to sit this one out. I don’t think he’s the kind of man to force me to do something I don’t want to do. In fact, I know he’s not.
This seems like a really big thing for him.
At the top of the Stratosphere Hotel is a revolving restaurant that allows you to take in the three-hundred-and-sixty degree view of Las Vegas in all its glory. There is also a viewing area for those who want the view but don’t want to sit and eat through it.
On the very roof are the rides that scare me in a way I’ve never been scared before.
Being thrown off a ride a few feet from the ground is one thing. Dropping out of one that is over a thousand feet in the air is something else. I know that the chances of that happening are really slight. The odds are in my favor whatever I do. That doesn’t make me feel any better, though.
“What exactly, then?”
Ryan shakes his head. It seems that the whys of this craziness are staying firmly with him.
We get closer to the hotel and I tell him we should sit down. I’ve made enough of a spectacle of myself for one day. We stroll through another casino floor towards the elevators. This is the tallest building in Vegas so I know that my ears are going to pop again. There is a family traveling with us and the kids all whoop excitedly as we begin to rise. I see Ryan gazing down at the little girl who can’t be more than three years old and I’m surprised to see him smile. I don’t know why I assumed he isn’t a paternal type. Maybe it’s his authoritarian ways and the fact he never had any kids when he was married. I guess he might assume the same about me. When Ryan looks up he catches me watching him. I save this up as something to ask him another time. Maybe later over dinner.
When the elevator doors open my mind seems to go blank. I don’t take in anything of my surroundings, I just cling to Ryan’s hand while he leads me where he wants. The view is amazing. It’s how I imagine it must feel to stand on the top of a mountain but this isn’t the end of a long journey for me, this is the beginning of a nightmare. God. My hands are trembling. Ryan must be able to feel that.
“Jessie.” He looks at me closely and must see how gray I’m looking. There is sweat around my hairline.
“I can’t do it,” I say. Even my voice is trembly.
“It’s okay,” he says, pulling my hand to his mouth and kissing it. “This is something I need to do. You don’t have to come along for the ride.”
I snort at his lame joke but I feel better already. Then I realize what he’s planning to do. The Sky Jump. He’s gonna put on a harness and jump off the top of this building. My heart is in my mouth at the thought of it.
“Are you serious?” I ask him, pointing to the sign.
Ryan nods, looking very serious. Other people around as seem to be buzzing with excitement but that isn’t Ryan. This seems like a chore. Almost as though he’s been forced to do it, or dared maybe.
“Okay,” I say. I lean up on my tiptoes and kiss his lips. It feels like the right thing to do because I can feel the tension rolling off him and I want to do whatever I can to help him.
“Will you wait at the bottom for me?” he asks.
“You don’t want me to stay up here while you get harnessed up?”
“I think I’d prefer it if you were waiting for me at the bottom. It’ll be an incentive for me to jump.” Ryan bends to kiss my lips softly and then he presses a soft kiss to my forehead. “See you on the other side.” I squeeze his hand but I don’t want to baby him too much. He’s a man. A man who’s used to taking on the world and winning. He might be scared of heights (even if he won’t admit it) but I have no doubts that he’ll do this. Ryan has some serious mental strength and that’s all it takes to get through the tough times in life. Some people live their lives through a veil of fear. Ryan certainly isn’t one of them.
I hurry to the waiting area that is outside the hotel. I know I have time because there were plenty of other people waiting in line for the privilege of scaring themselves half to death.
I watch a few people jump, and those around me that are connected to them scream and shout their encouragement and praise. My heart is beating fast. I imagine Ryan standing at the top in his harness and looking out at the spread of Las Vegas and the desert beyond. My chest feels tight with the panic I imagine him feeling. That veil of fear will be there. The innate sense of self-preservation that we have evolved as a species. The bit of our brain that deals purely with fight or flight responses will be exploding in Ryan’s head right now. I swallow and it’s more like a gulp.
And then I hear his voice.
He’s on his way down but he isn’t screaming or swearing as I imagined he might. He’s shouting for joy, his arms spread wide as though he’s reaching for the stars that are hidden by the brightness of the sun. I’m exhilarated for him and completely terrified that the harness is going to fail. It’s only when his feet touch down safely that I let out the breath I’ve had trapped in my chest for his entire descent.
His eyes find mine in the crowd as his harness is removed. His cheeks are flushed and his smile is broad. He looks like a man who has conquered an enemy. A man who has defeated a fear.
For a second I think that maybe I should tell him I’ve changed my mind. If Ryan can do it, then I know I can too, but I find that all I want to do is slip into his embrace and feel his hands stroke over my hair and touch my face. I want to exhale against his chest and revel in his victory.
So I do.
It feels as good as I thought it would, but just as my heart soars, it sinks because as perfect as every moment with Ryan feels, there’s a clock ticking in the background that I can’t forget, no matter how much I might like to.