“Revelations are hard to come by, but when you do have one, they’re usually worth the wait.” ~Johnny Outlaw
The Bugles are gone, the Slim Jim devoured after we had sex on the couch. The Twix remains and I’m not liking the cunning look in Dalton’s eyes, so I settle the issue. “The Twix is mine.”
“I thought we were sharing everything?”
“You said you wanted the Slim Jim.”
“But you ate half of it,” he states, crossing his arms over chest.
He’s got me there. “Good point.” I walk inside to the bar and grab the Twix from the counter. When I return to the balcony, he’s looking out over the city of Las Vegas.
“Sin City is where dreams come to die,” he says, a somber tone taking over. Even after the short amount of time we’ve spent together, I’m starting to get used to his moods. It’s fascinating how you begin to read people, becoming accustomed to their habits and traits when you spend any real amount of time with them, especially like we have.
“Did your dreams die in Vegas?” I ask, sidling up next to him.
He wraps his arm around my shoulders, and says, “No. My dreams died in Texas when I was eighteen.”
I’m surprised he seems to feel his current life is a back-up plan. “Tell me what happened.”
A long pause leads him into a deep breath and a loud sigh before he says, “We were in our last game of the season. If my team won, we’d go to the playoffs. If we lost, the season would be over. I had played some of my best ball that game. I caught two balls in the outfield and hit a homerun by the fifth inning. The second time I was up to bat I hit a fly ball. It was an easy catch, an easier out, but they missed. They fucking missed it and I thought I was home-free. But the other pitcher sucked and when he threw the ball into home plate to strike me out, he hit me instead. Imagine a seventy-five mile an hour baseball hitting you squarely on the shoulder.” His hand rubs over the number forty-four tattoo like it still bothers him. “The impact from the hit fractured my humerus, just under my rotator cuff and busted up some of my bicep muscles, which ended my season on the field with me flat on my back.” He looks at me and says, “We scored, won the game, and I was helped off the field, my career in baseball over.”
I’m unsure how to proceed with this information—condolences or reassurance. He’s probably been drowning in everyone else’s sympathy for years, so I just ask, “Was forty-four your number?”
“Mine and Hank Aaron’s. About the only thing we ended up having in common.”
“How’d your team do in the playoffs?”
“We were slaughtered in the first round.”
“Fine, you win. You can have half my Twix.” I hold one of the long cookie bars out for him.
Biting off the end, he smiles as he chews. “I knew I could get you to give up the candy with a sob story. Girls are so gullible.”
I punch him in the arm. “You made that up to get my candy?”
He’s laughing, and ducking from my swings as we move around the furniture on the balcony. Hiding behind a lounger, he has his hands in the air, holding up his half-eaten candy bar in surrender. “Stop. C’mon. I give up. I didn’t make it up. It’s the honest truth. That’s what happened.” He pauses for a second, then says, “But did I use the story to get your candy? Sure did.” He takes another bite flaunting it in front of me.
He smiles. His face is as bright as the stars in the dark desert sky at night. It makes me giggle. He doesn’t even realize he was played. Since his dark mood is gone, I won’t rub it in that he’s really the gullible one. I’ll just enjoy the time we have together instead.
I sit down in a chair, but Dalton remains standing. He looks at his watch, the silver face reflecting from the light inside the room. “It’s late.”
Leaning my head back, I look his way, feeling tired when the time is mentioned. “How much time do we have left?”
“About four hours.”
“Then you’re off, jetting into the great blue yonder to who knows where.” I close my eyes, feeling my body relaxing against the plush cushions.
“I’m going to Germany.” Opening my eyes, he’s in front of me. He squats down so he’s eye-level. “I’ll be there for a week and then I have no idea after that. I think I come back to L.A. in three or four weeks, but I’m not sure.”
My suspicions are growing and I wonder if he’s feeling the same as me. “Why are you telling me this?”
With his hands on my bare thighs, his thumbs rubbing my skin gently, he says, “I want you to know where I am. I have your number and now you have mine. I don’t want us to end tonight.”
Tears form in the corners of my eyes as I watch him laying his heart on the line.
Reaching up, he soothes my cheek with the warmth of his palm. “I didn’t mean to make you cry.”
“No worries. It’s the happy kind.” I lean forward and hug him, the coarse hairs of his beard scratching my neck, but it feels good. I stop the tears from falling, my heart soaring from the sentiment. “You want to call me after tonight?”
“I do, and since I memorized you address already, I might also want to stop by one day too.” He stands, pulling me up with him, and wraps his arms around my waist.
“You can, anytime. I’d say I’ll be waiting, but yeah, that’s probably too much too soon.”
“Since you already put it out there, I’d like to take you on a real date when I return.”
“We sound like we’re in high school. Next you’ll be asking me to wear your letterman’s jacket.”
“Maybe my class ring?” He smiles and I swoon because yeah, he wants to date me and for me to wear his class ring and stuff.
“How about we start with sleeping together?”
A look of hope crosses his face. “And here I thought five times was a pretty solid start. Damn, Angel, you’re insatiable.”
I push him playfully. “I’m too tired to banter. You’ve worn me out. You win, rock star.”
He winks. “Well, you did request the special—a royal rock star fucking.”
“That I did,” I say, turning from him and walking inside, “and I have absolutely no regrets.”
“What about complaints? Any complaints?” He asks, following me into the bedroom.
Climbing to the middle of the bed, I’m so sleepy, I flop face first. When I roll over he’s next to me. “Only one,” I say.
His expression changes, his voice lower. “What’s that?”
“That you’re leaving me in four hours. I could spend days in bed with you and it wouldn’t be enough. I could spend night after night listening to you hum, the way you do when you’re deep in thought. So four hours is not enough time to memorize the two million, three-hundred and fifty-six thousand other things that I wanted to learn about you.”
Silence.
The silence makes me uncomfortable, so I turn onto my side and snuggle into his. “Are you okay?” I ask nervously. “Are we okay?”
His arm tightens around me, and he whispers, “I’ve never had anyone say anything like that to me before.” When I look up at him, sliding my cheek against his chest, he smiles at me. “We’re more than okay.”
A yawn escapes and my eyelids are heavy.
He adds, “We should get some sleep.”
I snuggle down. “You can sleep on the way to Germany.”
“I’d rather sleep with you. You wouldn’t happen to be free for the next week would you?”
My eyes open wide. “You’re inviting me to Germany?”
“Yes. Private jet, five-star hotel, Michelin rated restaurants. You know, all the perks of being famous.”
I kiss him on the cheek, loving the offer, but disappointed because I know I can’t say yes. “I won’t bore you with my schedule for the week, but I have three meetings I can’t reschedule.”
“The offer stands. You’re invited if you want to come. I’d like you with me. I’d like to get to know you better.”
“I had to move a meeting for this weekend to happen.” Moving up, I press my lips against his ear and whisper, “Your offer means the world to me.”
He turns and kisses me on the lips. No more words are needed tonight. We close our eyes and sleep takes over.
Sunshine fills the room, the bright desert blinding me through the large picture window. The fluffy comforter is cozy, so I snuggle under, avoiding the reality of day for as long as I can.
Daylight! My eyelids fly open and I sit up abruptly, looking around the room for Dalton. He’s not in bed, so I call for him, “Dalton? You here?” Flipping the covers from my legs, I slip out of bed and hurry into the living room. “Dalton?”
I scan the balcony and look for clues to where he might be. Then I see it… and try to gulp down the dread lumping in my throat.
A note sits on the bar, a pen next to it. I walk closer, trepidation filling every step. I don’t pick it up. I don’t even touch it—my heart and head both fearing the worst. When I’m close, I take one last look around the suite for any signs he still might be here. When I don’t see any, I look down and read:
Dear Holliday,
Please don’t hate me for not waking you. No reason both of us should suffer without sleep. Anyway, I’m terrible at goodbyes. I’d rather you remember our goodnight.
Dalton
I stand there rereading the note countless times before I take it, grabbing my phone from the counter, and go back to the bedroom. After climbing back into the middle of the large bed, I pull the covers over me and hold the note to my chest. Then I lose my mind and do crazy girl shit. I smell his pillow. I bury my face straight down into it and do a full inhale. When I come back up, I decide right then and there that the pillow is coming home with me… that and the fruit basket that was knocked off the table last night. Also the Gatorade because I’m thirsty and after all the sexual fun we had over the last twenty-four hours, I probably need some electrolytes replenished.
Noticing the time, I know I should get up and go back to my room. Although I texted Tracy to let her know I wouldn’t be coming back last night, she still might be worried. I crawl out of bed twenty minutes later and start gathering my clothes that are scattered in various locations around the suite. My T-shirt is in the bedroom though I distinctly remember it coming off in the living room. My jeans are under the dining table next to the one remaining unopened condom package. My lace undies are in shreds with pieces in the kitchen, dining area and on the balcony. I find one shoe, but after an exhaustive search, I give up on the other.
I get dressed and walk the around one last time, remembering how in this room, being together, it felt like we ruled the world.
Making sure to grab my note from him, I tuck my phone into my back pocket and go to the door. It feels sad as if the goodbye meant for Dalton is transferred to the room, heavy emotions coming over me. “Goodbye.”
When I open the door, I spot my shoe just outside on the floor. I slip it on, not quite sure how it ended up out there, but it allows me to walk away from this love nest a little less shamefully and with a smile on my face.