The Resistance(33)
“No way,” he chuckles. “That’s such a cliché. I expected something more unique from you.”
“Don’t hold back or anything. Sorry to disappoint,” I reply sarcastically. “How about you?”
“The back of my Ford truck. I set it up with an air mattress in the back and parked in a field. I stole a bottle of red wine from my parents and played Barry White on the recommendation of this guy Steve from school who scored with all the girls.”
I smile. “I love that you went to so much effort. Tell me about her.”
“You want to know about my ex-girlfriend?” He seems surprised.
“I want to know about you and she’s a part of your past, so tell me about her.”
“Okay. Her name was Patty O’Toole. She was head cheerleader and with a name like that, she was lucky she was hot. Every guy in school wanted to date her—”
“But you got her.”
“I got her because I was a right fielder and star player. After I was injured, she started dating Ricky Brouchard, my best friend and replacement on the ball field.”
“So did the Barry White work?”
“I think it was more the wine. There was nothing smooth about my moves back then. We had sex and then I puked over the side of the truck bed.”
“Very romantic.”
He chuckles. “I’ve learned a few things since then.”
“I can vouch for that.” I take a drink from the can and then see the hotel sign ahead. “There it is.”
Anxious to get back to the hotel, he takes my hand and we pick up our pace. I can tell he wants to continue what we started in the restaurant as much as I do.
As we approach the parking lot of the hotel, he stops us, and says, “People will recognize me in here. If we get separated or get crowded in, go to my room and wait for me.” He pulls his room key out of his wallet. “Here, take this.”
Sticking it into my back pocket, I say, “Will you be alright?”
“I’m used to it, but I don’t want you hurt and I can never judge how these things will go.”
“I’ll take the bag so you have your hands free.” He hands it to me and I ask, “Why does it feel like we’re going into battle?”
He doesn’t answer, but looks ahead. I see his eyes focused forward, his shoulders tensing as if on high alert. “Meet me at the room. Promise me.”
The situation hovers over our heads like a rain cloud. “I promise.”
Under the hotel carport, the chatter starts. It grows as we approach the doors. Then they descend. Out of my peripheral, I see him swarmed. Dalton stops, his eyes connecting with mine for a brief second before he turns his attention to signing shirts and anything else people shove his way, including their bodies. I see the transformation before my eyes. The Dalton who was just holding my hand is now all business and in full Johnny Outlaw mode—laughing, posing, owning everybody’s attention in the vicinity.
Keeping my promise, I go, slipping inside undetected by any of his fans.
Just as I step into the elevator, a couple walks in behind me. He’s in a T-shirt that has the sleeves ripped off and wearing a bandanna around his head. She’s dressed very risqué, but we’re in Vegas where anything goes.
On the other hand, I catch a glimpse of myself in the shiny brass elevator walls as I’m entering Dalton’s keycard and pushing the button. The guy does the same but pushes the floor below mine. I stand there mortified that I’m just now remembering that I washed my face before I went out with Tracy tonight. I have no make-up on, my hair is pulled back into a ponytail, and I’m wearing one of my old T-shirts. And yet, this guy smiles at me.
If I could ball up nice and tiny and disappear right now, I would. I just look down at my slip-on espadrilles and pray they are too busy making out to notice me.
“You with Outlaw?” The guy’s voice is rough, like he smokes too many cigarettes.
When I look up, they’re both staring at me, the girl’s expression a lot less friendly than his.
“You’re with Johnny?” she asks as if it’s the most shocking thing she’s ever heard, or disgusting. I’m not sure.
My defenses kick in, so I stand a little taller. “Yes.”
The guy smiles, lazy like a stoner. “Dude.”
I’m not sure what that means, but it seems like a good thing. The doors open and he walks out. She’s draped on him like a pelt, but takes her time to glare at me in disgust one last time when she passes. It does wonders for my ego…
The doors close and I get off one floor higher. I let myself into the suite and walk to the bar, setting the junk food bag down. There’s a fruit tray along with a basket of fruit on the dining table with a note.