What Stays in Vegas (4 page)

“You sly dog,” I said to Brad,  “directing me to your hotel.” 

It was immediate sensory overload as hotels, flashing lights, and beautiful people began popping up the closer I drove to The Strip.  I stopped at a traffic light and turned up the radio - a mix of sunshine, endorphins, and lack of sleep coursing through my veins.  I spent one of the happiest moments of my life at that traffic light, until I heard Brad struggling to tell me something.  I reluctantly turned down the music. 

“In point two miles, turn right onto Convention Center Drive.” 

“Shit!”  I had been distracted by a billboard telling me how much food I could get for $4.95.  You wouldn’t believe it if I told you.  I cut into the right lane, turned onto Convention Center Drive, and cruised into the driveway of my hotel. 
Piece o' cake.

I would love to tell you that Flamhauser-Geist had reserved me the penthouse suite with private swimming pool, or due to some crazy mix-up my room had been double booked and I would be bunking for three months with Zac Efron, but no such luck.  I checked in at the front desk and was given the keys to a pretty standard suite.  Though by "standard," I mean way nicer than my apartment back home.  Pale yellow walls greeted me as I pushed open the door.  Scented candles were scattered about and the furniture was straight out of Pottery Barn.  I spotted a huge flat screen television through the French doors that separated the living area from the bedroom.

Not bad
, I thought, dropping my bags to the floor.  That was when I noticed the massive quantity of alcohol spread out on the sideboard.  Bottles of Cruzan, Patron, Grey Goose, to name a few, all lined up around an assortment of martini, shot, and champagne glasses.  A vase of yellow and peach roses was placed in the middle of it all. 
Tessa,
said the card.  I plucked it out and read the note. 

Welcome!  Just a little something to get you settled.  See you Monday, Kendra.

Just a little something to get me settled? I looked from bottle to bottle and laughed at the thought of getting plastered all by myself on my very first night in Vegas.  Who did she think I was going to drink all this with?  I opened the refrigerator.  It was devoid of food, but packed with beers.  The clock on the microwave read 11:00 a.m.  Well, if you take into account the time difference, it was technically 2:00 p.m.  And if I was back home at a cook-out or a birthday party or something, I would probably be drinking a beer at 2:00 p.m.

 
Whatever
.

  I cracked one open.  If I had to hang out by myself all weekend I might as well be good company.  I flung myself onto the bed and stared around at my new home away from home.  I was definitely not in the mood for unpacking.  I was, however, in the mood for lounging by the hotel pool.  I got back up and grabbed my carry-on bag.  Inside was my toothbrush, a change of underwear, and the most wonderful green and white polka dot bikini ever created.  If my luggage was lost, every single item in my suitcase could be easily replaced, including the t-shirt that I bought at Woodstock ’94.  That’s what eBay’s for, right?  But this $300.00 bikini was the find of a lifetime, and so I kept it safely in my carry-on bag.  I had found it on my very last day of shopping with Kara and it did the most amazing things for my body.  I did not put it on my expense account, as Kara had suggested, but after seeing the car and the spread of alcohol I have a feeling Kendra may have approved it.

I got changed and stood in front of the full length mirror admiring myself for a few minutes.  I swept my bangs to the side and added a little bit of bronzer to my cheeks.  On second thought I pulled a giant pair of silver hoop earrings from my bag.  I wasn’t exactly swimming relay races here - most likely I wouldn’t even leave the lounge chair. 

"Damn, I look good," I said out loud to myself.  "What a waste."

For a few seconds I entertained the idea of taking some cell phone pictures of myself and sending them to Nick.

"Don't be a psychopath," I said to my reflection.  Then I chugged the rest of my beer and headed for the pool.

***

Two hours and two frozen fruity cocktails later, I lay on my bed, showered and cozy in a hotel bathrobe, flipping through television channels.  It had been
hot
out there and I was a bit redder than my mother would have liked.  Jet lag, sun, and alcohol are an interesting mix.  I was exhausted and burnt, but most definitely happy.  I desperately needed a nap,  but I had a cheeseburger and fries on their way up from room service and, at least for me, hunger tends to beat sleep.  I surfed past home shopping channels, a cartoon moose wearing a detective hat, several games shows, and then -

“A Jarvis Brother’s movie!”  I had never been so delighted.  There was a tiny man crawling around pretending that he was a baby.  I laughed out loud at something I would not have found funny three hours earlier, settled back into the squishy down pillows, and fell asleep.

I spent the rest of my Saturday afternoon unpacking and venturing out to a grocery store so I could fill my fridge with something other than beer.  I was in bed for the night by 9:30 p.m., and I suffered through quite a  few strange dreams.  In one of them I was playing poker with Tooth Model.  I laid down my hand, a royal flush, and then he laid down his.  Except instead of playing cards he was holding pictures of women he said he had slept with.  One of the pictures was of rental desk Gem.  “You slept with Gem?” I asked him.  “We were in the army together,” he replied.  His pictures of women beat my royal flush and he took all my chips.   Except they weren’t chips.  They were sets of false teeth, which made perfect sense.

I woke up bright and early on Sunday with the pleasant realization that I had not a single responsibility until Monday.  I had nothing to clean because I had a maid, and I had nobody to visit because I didn’t know a soul.   I had an entire day to indulge in whatever the heck I felt like.  The tourist information guide in my room informed me that The Forum Shops at Caesar’s Palace had over 160 stores, and it became instantly clear that what I felt like doing was shopping. 

I had the taxi let me off on The Strip rather than the hotel entrance so that I could have a little look around.  The sidewalks were absolutely swarming with people.  Everybody was carrying a beer or a three foot long frozen margarita, stopping to take pictures, and shouting to each other with excitement.  I couldn’t believe that this was actually a city where people lived and worked, and not an amusement park.  I hadn’t walked more than ten feet when I found myself being swept through a pack of men trying to shove what looked like playing cards in my face.  By the time I emerged out the other side I had about ten cards in my hand and looked down to see what they were.

“Oh my God!”  I laughed.  Brooke, Julia, Claire, Melody, Summer, Candy, Ryanne, Christina, Danica, and Alexa.  All prostitutes.  All naked.  They were also all available direct to my hotel room for as little as thirty-five dollars.  I dumped the cards into the nearest trash can.  These things literally covered the sidewalks.  Everywhere I turned, lusty hookers stared up at me from the ground, their living counterparts ready and waiting for my phone call.  I felt pretty sorry for them.  I mean, they could probably get jobs at The Jiggly Kitty if they just applied.  It wasn't the most respectable place on
Earth, but at least the Jiggly Kittens don't have to have sex with anybody.  Well, not with anybody they don't want to.

I kept walking until I finally found an entrance to Caesar’s.  I accidentally entered into the hotel lobby, which forced me to walk through miles of casino before being dumped out into the Forum Shops, where I stopped dead in my tracks.  The Hallelujah chorus echoed in my ears as  upscale store after upscale store stretched out before me.  I looked up to see the coolest ceiling ever.  It was painted to look like blue sky with clouds, and a nearby security guard, who noticed me staring up at it like a hick tourist, informed me that it changed color throughout the day.  By nighttime it would be dark with stars. 
That is exactly what we need at the office,
I thought.

   A huge circular escalator brought me up and down between levels, and before I could even go into a single store, I was distracted by a show starting outside The Cheesecake Factory.  Robotic characters rose up out of a fountain and acted out the story of the fall of Atlantis.  As I stood there watching I couldn't help but think of Nick.  This was the kind of place that you needed to share with somebody and I suddenly felt quite lonely, despite the hundreds of other shoppers around me.  I wished that he was there with me so badly that I took my phone out of my purse to give him a call.  I had one finger on his speed dial button when it started to ring.   

Nick,
read the Caller ID.  A photo I had taken of him at the company's summer cook-out smiled back at me.  Through some sort of cross-country mental telepathy he had sensed that I needed him.  What further sign did I need that this was the man for me?  Curse his happy marriage!

"
Hello?"  I answered.

“What's cookin' good lookin'?” asked my favorite voice in the world.

“I was just thinking about you!”  I said, turning away from the show and taking a seat on a white marble bench.

“Freaky,” he said.  “I was just thinking about
you.
  So how was the flight?  How’s Vegas?  You’re not already dating an Elvis impersonator are you?  I know how you get when you have a few drinks.” 

“I totally am,” I said.  “The only problem is that he’s a
fat
Elvis impersonator.”

“Does that mean he’s also an old Elvis impersonator?” asked Nick. 

“Fat and old, you know how I like my men.”  I laughed. 

“Don’t go making me jealous now," said Nick.  His voice softened a little and I was suddenly reminded of the kiss that he had blown me from his office window.  Had he really just used the word
jealous
?  This was certainly a new development.  In all the years I’d known him, Nick had never once made any indication that he was jealous of me dating other guys.  Even if we were talking about a fat, old, Elvis impersonator. 

“You? Jealous?” I asked, playing along.  “Give me a break.”

“I’m serious,” said Nick.  “You’re hot.  You’re going to have guys all over you out there.  Just be careful, okay?”

Hot?  Since when did Nick find me hot?  My heart was suddenly pounding a mile a minute.  Maybe I should have moved three thousand miles away a long time ago. 

“Okay,
Dad
,” I said.  “I’ll be just fine.  You can’t be jealous anyway, you’re married remember?” 
Remember when you ripped my heart out, fed it through the paper shredder, and then used it as confetti at your wedding reception?

“Don’t remind me,” said Nick.

“Why?  What's going on?"

“Nothing," he said.  "Never mind.  Meg and I are cool.  Now tell me what you’ve really been up to.”

I slumped down on the bench, slightly disappointed, and told him all about Tooth Model, the BMW, and everything else that had happened since my arrival.  I told him that I was out shopping, and then, in a desperate attempt to steer the conversation back toward the romantic, I told him that I missed him.

"It's a little lonely out here right now," I said.  "I just kind of wish that, um, that you were here too.  Or, uh, you know, you or Kara."

"Yeah?" said Nick.  "What would we, or you and Kara, be doing right now?"

"Well, there's a ton of alcohol in my room, so, you know, I think we could maybe figure something out."

Oh God, what was I saying?  Maybe it was the distance that made me feel comfortable talking that way.  Or maybe it was the fact that after so many years of nothing, Nick had finally opened a tiny window of interest and I couldn’t resist seeing where it might lead.  I think that on some level his being married only made my little game safer - knowing that no matter what I said, it could never become a reality.  Well, probably never.

“I bet we could," said Nick.  He cleared his throat.  "You know, I’m really going to miss you tomorrow.  Who am I supposed to complain to at work?”

"Donna Spang?"  I suggested.

"I said complain
to
, not complain
about
."

"Right," I said.  "Well, you still have Kara."

“She's not you.” 

My hands were sweating and shaking so badly that I thought I might actually drop my phone, or swoon like somebody in an old movie. 
Do they sell smelling salts in this place?
  I finally pulled myself together and was about to say something witty when Nick interrupted.

“Uh, hey Tess?”  he said, almost in a whisper.  “I gotta go.  Megan’s coming through the door.”   

“Oh, okay,” I said, the smile falling from my face.  I desperately did not want him to hang up.  “I’ll talk to you soon then.  Say hi to Kara for me.”

“Definitely,” said Nick.  “I, uh, um -”  He seemed to be struggling to find some words.  Unfortunately, they never came.  “Bye, Tess.”

“Bye, Nick.”

I found myself alone again, even more painfully so than before he had called.  And on top of that, I was now totally confused.  Nick was jealous.  Nick wasn’t jealous.  His marriage was messed up.  His marriage was fine.  Why did he need to hang up just because his wife came home?  It’s not like we were having phone sex.  I mean, Megan knew we were friends.