“Hello there,” someone said off to my left.
A woman’s voice – low and husky, kind of like Lauren Bacall’s when she was twenty years old and in black-and-white movies.
I turned around, expecting to see a waitress.
She wasn’t a waitress.
She was, however, one of the most beautiful women I’d ever seen. Face-to-face, or even in a movie or the pages of a magazine. She had skin like porcelain, cheekbones like a model’s, eyes the color of emeralds, and a perfectly sculpted nose and lips. Her golden blonde hair was swept up into a kind of updo or chignon that showed off her long, elegant neck. Every strand was immaculately in place.
She was wearing a really nice business suit – white silk blouse, grey pencil skirt, expensive tailored jacket. Everything was either tight enough, high enough, or low enough to show off an amazing figure, loooong legs, and a tiny little waist.
Her makeup was minimal, as was her jewelry. Tiny diamond earrings, matched by a small diamond pendant on a slim gold necklace. A couple of rings set with diamonds and rubies – though none on her left ring finger.
She was probably in her late 20’s, though I was guessing that really because she was so tall. Compared to me, anyway. She didn’t have a wrinkle on her face – no laugh lines, no smile lines… just smooth, perfect skin.
She was beautiful in an elegant, prim, proper way, with style, taste, and grace to boot.
In short, she looked like Cinderella went off and got a Fortune 500 top executive job.
And then attended some sort of convention in Vegas, I guess.
I hated her for a second for being so beautiful, then reprimanded myself.
“Hi,” I answered.
“I’m so sorry to bother you… but can you tell me, where did you get that dress?” she asked.
Grace Kelly with Lauren Bacall’s voice. Damn.
I couldn’t for the life of me understand why she was asking me about my dress. It probably cost at least a grand less than her ensemble – and while I liked what I was wearing, hers was pretty damn top-notch.
“Ann Taylor,” I answered.
“It’s so cute. You have good taste.”
Oh… well…
My hater-ation went down several notches, and my friendliness quotient went up. Wine and flattery, greatest social lubricants in the world.
“Thank you – but, I mean, what you’re wearing is beautiful.”
She waved her hand through the air like she was batting away the compliment, and her expression said, Oh, YOU know how it is.
“Have to get dolled up for business.” Then she looked me dead in the eyes and said, “But your boyfriend is a lucky man.”
My first reaction was to say, ‘Oh, he’s not really my boyfriend.’
My second reaction was to think, It kind of sucks he’s not my boyfriend.
And my third reaction – which would have probably been my first, if not for the wine – was, Wow, this is a weird conversation.
First Cinderella comes over and compliments me… and now she’s talking about my ‘boyfriend’…
Is she just seeing if I HAVE a boyfriend?
Why would she do that?
Holy shit, is Grace Kelly/Lauren Bacall HITTING on me?!
“Um… well… we – he and I – just started dating…”
“But you’re here together?”
I frowned a little, even as I kept a smile on my face. Chatty Kathy here was seriously weirding me out.
Is she still hitting on me? What the hell?
She smiled when I didn’t answer, as though to put me at ease. “Best part of the relationship… when everything is romantic.”
“Yeah… it’s great…”
I probably looked like a girl in a horror movie when she realizes the proprietor of the spooky old inn isn’t exactly right in the head.
“Why isn’t he here?” she asked.
“Um… he’s working…?” Not that it’s any business of yours?
“Ah. Be sure to wear that for him later – he’ll love it.”
“I… uh… yeah, I plan on it.”
“Well, I’ve taken up enough of your time. Have a great day – and thanks for the information.” She smiled. “About the dress.”
“You’re welcome.”
She fluttered her fingers like Ta ta, and glided off effortlessly on her four-inch, super-cute pumps.
Wow. THAT was weird.
It’s not every day that Kate Upton comes up and tells you you have a nice bod. Or Miranda Kerr says you’re cute.
And might be trying to get into your pants.
Flattering, I suppose… but the vibe was strange. Sort of inappropriate and slightly creepy.
But my second glass of Riesling put a nice glow on the memory a few minutes later.
And then I forgot all about it.
26
After I finished lunch, I stopped by the casino for the hell of it. If you go to Vegas and don’t gamble, what’s the point?
(Besides the sex, fancy dinners, and surreal car trips out to the desert, I mean.)
I bet on a few hands of blackjack, and then when I was losing too badly, I switched to slots. That was not a good choice, as I could not figure most of them out. There’s your old-school ones, yes, where you’re trying to line up ‘Bars’ and Lucky 7’s and fruit and whatnot – but I’m talking about the flashy new ones, with strange Egyptian or ‘Under The Sea’ themes, or where you can line things up in a zig-zag line. You have to have a genius-level IQ to know what’s going on with some of them. I stared at them for a few minutes, trying to decipher what I was supposed to accomplish, and just ended up feeling like an ADD kid without my Adderall, eyes darting from one flashing light to another. So I went back over to one of the old-school ones and promptly lost $20 in about 5 minutes.
That was it. $100 was my limit. $80 on blackjack, $20 on slots, we out. Even with 50 grand in the bank, losing a hundred dollars was painful.
I was leaving the casino and pondering my next move when I got a call from Connor. I checked the time on my cell: a little after 3PM.
“Hey.”
“Where you at?” he said, trying to sound as ‘street’ as possible.
It was the first thing I’d witnessed that he just couldn’t quite pull off.
It was goofy and adorable.
“‘Where you at’? What, have you been hanging out with Macklemore?”
“I don’t even know who that is.”
“Eminem, then.”
“Okay, I know who that is. Isn’t that what the kids say these days when they’re making a booty call? ‘Where you at?’”
I actually froze in the lobby of the Venetian, blushed, and hid my face with one hand as I whispered into the phone, “Oh my GOD tell me you are not still in the meeting with the governor of Nevada…”
“No, no. Just a state senator.”
“Connor – ”
“He doesn’t mind – he’s giving me the thumbs-up right now – ”
“CONNOR!”
He laughed. “I’m joking. I just finished for the day.”
I finally breathed in again. “Thank God.”
“I didn’t know you were so prudish, Lily.”
“About you talking about booty calls in front of elected officials?”
“No, just booty calls, period.”
“I’m NOT.”
Actually, I was. First of all, I’m not sure a boyfriend calling you to have sex is technically a booty call. And if any of my exes had tried it while we were together, I probably would have just hung up on them.
“Is that what this is?” I continued. “A booty call?”
“Hell yes.”
“Wow, somebody’s hot and bothered.”
“Happens when my plans for world domination go as planned.”
“The meetings went that well, huh?”
“You have no idea.”
“If you get hot and bothered when things go your way, then I think I have an idea.”
“Where are you?”
“About to leave the Venetian.”
“Go wait out front, I’ll pick you up.”
“Wait out front where?”
“I don’t know – go out front and describe where you are. What are you wearing?”
“Is this for identification purposes, or are you starting in on phone sex now?”
“Well, it WAS for identification purposes, but I like the way you’re thinking.”
I laughed. “Wow, if you don’t get your morning fix, you just turn into a little horndog, don’t you?”
“Yes. Like that movie GREMLINS… sort of. ”
“I love that movie!”
“I figured you might. Are you outside yet?”
“Yeah… there’s a sort of bridge that connects the Venetian to Treasure Island.”
I only knew it was Treasure Island because of the gaudy green, red, and blue sign out in front of the casino. That, and the words ‘Treasure Island’ at the top of the twenty-story hotel. I’m brilliant like that.
“Right by that bridge, there’s a break in the railing where cars can drive up. Can you pick me up there?”
“Absolutely. You still haven’t told me what you’re wearing, though.”
“A little black dress.”
“Ah. Is it easy access?”
“Aren’t they all?”
“Some more than others. What have you got on underneath?”
I giggled a little as I headed over to the meeting place. “Are you serious?”