Chapter 41

Liam

9:02 PM THURSDAY

The look on my face right now says, Get the fuck out of my way.

I’m walking a million miles an hour. I don’t have time for fucking tourists right now. And yet the tourists stop me anyway.

I might as well have a blinking neon arrow pointing at me with a sign saying, Ask me how to get to the Royale, which, usually, I wouldn’t mind. After all—I own the damn place. But right now, I’m in a hurry, and these tourists are in my way.

First, it’s this little old lady. She’s got that evangelical look about her that says she knows the way to salvation, and it’s in the gaming rooms of my casino.

“Sonny, can you tell me the way to the Royale? Mavis told me I haven’t done Vegas if I haven’t done the Royale.”

I point her two blocks down and tell her to turn right, where she’ll see the sign. Her face brightens and somewhere, something inside me cracks. She’s a sweet old thing, but she’s got fire in her eyes, like she’s a teenager on her way to a slightly illegal hook up.

What the hell, I think. I might as well get her pulse racing just a little bit more. “Hey, Lois,” I call after her. “When you find the place, tell them you need five hundred in chips to get the day started. Give them this and tell them it’s on my tab.”

I scribble instructions on my card for George the concierge.

She looks at me suspiciously. “What’s the catch? You from the Royale or something?”

“Hey,” I assure her, “this town is about getting lucky, and you just did. Simple as that.”

“Well, thank you,” she says, and even though she totters, she looks like she might jump up and click her heels.

That’s one happy person in the universe, I tell myself. I resolve to stay the grouch, though, so the whole firmament of things stays in balance.

I’m dawdling now, looking at my shoes, and making an effort to shrug off the pleasure the old dear left me so that I can stay pissed off.

It’s better than feeling sorry for myself—and I’ve got plenty to feel fucking sorry about.

Becky.

No. Don’t fucking go there.

I bump into a guy holding his wife’s hand.

“Sorry,” I say.

“I’m really sorry,” he says at the same time.

My “sorry” is automatic. His is genuine and heartfelt.

I’m looking at a couple who has come straight from wherever it is you still wear cowboy boots and hats. They both have a smile as wide as the horizon.

“Say,” the man begins, “can you tell us where we might find the Royale?”

I look around and tell him to go straight for one block and turn right.

“Woohoo, Lorraine,” he says, “We almost did it by ourselves. I can feel the luck in my veins. Now let’s get there and get busy.”

There’s that glow again. I can feel my inner grouch melting. They’re about to walk off like kids with spending money who were let loose at the county fair.

“Just a minute,” I say. I sign my card and give it to them. I tell them the same thing I told the old woman.

The man looks suspicious, but Lorraine is on to me. From under her eyelashes, she gives me a wicked ‘Come hither’ grin and says, “Did we just get Vegas lucky?”

“Yup,” I say. “That about explains it.”

The man opens his mouth, but she takes his arm and says, “Come on, honey. We’ve got business to attend to.”

So okay, I’m not pissed off anymore and I’m not a grouch. But I’m still entitled to feeling sorry for myself. What’s the hurry, anyway? I’ve got all day to get back to the Royale. It’s not as if someone’s waiting there for me.

For all I know, Becky’s back in Dan’s arms by now.

No. She wouldn’t, would she?

A guy is walking toward me now, and he’s not paying attention. It’s my turn to get out of the way.

There’s something about this guy, though. He’s homeless for sure. I can tell by the state of his clothes and the hard edges on his face.

He walks with a limp, but his back is straight, and there’s pride in his stride. Something tells me he’s a vet.

“You lost, man?” I ask him.

“No, sir,” he answers. “Just not busy right now.”

I hear the pride in his voice that tells me he would rather be busy. He doesn’t seem the type to take charity, but I give him no choice. I take the wad of cash I have in my pocket and press it into his hand.

“There’s a catch,” I say as I do it. “Don’t drop it down the slots.”

And I pick up my pace and walk on.

“Thanks, man,” he calls after me.

The transaction feels more like an investment than a gift. Of course I can’t be sure, but I hope he’s fucking genuine and will put it to good use.

Maybe I still feel glum, but at least there are four more happy people in the world right now, so that’s something to smile about.

We should do good things for others more often, I resolve―but then I remember the way Becky reacted when I told her about Dan. I was trying to be nice, and what did I get in return? Fucking nothing.

A happy face attracts the best of the universe, it seems. Suddenly, I’m surrounded by softness and curves and the perfume of beautiful women.

I don’t get a say as they take me by the arms and huddle in close, arms outstretched for the perfect selfies.

“You don’t mind, do you?” one of them whispers in my ear.

It takes me a moment to realize what’s happened. I’ve stumbled into a roving bachelorette party on the move. I smile for the cameras.

There are gushes and squeals and, like a flock of birds, the whole party moves on just as quickly as it appeared. They all leave—except one. She’s wearing a fake tiara and veil, and I guess she must be the bride-to-be.

She takes my hand and looks directly into my eyes.

“Hey,” she says softly, “we’re nearly done here. Want to come with me and give me a present for my wedding tomorrow? I promise you that a gift for me will be a gift for you, too.”

I must look a little surprised, because she leans forward to reveal superbly proportioned breasts. She parts her lips, ready for a kiss.

I back away gently. She’s a sweetheart, and there’s no need to be clever about this. Of course, I’m flattered.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” I say. “That’s one fine invitation, but no can do. You see, I’m already married.”

“Oh,” she says and backs away, but keeps hold of my hand.

“Are you sure? How about right now then? They won’t mind,” she says, flicking her eyes to the party disappearing off to a bar. “And what your wife doesn’t know won’t hurt her. And I, for one, won’t be telling.” She gives me a look that says whatever happens now will be wild.

I smile but shake my head.

“Sorry, but it’s a no,” I say. “It matters to me. My darling wife is a beautiful woman. She’s mine, and I’m hers, and there’s nothing more to say on the subject.”

I look at my hand, and she surrenders it.

“Well, mister,” she says, “your wife is one lucky woman, and I sure hope she knows it.”

I let a half smile flicker across my face. The fiancé cocks her head to one side in a question.

I chuckle sadly. “I’m not so sure about that.”

A look of realization comes over her face. She smiles and says, “So long.”

As soon as the words are out of her mouth, arms surround me, and I feel the soft press of a body behind me.

“She does know it! She really does,” I hear Becky say.

My heart leaps. Could it be…?

I spin around and take her in my arms.

“I know how lucky I am,” she says, “I’m sorry. Oh, god, I’m so, so sorry, Liam. I love you.” She squeezes me tighter.

I cut her off and kiss her with all the pent-up passion I feel for her. She returns the kiss for a moment, but then pushes free.

“Sorry,” she says, “I need to breathe… I had to run to catch up with you…and—and I met Dan on the way…just near the pool.”

“Wow, really?” I exclaim.

“Oh, it was okay. He was so gracious. He said he understood and forgave me for everything that happened the other night.”

“That was mighty big of him,” I say with raised eyebrows. “So it’s all squared away now?”

“Sure,” she smiled as her breath comes back to her. “I was just as gracious in return. I pushed him into the pool.”

“But…” I frown. “The shark is still in the pool, Becky.”

She smiles and shrugs. “Becky full of grace, pool full of shark.”

“Where did Sammi even get the shark from?” I ask, bewildered. “I mean, isn’t it dangerous? Isn’t it hungry? What does it eat?”

“Too many questions,” she says and covers my lips with her own.

The kiss is slow and lingering, something I’ve always wanted to give her.

It’s like the world has stopped. There is nothing before it, nothing after it, and nothing about it.

There is just this kiss, this woman, and this moment.