The Resistance(18)

She yawns, then mumbles, “Sure. I’m going back to sleep.”

After turning on the bathroom light, I dig through my suitcase and find my workout clothes and sneakers. I change quickly and make a fast exit. With my keycard in hand, I head to the hotel gym and spend the next hour rotating between the treadmill, the elliptical, and a stair-stepping machine. The burn in my muscles reminds me of last night, images of being on top flood my mind. Today I’m sore, but I’ve always relished that feeling. It makes me feel alive, wanted, even pretty. I shouldn’t let those kinds of superficial emotions affect my self-esteem, but it feels good to be sexually desired.

Tired and weak from the workout, I search out coffee on the casino floor only to find vacuums humming in between the machines. Vegas is sad at this time of day. So vibrant at night, but so desolate in the morning.

I find the café by the pool and order a latte and an English muffin. Taking a seat at a nearby table, I watch as a few people start to stumble their way to stake claim to a pool lounger with their towel and then disappear again, probably going back to bed.

Standing up, I set my mug down and head back to the room. Even after having coffee, I’m feeling tired again. It’s probably as much an emotional exhaustion as a physical one.

Hoping not to wake Tracy, I’m quiet when opening the door. “Good morning, Hols.” Guess she’s awake.

“Morning.”

“How was the workout?” She sits up, adjusting her too large of frames for her face glasses to the top of her head. The curtains are open, so I can see everything.

“Good. I think I might shower and go back to bed.”

She nods, looking like she’s got more on her mind than me working out this early in the morning.

“Spit it out, Tracy.”

“I was just wondering something,” she starts to say while looking down. “If you were really at a spa last night. It is kind of odd to go straight from a party to get a massage.” She looks straight into my eyes.

Damn, she’s good. Really good.

“Can we talk about this after I shower? I feel gross.” Disappearing into the bathroom without waiting for her response gives me ten extra minutes. I don’t like to lie and I’m not really in the mood to play twenty questions, but I’m also not sure if I want her to know about last night either.

When I return to the main room, I have my pajamas back on and slip under the covers.

She’s persistent—one of the reasons I hired her. “You don’t have to talk about it, reveal any secrets or anything. Just doesn’t seem to add up is all.”

“I’m going back to bed.”

“Alright. Alright. I got the hint, but you know you can trust me, right?”

“I do trust you. Just need a little more time to think things through.” As soon as I close my eyes, I hear her clanging around and look up. The delicious smell of bacon hits my senses and makes my stomach growl. “You ordered breakfast?”

“Nope.” She shakes her head and takes a piece of bacon from the plate sitting atop the room service cart. There are several other plates covered with silver domes, a bottle of champagne, orange juice and berries.

I sit up. “You didn’t order room service?”

“Nope, I didn’t.”

“I can assume that this food did not magically appear. It was delivered while I was in the shower?”

“You would assume right though it felt pretty magical since I didn’t order it.”

“If you didn’t order it, then who did?”

She holds a note in the air and with a mouth full of bacon, waves it around. “Good question. Maybe we should ask your secret admirer since he sent it to you.”

Jumping to my feet, I immediately snatch the card and jump back in bed, huddling under the covers. I flip it open and read: Here’s hoping fresh starts can replace bad endings. One more chance? D.

“Who’s D?” Tracy asks.

I try to distract. “Why’d you leave L.A.?”

Watching her, she sets the lid back down and walks to the window. With her arms crossed over her chest, she says, “Like you, I need a little time to process something.” When she turns and looks back at me, I nod. “Thank you for understanding.” She takes a deep breath and releases it, her whole demeanor changing and a smile appears. “I’m gonna catch some desert rays. Get some rest or join me by the pool… or maybe even give this D another chance.”

I laugh. “That’s the bacon talking.”

Shrugging, she says, “I’m weak to bacon. What can I say?”

“Who isn’t? Toss me a piece please.”

She does, then goes to the bathroom to get ready. From across the room, I stare out the large window, Vegas coming to life outside of it. Five minutes later, she’s out the door and I’m left lying in bed with a handwritten note card pressed to my heart. Flashes of Dalton biting his lower lip as he came comes to mind. And just like in the bar last night, I find him impossible to resist.