Shattered Perfection (7 page)
As the steam from the warm shower began to fill the room, I hurriedly undressed and jumped in. The spray across my skin felt heavenly, heating my muscles and loosening them from the long car drive from the city. I rushed through shampooing and conditioning my hair, soaping up my body and doing a quick shave of all my pertinent body parts again. You know, that just in case thing again.
Turning off the water, I wrapped my hair in one of the amazing towels hanging on the rack and my body in one of the luxurious fluffy bathrobes courteously provided by the hotel. It was too steamy in the bathroom for me to dress in there. I’d never get dry, and I had lotions and creams to apply before I got dressed. I didn’t want to be a sticky mess when I attempted to put on the little black dress I’d brought to impress Vance.
I grabbed my bag and walked back into the bedroom. Vance was sitting on the bed, leaning back against the headboard with his legs outstretched in front of him, shoes off, television remote in hand as he flicked through the TV stations. He was the picture of a guy kicking back. All he needed was a beer in his other hand.
“It’s all yours.” My voice cracked a little on the words. “At least until I need it again.”
He looked over at me with a small laugh. “You sure? I can wait until you’re totally done. It really won’t take me long at all.”
“I’m sure. Besides, I need this room to do part of my routine. I can’t do some of it in the bathroom while it’s still humid in there.” I informed him.
“I’m sure it’s some secret lady ritual, so I won’t even bother to ask,” he responded as he stood and picked up his bag. He pointed over his shoulder toward the bathroom. “You know where to find me if you need me.”
“I’m sure I’ll be just fine, but do me a favor and knock before you leave the bathroom just in case I’m not done with my regimen.”
“You mean in case you’re naked.” He wiggled his eyebrows at me as he leaned against the door jamb.
I shot him an evil glare and hefted the bottle of lotion I’d pulled out of my bag as if testing its weight to pitch at him. He held his hands up in surrender and straightened up from the doorway. “Point taken. No need for violence. I’ll knock.” He shut the door behind him with a soft click.
Thirty minutes later, we were in the elevator riding down to meet Pete and Laurel in the lobby. After a brief discussion, we decided to head over to the boardwalk to find a restaurant and do some gambling afterward. We eventually ended up at a steakhouse at Caesar’s. We had a great time, with the conversation flowing easily. Pete was cracking jokes and pretty much keeping us entertained with interesting stories from his job. We particularly enjoyed the story about the stop he made of a conspicuously drunk woman, who just happened to be model beautiful. She threw herself at him, offering him all sorts of sexual favors and baring certain parts of her anatomy, if he would just let her go with a warning. Unfortunately for her, Pete arrested her anyway. At her court hearing, she was much more subdued and far less friendly towards him. No body parts were exposed.
I was also very pleased to see Laurel and Vance hitting it off well. They chatted and teased each other as if they had known each other for years. It made me happy that Vance fit in, since it only solidified in my mind how right we were for each other.
Rather than linger over a few cocktails after our meal, we were all itching to hit the casinos. We decided to stay at Caesar’s for a while to see if Lady Luck was in residence.
“That bit—“ Vance began. I reached up and pressed my fingers to his lips with a cautioning glare. “I mean that beautiful lady…” he started again, looking to me for approval. I nodded and he continued, “—is traveling with us, so it doesn’t matter where Mimi and I go to gamble. You and Laurel are on your own, Pete,” he said with a chuckle.
Pete gave him a wry grin. “We’ll just see about that, buddy. I’ll wager with you right now. It’s ten o’clock. We’ll meet you back here in the lobby at two, and we’ll compare winnings. We’ll just see who Lady Luck is with tonight.”
“Oh this is a bet I can’t lose,” Vance said, slinging an arm over my shoulders and sticking his other hand out to shake. “This woman is luck personified, sucker.”
Pete tossed his arm around Laurel and pulled her in close. “Heh, that’s only because she’s been spending time with this one.” He kissed her cheek before shaking Vance’s hand firmly. Laurel and I simply rolled our eyes and mouthed the word “Boys” to each other. Pete steered her away from us and they wandered off to parts unknown, presumably to win a fortune and then rub our noses in it.
Vance and I strolled past numerous gaming tables, blackjack, roulette, and craps. We stood for a while watching each game, enjoying the energy of the players as their excitement of playing the odds infected those around them. Every now and then, Vance would look at me questioningly to see if I wanted to play, but I’d just shake my head and we’d move on. I was too intimidated by the tables. I was much more the kind of person to park myself in front of a poker machine with a cocktail and feed bills into it all night long. I didn’t like the pressure of playing with other people. Even though blackjack is arguably still a solitary game between you and the dealer, you can piss off the guy next to you if you hit when he thinks you should have stayed and you take the card that would have made his hand. I’d seen it before and it’s not pretty. So I was content to stick with a machine that was happy to take my money and never judged my choices. It was a beautiful relationship, really.
I shared my preferences with Vance, so he led me to the slot machines. We found an area with twenty-five cent machines, which was just about my speed. I chose one on the end of the row, explaining that seat placement was everything.
“Sitting in the middle of the row is unlucky.” I informed him. “Everyone likes the end seats, so these are the machines that are more highly played, thus making them bloated with money and just waiting to pay off.”
Vance asked, “Doesn’t it also stand to reason that they may have paid off recently before we came over? There’s no way to know.”
I stroked my machine, cooing softly to it. “You wouldn’t do that to me, would you baby? You have been sitting here waiting for me all this time, haven’t you, your big jackpot belly just waiting to spew its guts into my waiting hands?” I looked at Vance with a raised eyebrow as if daring him to challenge my statement. He looked simultaneously amused and disturbed by my display with the machine.
I shrugged and fed a twenty into the machine, hitting the “Bet Max” button. I was dealt a natural straight. I looked over at Vance with a smug look on my face. Pushing all of the hold buttons, I collected my winning credits and pressed “Deal”. We spent an hour playing and ordering free cocktails from the roving waitress, as my credit tally slowly climbed higher. I heard Vance alternately curse and cheer from the seat next to me. At the end of the hour, we turned to each other and compared our balances. Vance was up a whopping ten dollars, while I had collected an additional one hundred and fifty, over our initial investment of twenty dollars. I figured that wasn’t too bad considering it was easy to keep feeding money into the machine and lose track of where you started altogether.
Vance let me know he needed a few minutes to get up and stretch, but admitted what he really wanted was to hit the craps table. I figured I should quit while I was ahead, at least for the night. I wanted to do my part to help Vance win his bet with Pete, and any more time in front of the machines might undo all the progress I’d made. I’d spent enough time in front of them to know how your luck can turn on a dime and your credit balance can be depleted in a matter of minutes.
We headed over to the tables, and Vance stopped at one that seemed particularly lively. I had no idea what was going on, all I knew was some guy at one end of the table would roll some dice, people would shout and everybody either cheered or groaned when the dice stopped. Chips would go back and forth, and then the process started all over again. I didn’t get it, but everyone seemed to be really enjoying themselves.
Vance pulled out a few bills out of his wallet and put them on the table. This confused me since everyone else seemed to be playing with chips, but I watched in silence. A waitress came by asking for drink orders, so I took advantage and ordered a dirty martini for me, and a glass of scotch for Vance. I turned back, and Vance mysteriously had a tray of chips in front of him. I watched as dice were rolled, more people cheered, a guy with a stick thingy moved chips around on the table, which I assumed meant people lost when he scraped them toward himself.
Our drinks eventually arrived, and I was grateful because by this time I was getting fidgety from boredom. The table had calmed down from the raucous tone it had when we first walked up.
Vance thanked me for his scotch, studying me briefly as he took a sip. “You’re bored out of your mind, aren’t you?” he asked.
I sighed unhappily. “I’m sorry, but yes. I don’t understand a thing that’s going on, and everyone seems to have lost their enthusiasm for the game, so it’s not even entertaining to watch anymore. I’m sorry if I’m spoiling it for you.”
“You could never spoil anything for me. Let me see if I can try to make some sense of this for you. That guy with the dice at the end of the table? He’s the ‘shooter’. He has to roll a seven or eleven on his first roll. If he rolls a two, three or twelve, he’s ‘crapped out’. If he hits any other number, that becomes ‘the point’. If the shooter rolls the point number, that’s a win, but if he rolls a seven, he loses. Meanwhile, everyone else at the table, like you and me, can place bets on whether or not he is going to roll the point or another number. There is a little more to it, but that’s the basic gist.” He looked at me closely, and I was sure my eyes were glazed over, because even with that short and sweet summary, I still didn’t really understand it and to be perfectly honest, I didn’t much care.
“You still don’t understand, do you?” he asked.
“I think I have a mental block when it comes to with anything that has the word ‘crap’ in its title.” I said dryly. “Would you be upset if I went over to those slots just over there and amused myself while you play here?” I asked, pointing to a bank of machines just beyond the tables with big wheels overhead, garish flashing neon and a progressive jackpot sign rapidly racking up figures as we looked on.
Vance smiled sympathetically and shook his head. “Not if you give me a kiss for good luck before you go.”
“Place your bet and pucker up, hot stuff, because you’re about to get very, very lucky.” I purred, giving him a scorching look.
He pulled me close and whispered in my ear, “Careful now, precious. There’s only so much luck a man can take in a public place.”
I laughed out loud before taking his face in both my hands and pulling him toward me. I exhaled softly, letting my breath fan over his lips before gently rubbing my lower lip against his. I nuzzled against him once, twice before trailing my tongue along the seam of his mouth, requesting entry. His lips slowly parted, allowing me in, and I licked delicately against his tongue, moving in a tender dance of sweet promise. I didn’t linger too long, only enough time to leave him wanting, before pulling away. I gave him my best beguiling smile and whispered, “Win big, Daddy. Baby needs new shoes.”
He laughed as he reached into his coat pocket for his wallet. “Crazy dame. Do you need any money?” He asked, pulling out a few bills and stuffing them into the neckline of my dress even as I shook my head no. He just grinned, turned me in the direction of the slot machines and patted me on the ass.
About half an hour later, I was sitting at one of the dollar machines, (Vance had stuffed five hundred dollars in my bra; I figured it was his money, why not go big?), and sipping my fourth dirty martini. It was a neat little machine, one where if you got the symbol of a wheel anywhere in the reel, you got a free spin of the big wheel at the top of the machine. It was an instant win if you got that spin, of whatever dollar figure you landed on the big wheel. If you landed on the progressive line, then you won the jackpot.
I wasn’t paying too much attention, because hey, fourth martini, when the wheel symbol popped up in my pay line. I pushed the bonus spin button and took another sip of my drink, looking around the machine to see if I could get a glimpse of Vance at the craps table. I could just barely make out the top of his head, as the table seemed to have gotten very lively again, with lots of cheers and waving arms obscuring my view of him.
A shrill ringing and a flash of lights, followed by a scream from the woman next to me, caused me to jump and spill my drink all over the front of my dress. I turned back to my machine to see what all the fuss was about, when the lady grabbed my arm and yelled directly in my ear.
“Ohmigod, girl! You just won the jackpot!” I blinked twice at her as I stuck my finger in my ear in an attempt to restore my hearing. Looking forward, I realized that, yep, that was indeed my machine that was about to cause someone an epileptic seizure. My eyes immediately looked to the progressive jackpot screen which appeared to be frozen. Did it say what I thought it said? Ten thousand, two hundred thirty-two dollars and fifty-three cents. How the hell did one get fifty-three cents on a dollar machine?
I turned to the very nice, forty-something lady next to me again. She fit every stereotype I had ever heard about Jersey women. She had black hair sprayed up-to-there, a ton of make up on, red fingernails so long they could be described as talons and a skirt so short, it could probably have doubled as a belt. When she spoke, however, there was no trace of an accent. She was probably from Boise.
