“He knows my room number and name. Hell, he knows my address in L.A. The man knows how to contact me if he wants.”
“What do you want to do then?”
I stand up. “I want to wash this heavy makeup off my face.”
“Chicken.”
“Bock. Bock.” I walk into the bathroom and start cleaning my face. When I come back out, Tracy is asleep curled up on the bed. She never could hold her liquor… and I hope she never can. I like her just the way she is.
Picking up my phone from the dresser, I check for messages. Sitting down at the desk, I prop my feet up on the window ledge. I look at the sparkling lights of The Strip, my reflection staring back at me from the glass. Maybe she’s right. Maybe I do keep dating the same type of guys and that’s why it never goes anywhere. But can it really be more than sex with a rock star? I highly doubt that Johnny Outlaw is a relationship type of guy. So why bother? Why set myself up for heartache?
I close my eyes, feeling the weight of the emotions drain my energy. I wake to a double beep and the phone in my hand vibrating. I look down and see a message from Dalton. Third chance a charm? Meet me at the Eiffel Tower restaurant at midnight. I’ll be the one with remorse on my face.
Tracy shuffles. I look over as she’s getting up, and tell her, “He sent me a text.”
She stops and sits back down on the corner of the bed. “He did?”
“He wants to meet me at midnight at the Eiffel Tower Restaurant.”
“What do you think?”
“I’m not gonna go, because if I do, I’ll probably end up forgiving him and wind up in his bed again.”
She doesn’t look convinced, but her face lights up. “Well it’s my last night in Vegas and I haven’t seen the water fountains,” Tracy says. She looks tired, but stands up. “I heard the music is synced to Sinatra. Can’t get more Vegas than that.”
“You don’t want to go to sleep?”
“I got a cat nap. I’m good to go. Wanna go with me?”
Feeling more awake than I should, I say, “I’m always up for an adventure.” I slip on my shoes as she changes clothes.
A ten minute cab ride later, we’re there. We walk down the long descending sidewalk from the hotel and meander along the front of the fountains. The water is dark and unmoving, no big displays of spouting, booming, or dancing water is found. “We missed it,” I say, disappointed because I really needed something wonderful to happen.
“They’ll have another show,” she says, looking at her watch. “But in the meantime, don’t you have a date?” She points across the street at the Eiffel Tower anchoring the Paris Hotel to The Strip.
With a smile and a sideways look, I ask, “I was set-up, wasn’t I?”
She nods, proud of herself. “I’m afraid so. Hope you’re not mad.”
“I’m not mad at you, but it doesn’t change the fact that he lied to me.” The realization sobering as I lean against the cement railing, my fingers holding tight. “I don’t think I can go.”
“I don’t think he lied, Holli. I think you’re looking for reasons to end it. I can tell you like him, but for whatever reason you’ve decided everything that happened between you was built on false pretenses. Maybe it was. Maybe it wasn’t. You have a chance to find out and I think you should take it.”
“Third chance a charm,” I repeat his message. I narrow my eyes at her. “Just so you know, I’m kind of hating you right now.”
“I’m good with that. Now go.”
“Fine,” I say, my stubborn side coming out. I’ll go just to spite her because she thinks I’ll chicken out.
“I can stay and wait if you want.”
“No, it’s okay. Thanks.” My mind starts going into overdrive with the possibilities of the pain I’m setting myself up for. What if this is a ruse? What if he doesn’t show? Maybe he’ll change his mind and after what happened, he might be as done with me as I was with him earlier.
Crossing the street, these thoughts make each step heavier, my heart being dragged behind me. While walking up the hotel steps, I consider turning around, knowing it’s not too late to catch Tracy before she leaves. When I look back, she’s gone already. As much as I want to start swearing her name up and down to high Heaven for abandoning me, she accomplished her mission, which was to get me here. The rest is on my shoulders.
Inside, I stick to the edge of the casino floor. I’m nervous and there’s no hiding it as I quickly wipe my hands on my jeans before approaching the hostess. She’s set up behind a podium, guarding the elevator doors that will lead me up to the restaurant. “Hi,” I start, but she cuts me off.