The Chapel Wars (20 page)

I preferred to have my face covered during such shameful promotion, so I got Dax and me Hello Kitty costumes on clearance. We waited for my friends at Ceasar’s valet. Within five minutes, Dax already had two toddlers hug his leg. One even screamed and begged for a picture.

“Are you sure you didn’t get me this costume because you’re embarrassed of me?”

I patted his paw. “No. That’s totally why I got you the costume. Plus, what if my parents stopped by—”

“I know.” Dax did an exaggerated head shake. “You are going to tell them though, right? This is getting old, Holly. You can come to my house now, I want to go to yours. I want to be normal with you.”

“We are normal.”

“Really?” Dax motioned to his costume. “Even for Vegas, this isn’t normal.”

It would take a lot of time before I was ready to show Dax The Space. My friends didn’t hang out there; I hardly did. And after watching my parents fight, I wasn’t sure I trusted them with Dax. They might
say
they liked him, but they were obviously good liars. “I promise, next week. We just need to get past Valentine’s Day.”

“I don’t get why Valentine’s Day is so big to you. I know it’s a moneymaker, but is one day life or death?”

“Absolutely.” A group of preteen boys catcalled. I gave them a submissive wave. “My grandpa had a lot of debt. We’re trying to renew our loan, and we need to show a drastic improvement in revenue before we meet with the bank next month. Valentine’s Day will put us over the edge.”

“That’s a lot of responsibility.”

“Yeah. Well.” I shrugged. “It’s over now. That’s why I’ve been doing all this aggressive marketing.”

“And here I thought you had a costume fetish.” Dax tugged off his head. His frown was even more startling because three seconds ago he’d been sporting an innocent feline face. “There’s
something I want to tell you. No, I don’t
want
to tell you, but I need to. I was going to wait for later, but it’s really on my mind.”

“Okay?”

“My grandpa and I had a big blowup today. I don’t even know if I’m going to work tomorrow.”

“Why? Because of us?”

“I just want you to know that tonight I’m here to help with
your
chapel.”

“But why did you get in a fight?”

“It doesn’t matter anymore. He’s just making some stupid business decisions.”

“Like with Angel Gardens?”

“Yeah. I don’t know if he’s serious.”

“What is he going to do?”

Dax paused. “I’m not sure yet. I’ll tell you more when there are definites. I’m just sorry if I seem off tonight.”

“We can go. We don’t have to do this.” I’d had two awful meetings with Victor; I couldn’t imagine what it must have been like for Dax. “Was it bad?”

“You know how my grandpa can be.”

“That I do.”

“Anyway.” Dax shook his shoulders, his hands, like he was shaking the entire idea out of his body. “I just want you to know … you’re amazing. I can’t believe you’ve done all this.”

“Why are we talking about me again?”

“Because you’re my favorite topic to discuss.” He grinned. “You’re up there with moths.”

I rubbed my kitty head against his arm like a cat. “Even luna moths?”

“You win.” He rubbed at my shoulder. Why hadn’t I dressed us like barbarians or something, Dax all shirtless and in a loincloth? “You beat anything.”

“Thanks. I think you’re better than a luna moth too.” Good thing we were getting this goof talk over before my friends showed up. If Dax started talking like this once they got here, who knew what they would think.
They
being everyone but Sam. Sam would happily break into a country duet with Dax.

I licked at Dax’s paw. “You’re sure it’s not just the kitty costume?”

“Definitely not.” He laughed. “Actually, you should probably know, I love you.” And with that, he stuck his head back on.

I went so stiff I swear my tail lifted in the air. Did he just say that? Did he mean to say that or did it just slip out? We were in fake fur tombs, and you don’t profess love next to the valet parking. Was I supposed to fill that hollow air between us with the same phrase?

I mean, I might love him. I likely did. But I wasn’t a parrot. I wanted to say that when I was ready to say that, and
that
was such a big thing to say, especially after talking about his grandpa fifteen seconds beforehand.

It helped that we had our heads on because I couldn’t tell if he was looking at me with expectation. The pause grew staler than the air inside our costumes. I waited … waited until something happened so I didn’t have to do anything myself.

Something finally did. Sam, Camille, Porter, and Grant rolled in to the valet. A bachelor party behind us applauded when Porter and Grant stepped out as showgirls. I don’t know where they found costumes that somewhat fit, or how much it cost to rent the headdresses, but knowing them they’d spent the entire day preparing. Grant actually looked passable, with his long hair teased into a bouffant. Their leg hair poked out through the fishnets and the feathers didn’t do much to cover up their goods.

If there was ever a time my grandpa was rolling around in his grave, this was it.

“Your friends are representing tonight,” Dax said.

“Yeah.” There were four valets. There were ten cars waiting to be helped. Eight luxury cars were displayed along the winding curb of the hotel check-in. One boyfriend professing his love next to me. “Thanks for doing this.”

I could go back and ask more about the fight with his grandpa, but he’d leaped so far away from that topic with the L-word drop. Hearing something like that from someone who I could possibly feel the same way about … this must be how that three-year-old girl felt when she saw two Hello Kitties standing in front of the valet. Joy and a little bit of terror.

“Do you have any lipstick, Camille?” Porter squished his lips together. “I feel like I need more lipstick.”

“My cosmetics are way too high end for you.”

Grant opened a tube of cheap bright pink. “Here you go, dude.”

“I don’t remember dressing in drag being a part of our business marketing plan.” Sam readjusted himself in his Elvis suit.

I slipped my paw into Dax’s. He loved me.

“Are people looking at us?” Camille asked. “When Sam and I were here for New Year’s, everyone was looking at us. It was soooo embarrassing.”

Porter stuck out his leg and did a lunge. “Oh yeah, they’re looking. And they’re liking.”

“Where’s Mike?” Grant asked.

I tried to glance at my watch but the only thing visible on my wrist was fur. “He said he’s coming.”

“Can we go get some hot chocolate or something before we start this?” Camille asked. “This cape isn’t warm enough.”

The doors whooshed open behind us and Mike jumped out, dressed in black and waving plastic samurai swords. We just kind of looked at him and then went back to our conversation.

“Fine. Hot chocolate. Follow me.”

We walked over to the pink-striped canopies at Serendipity 3, an extension of the Serendipity in New York. A lot of Vegas restaurants were New York or LA re-creations. I tried not to eat at these too often, knowing it was just another replica of a much better original. I liked my restaurants one of a kind.

The waitress looked pained once she saw us circled around the table. Porter pulled out a small notebook from the confines of his fake bosom. He drew out a rough map of the Strip and started jotting numbers. “Okay, I think last year, going inside to the high enders was a wash.”

“High enders?” Dax asked.

“Bellagio, the Wynn, anything at City Center,” I said. “Rich people.”

“They wouldn’t even touch our cheap-looking brochures,” Porter said.

“Hey, I designed those. They’re not cheap looking,” Sam said.

“Guys, come on,” Mike said. “You still haven’t said anything. I’m a ninja. This is the best costume. … Grant, that leotard is riding up your crack.”

“You would know it’s called a leotard,” Grant said. “And why are you looking at my crack?”

“I’m not,” Mike said. “You’re … whatever you want to call it. It’s disgusting.”

“Dude, your costume doesn’t work,” Grant said.

“Why?”

I tugged off my costumed head. “How does a ninja make you think about weddings? If you approach someone dressed as a ninja, they’ll run away, not take a brochure.”

“And Hello Kitty is better? Hello?”

“He has a point,” Camille said. “It’s like having my Hello Kitty doll talk to me in your voice. Creepy.”

“Right?” Mike said. “Now Elvis. Elvis makes sense.”

Camille smoothed down her pants. “Thank you, Mike. I added some sequins. You can never have enough sequins.”

The boys and I turned back to planning. Camille was the only one who ever took Mike’s side.

“So no high enders?” Dax asked.

“Most of the people staying somewhere nice already have their wedding planned, and it’s at some swanky hotel, not a little chapel,” I said.

“Especially a dive like Cupid’s Dream,” Mike muttered.

Dax plunked off his head and grinned at Mike. “You’d be surprised how many businessmen love Elvis. We’ve had almost a dozen celebrities married at our chapel, you know, and it’s just a different experience—”

Sam held up his hand. “Hey. Daxter. We’re not selling your chapel, we’re selling Holly’s.”

Grant snorted. “The Daxter.”

Porter pounded Dax on the back. “The Daxinator.”

“Daxerea,” Mike said.

I slipped my arm around Dax’s and leaned on his shoulder. Dax had to know that he’d just wiggled a millimeter closer to the inner circle. Insults. Nicknames. By the end of the night they would be giving man hugs and planning summer surfing trips.

“Okay, Porter. You clearly know the market. Where do we go and what do we do?” Dax asked.

We sipped our hot chocolate while we finalized our strategy. We broke up into teams of two, with each team given three hundred flyers and the goal to have a conversation with at least thirty different people. Sam and Camille got the airport, where they’d amp up the lovey dovey for couples fresh off their flights. Porter and Grant took the sidewalk in front of M&M’s World and The World of Coca-Cola, where the skeevies in costumes would take a picture with you for five bucks.

There were also a lot of illegal immigrants there, passing out advertisements for strippers and escorts that could only be described as porn. By the end of the night, the street was
littered with thousands of naked girls. I hoped people didn’t drop our flyers with the nudies.

Mike was banished to Fremont Street.

“Fremont?” Mike whined. “For Fremont, I get forty dollars.”

“They have those good hot dogs over there,” Porter said.

“But all the girls are old and veiny.” Mike hit Porter’s leg with his plastic sword.

I did not ask him to elaborate on the veiny. “Hey, I know you said Bellagio is high end, but since we’re staying outside, Dax and I should work the fountains. Everyone always stops, it’s romantic—”

“Romantic for who?” Sam wiggled his eyebrows. He’s the only person alive I knew who could actually do that. Before, it was cute. Now, I just wanted to shave them.

“Uh, other couples. Are you a three-year-old?” Romantic for me, Sam. I’d had to endure Camille and him making out all over this town. For once, I wanted some Strip-view romance. Because, as I may have mentioned, Dax said he loved me.

Dax reached for the bill. “Hey, I’ll take this. No worries.”

We gaped at Dax. No one had ever, ever picked up the bill, not even at Pepe’s taco stand. We’d split crepes with the expensive hot chocolate, and at ten bucks a pop, it had to be close to seventy. “You don’t need to do that.”

“But I want to.”

“Wow. Thanks, Daxmania,” Porter said.

Dax kissed my cheek. The first time he touched me, I thought my body would explode. And now that those words were
between us, around us, I thought my heart would shatter. But I scooped up my heart and shoved it into a box, a box I could open and analyze later, privately, when I could stare up at my ceiling and count every moment that somehow led up to the perfection of this.

I had always wanted to bring a guy to the Bellagio fountains. The man-made, Strip-side lake dazzled tourists with the fountain show. Unlike most places you saw on TV or movies, Bellagio lived up to the hype. The final scene in
Ocean’s Eleven
was filmed here, meaning George Clooney and Brad Pitt leaned on our same railing. Although in real life they were way too old for me, in that movie, at this place, they were the ultimate Vegas mascots.

Dax and I found a spot and promptly abandoned all hope of passing out flyers. I’d never been one for PDA, but I’d also never dated a boy like Dax. We lodged our costume heads between our feet so we could kiss. Also, to save passing children from horrid Hello Kitty nightmares.

He rubbed my shoulders and grinned down at me. “Bet you bring all your fellas to this spot.”

“I don’t bring ‘fellas’ anywhere.” I nodded to the next pillar over. “And I usually bring them to that spot.
This
spot is new for me.”

He nuzzled my neck. “How many guys have you dated anyway?”

“Like, gone on dates with?”