Divas Las Vegas (16 page)

"Meaning, you applied your naked body to his," I said.

"Precisely, my dear Watson. My, you do catch on quick.
Besides, it was for a good cause: my sanity. Those screaming
children were driving me to drink."

"Like that was a far drive. I would think it was more
like a hop, maybe even a short step. In any case, I, for one,
applaud your intentions and am thrilled with the results.
Here, here!" I exclaimed, raising an imagined drink up in
the air, which he thankfully replaced with a real one a short
moment later. "But where did he come up with the room?"

"Ah, that was easy. Another gay couple had reserved it
last week. They're due to check in tonight, and Jacques will
tell them that there were some plumbing problems. Then
he'll offer them our old room. Seeing as there are no other
rooms left in Vegas, I don't see they'll have much of a choice
but to accept. Honestly, I'd love to see their faces when they
see the fishbowl when they were expecting this," he said,
indicating our large, luxurious suite. "I hope they brought
earplugs."

"I'd like to say that I feel guilty over that," I said, "but I
just can't. After yesterday's mess, I needed this bit of good
news. Thank you, dear Justin. Thank you for being such a
slut."

"My pleasure," he said, bowing his head, then added,
"Or should I say, Jacques's."

"Now, one more question."

"Ah, would that be how I came to acquire the company
of our lithe little friend Ahmed for another evening?" he
guessed. I nodded in the affirmative as I sipped my martini.
"Dear Ahmed arrived just as I was switching rooms. Thank
goodness Jacques went back to work because that would've
been a dreadful mess. He's painfully jealous, apparently.
Luckily my stamina is so high. Twice in one night can be
somewhat exhausting," he confessed, and then plopped
down on his bed, martini in hand. I knew what he was
talking about. Twice in two days was exhausting enough
for me.

"Why wasn't Ahmed at work?" I asked.

"He said he was working days for now. But who cares?

The boy is a wonder in bed. The things he does to me
would result in death and dismemberment back in his home
country. Lord only knows where he learned all that stuff,
but I, for one, am grateful. And that accent-oh, man."

I had heard the accent already, so I knew of what he
spoke. It was sexy as all get-out, as was the man who spoke it.
Something about Ahmed's appearances and disappearances
made me a tad edgy, though. I chose to keep my opinions
to myself, however, as Justin was obviously in heaven with
the situation. That, and I knew once I told him about my
encounter with Bradley, he'd go ballistic. I decided to wait
for a good time. Five or six more drinks ought to have done
the trick. Instead, I suggested we go do some gambling.

Another martini later, that's just what we did. I left a
message with Marvin, telling him that I'd be delighted to
have dinner with him. Chris had to work, and I was fast
becoming accustomed to waking up in bed with a handsome man each morning-even if it wasn't the same man.
Then we were off to play. Sadly, before we even made it out
of the hotel, we were unexpectedly detained.

"Mr. Bill Miller?" asked the strange man Jacques was
leading to us.

"That would be me," I replied, warily.

"Detective Lombard. I'm with the Las Vegas Police
Department," he informed us.

"Yes, detective, how can I help you today?" I asked,
nervously.

"I'm investigating the death of Mr. Hartwell, and your
name and hotel were on a piece of paper found in the
deceased's pants. Can you explain that?" he asked.

"Better the paper found in them than me," I joked, to
relieve the tension. (Mine.)

He wasn't amused. "Please, Mr. Miller, a man is dead
here. Can you just tell me your connection with Mr. Hartwell?"

So I did. And Detective Lombard wrote down everything
I said. When I was done, he thanked me for my assistance
and gave me his card, asking me to give him a call if I had
any more information. I thanked him and told him I would.
It was that simple. The whole interview couldn't have lasted
more than ten minutes, but it gave me a pit in my stomach
just the same. I'd never been part of a murder investigation
before, however tangentially-and I wasn't thrilled to be
part of one now, especially as my vase may have been the
cause of it.

When he left, we heaved a sigh of relief. Jacques apologized for leading the detective to us, but I told him it was
no biggie and he was just doing what he had to. Besides,
my involvement should have been very minimal after that
interview. (Should have been.) After that, we practically ran
from the hotel.

"Where to?" Justin asked.

"Anywhere there is a bar/casino, dude. Like, duh," I
replied, to which he responded with three fingers waved in
the air, thereby officially whatevering me.

Once again, we proceeded to the Strip.

"Hey, let's go to the Bellagio," I suggested. "Maybe we'll
run into Marvin. I could use a hug right about now."

"Sounds like a plan," Justin agreed, and we headed that
way.

Which, of course, brings us back to your tour of Vegas.
The Bellagio is near the center of the Strip, across from Paris.
And the first thing you notice is the Fountains of Bellagio.
Words cannot accurately express the grandeur and beauty
of this enormous attraction. The display spans more than
one thousand feet, with water soaring over two hundred in
the air. The fountains are choreographed to music ranging
from classical and operatic pieces to songs from Broadway
to pop classics. All along the sidewalk out in front, people
line up by the hundreds to watch the shows that run every half hour. I swear I get goose pimples every time I view
them. Truly, they are just that magnificent.

And speaking of magnificent, the Bellagio has to rank
right up there as one of the most spectacular hotel/casinos
in the United States. From the lobby, with its two thousand
individually blown glass pieces covering most of the ceiling,
to the botanical garden, with its changing seasonal decor,
you are seriously blown away at every turn. Not to mention
the fact that they house Cirque du Soleil's "0," which is
absolutely breathtaking. And as splendid as the hotel is,
with first-class accommodations for all its guests, the casino
has to be one of the most elegant on the Strip.

The best description of the Bellagio's casino would be:
Classical Mediterranean. It's completely done in muted
golds and deep reds and is snazzy everywhere you look.
As are the patrons. You tend to see a lot fewer people in
shorts and T-shirts at the Bellagio. So, with that said, and
I realize that it sounds like I'm gushing, I have to say that
I really don't like to do my gambling there. It's a lobsterand-caviar kind of casino, and I'm a meat-and-potatoes
kind of guy: I prefer to hobnob with people of my own ilk,
namely poor.

But gambling is gambling, and the chance to run into
Marvin seemed to make the experience worth it. So I sat
down at a lovely quarter slot machine and started pullin'.
Justin sat directly behind me at one of his dollar machines,
and the two of us gabbed away as we rapidly depleted our
money. If it wasn't for the scene that was about to unfold, I
might have sat there dumping quarter after quarter all the
way up to my date with Marvin.

And speaking of Marvin, as I looked up in a desperate
attempt to spot a cocktail waitress, whom should I spy
across the casino floor, sitting at one of the many crowded
bars, but the handsome man himself. If you detect any foreboding in my description, perhaps it's because he wasn't sitting alone. Not that that should have been reason for
concern, mind you, except for the fact that he was sitting
with none other than Bradley.

Talk about your gay dilemmas. Firstly, I wouldn't
normally see anything amiss in two handsome men sitting
and talking at a bar. Happens all the time. But having
just recently met Bradley, I could only assume that he was
forcing his charms on my poor defenseless man. (Granted,
he wasn't my man, per se, but let's just forget that fact for
a moment and continue.) Secondly, I would normally just
walk over to the bar and find out the circumstances of their
sitting together like that, so sickeningly close. I might even
be discreet about it. That's just the kind of man I am. But,
alas, there were no normal things to do when dealing with
Justin. All bets were off. I couldn't go over and find out what
was going on because Justin would then have to confront
Bradley, something I simply wasn't up for just yet. Justin
plus booze, plus crowded casino, plus tragic ex-love, didn't
seem to add up to anything worth experiencing, at least not
firsthand; so I choked down my agonizing curiosity and
feigned a need for a break. I figured putting some distance
between us and a possible scene was for the best.

Justin reluctantly agreed, downed his drink, and we both
got up to leave. I heaved a sigh of relief as we made it out
of the casino and back into the hotel. I was, unfortunately,
premature in my assessment. Oh, we were so close, though.
But close is only good in hand grenades and horseshoes.
Apparently, as we left the casino, Bradley and Marvin were
leaving the bar. We met up, almost simultaneously, right at
the elevator that leads to Marvin's suite. They were together,
obviously, as a, groan, couple. Too bad I didn't have one of
those handy hand grenades then. I would've used it for sure
to avoid the forthcoming confrontation.

Bradley started the volley. "Em, how wonderful it is to
see you again."

Justin shot me an awful look. The "again" did not go
unnoticed. As usual, I had been caught.

Marvin's look was equally bad, but for a different
reason. He looked guilty as hell at being discovered. I didn't
know whether to feel angry with Marvin or sorry for Justin.
Instead, I went decidedly numb.

Seeing my consternation, Bradley started looking from
me to Justin. From me to Justin. And then just to Justin.

"Um, don't I know you?" Bradley asked my troubled
friend.

Long pause. I glanced over at Justin to see what he would
say, but he just stood there, frozen and white as a ghost.

"Sort of. At least you did, once," Justin replied.

Again, long pause as the two of them stood there staring
at each other. Marvin looked confused, but I wasn't about
to fill him in on the details. Then a look of recognition came
over Bradley's face and he lit up like a light.

"Holy shit," he shouted.

"Holy shit, indeed," Justin echoed.

"Holy shit, what?" Marvin asked.

"Holy shit, shut up," I told him.

Then Bradley did something I wasn't expecting. He
lunged at Justin and wrapped his arms around him. Justin
wasn't expecting this either and didn't know how to react.
Basically, he stood there, stock still, and did nothing except
let himself be hugged. When Bradley broke into tears, so
did I. But Justin just stood there, motionless and emotionless. Marvin looked at me questioningly, but I just shot him
a glare, and he hung his head in shame.

"I never thought I'd see you again, Justin," Bradley
gushed. "I found out what your parents did to you after
that day and I felt awful. For years I felt responsible for that.
Now look at you. Standing in front of me like this. It's just
amazing. You look incredible." My heart melted. But still,
Justin just stood there.

Again the unexpected happened.

"Nice to see you again, Bradley. It has been a long time.
You look great as well." Justin spoke robotically. Certainly
not the reaction any of us expected, and it totally threw
poor Bradley off.

"Oh," he said. "Yes, well, okay." He was flushed and
didn't know how to continue with the surprise reunion.
Justin put an end to it instead.

"Well, it looks like you were on your way somewhere,
Bradley, so I won't keep you. It was nice seeing you again.
Bye," he said, grabbing my arm and leading me to an exit
door. I was stunned, but I still managed to shoot Marvin a
wicked glower.

We were outside in a jiff. Justin never even turned
around to see Bradley's reaction. We just kept walking until
we were back on the sidewalk along the Strip. The silence
was deafening.

"I'm sorry, Em," he eventually said, tears running down
his cheeks. Something I'd never witnessed before.

"Don't be sorry, Justin. You were just taken by surprise,
is all. I don't know how I would have reacted if the same
thing happened to me."

"No, I'm sorry about you and Marvin."

"Oh, fuck that. Besides, it was just a fling," I lied. "But
what about you and Bradley?"

"Me and Bradley ended being `me and Bradley' a whole
lifetime ago." Now he was lying. His tears gave him away.

"But it doesn't have to be that way. You're here. He's
here. Certainly this can't be a mere coincidence," I tried, but
I knew that once Justin had made up his mind, there was no
changing it.

"Dude, that's all it is, a coincidence. I got over Bradley a
long time ago. Let's just concentrate on the vase and then get
out of here," he said, but I could hear the pain in his voice.
It was so sad. Much sadder than the thought of Marvin cheating on me. (Well, maybe not much.)

"Okay, Justin, I'll drop it. Besides, that breastplate of his
would be awfully cold in bed."

"And who wants to date a deposed dictator, anyway?"
he added.

Despite his grandiose humor, I had a feeling he did.

As the last tear trickled down our faces, we made our
way back to our hotel, neither saying a word about what
had just happened. But I will tell you this: that was not the
last we saw of Bradley. Naturally, I won't jump ahead of
myself to tell you more; just be forewarned.