After some time, Asher set up a small LLC and paid the corporation Sienna’s money. Then he withdrew a salary in cash for her. Asher made it work, no matter what.
He told his accountant it was a little talent-search business he set up on the side to find new dancers. Despite the fact that she hated lying or deceiving the IRS, there was simply no way around it. Thankfully, Vegas wasn’t a place where many looked into one another’s personal business. There was too much shit to hide on everyone’s part, so Sienna Flower wasn’t a target.
Everyone took it for what it was worth: She was Sienna Flower, queen of the strippers in Vegas, and made a shit load of money. Period.
She had an extremely well-done fake driver’s license to prove she was in fact Sienna Flower; yet another benefit of living in Vegas. She only had to hope and pray no one ever really ran her social security or driver’s license numbers.
After thinking too long and hard in the tub, Sienna’s skin was wrinkled like a prune and the water had cooled off. She climbed out and wrapped herself in a huge terry robe before slipping into bed.
Her bed was another of her favorite purchases. It was a huge king-sized sleigh bed with silky sheets and way too many throw pillows. An indulgence so contradictory to her austere upbringing, she couldn’t help but smile every time she crawled into it, despite the fact she was crawling into it alone.
Often Sienna drifted off to sleep as she watched the early-morning news, typical of the life of someone in the adult entertainment industry. As the sun came up, the strip clubs closed for the night. Days and nights were forever mixed up, but she was used to it now. In fact, she liked not having to be home alone in bed in the dark, when her thoughts jumbled in her head.
Sienna turned off the TV and snuggled deep in her soft sheets and covers. This was the time she felt lonely, with no one to warm her feet or bring her a cup of hot tea. Not that she’d had that in her marriage, but somewhere deep down she dreamed of it.
Maybe I should get a dog?
AFTER FINISHING his nightcap and cigar, Carson exchanged a few good-natured jokes with Victor and closed out his tab. Slot machines clanged loudly all around him, and a chorus of excited shouts went up at a nearby roulette table. He shook his head and bit back a smile, darkly amused that someone’s luck was obviously better than his.
Fueled by the oxygen being pumped into the casino, his long legs ate up the luxurious carpet covering the casino floor as he approached the elevator, intent on a good night’s sleep. By himself. But all his good intentions were derailed when he heard someone call his name from across the elevator lobby.
“Carson! Carson Graham!” a woman called out as she walked toward him. “Wow, look at you, still as striking as ever. I’m not one bit surprised to find you walking around one of the nicest hotels in Sin City.”
Has she always been this loud?
He allowed himself a mental sigh, then arranged his features into a welcoming expression. “Lucinda Field. Wow, right back at you,” he said carefully as he was flooded with a mixture of emotions. “I haven’t seen you in over a decade, and here we are, running into each other in Vegas.”
A decade? Actually, it had been slightly longer than that since he’d last seen Lucinda. Since college, in fact. They’d had the same major, which meant they attended many of the same classes together. And as luck would have it, were frequently paired together as study partners or part of the same project group.
Carson knew she’d always liked him more than a friend, but he never went beyond friendship with her. Mostly because he was sure she would want more, and he wasn’t that type of guy, especially way back then. With his abandonment issues at their absolute worst, Carson hopped from bed to bed throughout college. Like now, he never made promises. Although, he might have been a tad worse back then.
He was always up front about his preference for a lack of strings in his relationships. He knew his good looks, charm, and penchant for the good life helped in this department. Without any family keeping him tied down and no real visions of a white picket fence in his future, he lived life fully during college. Nice dinners, expensive beer, and fast motorcycles were his calling card.
Lucinda always pushed him to let her take a taste of the wild life with him, but he never bit. She was a good girl from a nice family. Although they both graduated with double majors in history and political science, Lucinda was smart and went to law school, while he was recruited by the FBI.
Unlike him, Carson was certain Lucinda dreamed of two kids, a dog, and the same white picket fence that gave him nightmares. He never wanted to lead her on, so he didn’t. Perhaps he was a bit of a man-whore back then, but one with a heart.