Taming Vegas (3 page)

I glance around at the lack of decorations in here and vow
to get a painting somewhere. This place lacks personality, but like I said,
mixing business and pleasure can be dangerous. I have a phone call to make to
Hector, but I’m putting it off as long as I can. He doesn’t pose much of a
threat to me in this moment. If his boss come calling, then I might actually
worry a little before I took action.

I login to the bank accounts for my business and shuffle money
around to allow employees to order new supplies for this weekend, and then I do
the accounting. Two years ago I took quite a few accounting classes so that I
would understand the complications of this business. I still have a company
that takes care of the taxes, but I’m educated enough that they have to keep me
in the loop, and I understand what they’re doing.

It takes me three hours to take care of business, and then I
start going through the VIP list for this weekend. Most of them are new
celebrities looking for a fresh place to have parties. I have to be careful of
whom books one. Politics amongst celebrities can be almost as bad as the
politics between world governments. If things are not taken care of with
finesse then wars might break out, and I don’t want my club’s name mentioned in
them.

Other business owners might pit celebrities against one
another to get any type of public relations, but I’m not desperate. Besides, I
prefer my women to have their eyes not scratched out. Clearing my throat as I
work, my ears prick when I hear the elevator bell ding. There are only a few
people who have the pass code to this floor, yet I’m always on alert when I don’t
get a call first. As soon as I see the tight, leather pants and the white,
button up shirt I relax.

Anna’s platinum blonde pixie haircut has always attracted my
attention because it frees the perfect features of her face. I’ve made a rule
against sleeping with employees, and I’m pretty sure that she’s not interested.
Her stilettos are quiet as she crosses the sea of carpet towards my desk. Instead
of sitting down on one of the chairs for guests, she sits down on the corner of
the mahogany top and crosses her arms over her average chest.

I see an argument in her eyes before she even begins to
speak.

“Do you know what time it is?” She asks me strongly. I can
admire a strong woman as much as I can admire a shy woman, but Anna gives the
air that if she doesn’t get her way she’ll take heads off. I need a woman like
that running the bar so that no one gives her shit.

“It’s close to your two year anniversary here.” I lean back
in the chair and cross my arms over my chest as I study her. When she starts to
bristle, I give her a quick wink and lean forward as I start to open up
documents on the laptop.

“I know that you usually don’t give bonuses, Alex, but my
son’s school is asking for their money. I don’t mind if you don’t give me a
raise this year, but I was hoping that you could foot me some money early.” I
click through the revenue from the bar and put two fingers to my lips as I
start calculating. Anna is one of three bartenders, and she’s my most
profitable. It’s not by much over the others, but she works the day shift, and
that makes an immense difference.

“Who’s manning your station while you’re up here?” It’s just
an idle question, but she takes it as an insult immediately. Sometimes I feel
as if I’m dealing with one of my sisters.

“It’s my break, and Steven is running the bar!” Her huff of
indignation makes me smile, and I glance at her as I think over the offer. There
indubitably isn’t that much to think about considering it’s Anna.

“Don’t get all uppity with me, Anna! I was just asking a
simple question to fill the air with words. It wasn’t meant to piss you off.”
Her gaze wanders to the view from the windows, and she relaxes a little. I
decide I’d better get back to her with my answer soon, or she’ll try to beat it
out of me. I’ve had enough of baseball bats for today. “You’ve made one hell of
a profit this year for this place, Anna. I’m surprised you didn’t come to me earlier.
It’s only a month early, so I’ll front you a raise of fifteen dollars and get
back to me with the amount you need for your son’s school. He’s in that fancy
school for gifted kids, right?”

“Yeah, he’s doing real great there. I can’t believe he’s actually
making friends for once in his life. If he had to go back to public school, it
would be finished. He’d clam up again and never speak to me.” I nod with
understanding. Anna’s kid has autism, but he’s one of the kids with autism that
has an IQ of over one hundred and seventy.

“How much, Anna?” Now she looks a little defensive, but I
put up my hands in surrender and lean back. “I just want to help, alright? You won’t
owe me anything. We need more kids like yours in this world. He has some real
potential.” With pursed lips, she tells me the amount.

“I need ten thousand dollars to cover his tuition for this
quarter.” I don’t flinch at the number and pull out my personal checks from my
drawer. She sees which ones I’m using, and I hear her sharp inhale, but she doesn’t
argue with me. I’d rather pay this out of pocket than have it come from the
business right now. Besides, I take quite enough to pay for her kid’s tuition
for the rest of his lifetime.

“Tell him he’d better get good grades.” I hand over the check,
and she stares at it for a few minutes as she works her bottom lip. I smile
because I know that thank you’s are very hard for Anna to hand out.

“Thanks,” She tells me quietly as she slides off the desk
and starts to walk away with the check still in both her hands. Then she turns
around with one hand on her hip and narrows her eyes as she looks at me. I
narrow my own back as I stare at the violet contacts. Sometimes I idly wonder
what color her eyes truly are underneath.

“Are you sure this isn’t some type of personal debt?” She
asks me suspiciously. I shake my head at her and close the laptop lid.

“No, Anna. You do one hell of a job here, and I value your
work ethic. If you ever need anything else, don’t hesitate to come ask me,
alright?” She nods once slowly as she looks back down at the check. I watch her
turn around in the elevator at the last second and to my shock there are tears
shimmering in her pretty eyes. I had no idea keeping her son in that school
meant so much to her. I’m going to have to make an effort to get to know my
employees a little better.

The door closes, and I’m left along in the sky high office
with only one thing left to do. Hector answers on the fourth ring as if he
already knows whom it is, and I smile into the phone as I look down at my desk.
My fingers idly play with a pen cap as I listen to him starting to go off
without me even having to answer.

“You hijo de la verga! You’re cuero bartenders are taking
away from my business!” I roll my eyes to the ceiling as I lean back with a
hand behind my head and start in before he can call me anything else insulting
in Spanish.

“Hector, please. Business should never be approached from an
insulting angle unless you want me to retaliate against the threats?” There’s a
pause on the other end, and I realize that I’ve finally grabbed his attention. “Listen,
I understand that your club is not doing as well as it once was, but maybe you
ought to take a look around? The interior is dank and depressing. Your
waitresses lack class, and your bouncers let anyone through the door.” That’s
done it. He starts in again in full Spanish, and I can barely make out the
words that he’s saying.

I wish I had a translator.

“Look, while I appreciate your standpoint on the issue, I am
not closing my doors.” I hang up the phone and sigh as I shake my head. Dealing
with Hector always gives me a headache, but I’m right. If he would renovate his
place and lower his prices, he might be in competition with me. The truth of
the matter is he’s a thug who is a lousy businessman. I’m an ex-thug who
happens to be a decent businessman. That’s the only difference between us.

I stretch in my chair and pace around the office as I try to
come up with a solution that would both Hector and I happy, but I honestly don’t
see one. I’m not going to fork over the cash it would take for him to run his
business, and I’m not going to put up with his cronies coming into my club and
making it uncomfortable for my guests. Unfortunately, the man is in no position
to get out from under the mobster that he’s currently attached to
business-wise. If he stops paying he’ll pay in flesh, and that’s never an advantageous
position.

If I get involved, I’ll be speaking to his boss. No one
wants to deal with Yatzi. Making one deal with him means making a lifetime
commitment to follow his rules, and I don’t like those rules. So I all my hands
to release from behind me and shove them into my trousers as I look down at the
city of Las Vegas as the afternoon starts to roll around.

After I’ve made my decision to have lunch in my own
facility, I step into the elevator and press the button for the ground floor.
The partiers from the night before have most likely all gone to their rooms,
and the club employees should be doing their cleanup rounds. When I get to the
first floor, Sean, the bouncer, gives me an actual smile as he acknowledges my
passing.

Feeling as if there is something different about the people
around me, I spot Anna shining the glasses by hand. Narrowing my eyes, I
realize that she must have told Sean, who most likely told everyone via his
headset, about the check. Great, now they’re all going to treat me differently,
and I might need to make a habit out of handing out bonuses occasionally.

Sitting down at the bar, I wait for Anna to get done serving
a woman a mimosa, and she quickly hurries to the kitchen. Without taking an
order, she returns with my usual. I sit up straight with my arms crossed in
front of me at the bar and stare at the plate of mozzarella sticks and mushroom
poppers.

‘“What if I wanted something different today?” I ask her as
she walks past with a glass in her hands. A coy look comes over her face as she
puts a hand on one hip and holds the glass up in the other to emphasize her
words.

“Do you want something else today, boss?” I glance to the
left, and the woman sipping her mimosa gives me a suggestive look. I’m sure I
have quite the reputation lately, but it’s high tourist season, and I’m not
saint.

“No, this is fine.” Realizing that I’ve lost before I’ve
even actually begun, I satisfy myself with a mozzarella stick and survey the
damage done the previous night. Everything looks like it’s in working order,
pretty much.

The phone behind the bar rings loudly in the silence of the
nightclub and Anna doesn’t make it to the line in time. I shrug one shoulder
when she gives me an apologetic look, and think that if it’s necessary, the
person will call back. Sure enough, about fifteen seconds later the phone
begins to ring again. Anna’s hands are full of a rack of dishes, but she
quickly sets them down and answers.

“Obsidian Nightclub, this is Anna speaking, how may I help
you?” She wraps an arm around her middle while she’s on the phone, and glances
in my direction. I see her lips downturn and wonder who might be on the other
line.

“He’s eating lunch right now.” She responds and I glance
down at my plate. When she looks at me again, I point at my chest and mouth the
word ‘me’. Anna nods, but waves her hand as if it’s not relevant. Taking her
word for it, I continue my lunch and glance at the woman with her mimosa again.

“Yes, he’s the owner of the club, and he’s out on lunch.
We’re open twenty four hours a day.” She waits another heartbeat and the look
of suspicion turns into impatience. “I can’t tell you his home address, and no
I will not tell another one of you crazy women what his hours are. If you want
to speak to him, I can direct you to his voicemail.” Now the woman with her
mimosa doesn’t look nearly as interested, and I can’t help the smile blooming
when she picks up her drink to find another spot to sit.

Anna hangs up the phone abruptly, and I can’t help the
chuckle. It was most likely that Sandy woman calling for me because she wants
another go around, or maybe she wants some sort of payment to keep her mouth
shut. I’ve never once claimed that the women I sleep with are all that high on
the moral scale.

“You really have to stop picking winners, Alex. That woman
claims she’s
married
to you!” I almost choke as I snort and laugh with a
mushroom in my mouth. There isn’t one woman I’ve ever married, and I’m pretty
sure I’d know about it.

It’s been one week since Oliver proposed, and it’s been
exactly three minutes since I was hung up on by some crazy woman at the
Obsidian Nightclub. It took me only an hour to figure out that I’m married to a
man named Alexander Pope. Public records in Vegas are not that hard to come
upon, and I’m desperate to get this divorce finalized.

I know it’s only been seven days since Oliver popped the
question to me in front of his friends and family, sending me into a fit of uh
and ums. But I’ve made up my mind. I am going to marry Oliver Stanton because
he is the best thing that has ever walked into my life, and what if I don’t get
a chance at another man who can provide me stability and happiness?

Who cares about the question of love?
You do.
The
quiet little voice in the back of my head known as my conscious whispers to me,
but I shut her up with another exceptionally large scoop of non-fat Greek
yogurt. My entire life has been about this moment, the moment where I will
marry a man who can get me places I never dreamed.

“Oh God, if only I could snap my fingers and this would all
be done and over with!” I exclaim to Button, my orange tabby. He head butts my
arm and jostles the spoon with my yogurt, which causes a blob to hit the tile
floor of my kitchenette. His accomplice, Shortbread, hurriedly laps up the
yogurt as he glances at me like I’m going to pounce on him.

“You guys are no help.” I mumble as I finish off my late
afternoon snack. “I’m just going to have to go out there and show him the
marriage certificate I found online, and then we’ll have to get a divorce. That’s
all. It’ll be really simple. You’ll see!” Buttons tries again, but the spoon is
empty and Shortbread is left wanting.

“Now I just need to find someone to take care of you three.”
I glance in Aphrodite’s direction, and she just gives me a squinted glare back.
The little, calico mongrel never did like me, but I have a soft spot for
strays. Maybe someday she’ll warm up to me. In the meantime, I’ll have to call
Kyle to see if he’ll house sit for me for a few days.

Doing a balancing act with the yogurt cup in one hand, cats
tangling my legs, and reaching for my phone, I manage to put the dishes where
they belong without dropping the phone. Buttons and Shortbread, my dynamic duo,
play fight when they realize I’m foodless. Now that I’ve been left in peace, I
lean against the granite, kitchen countertop of my high-rise apartment and
stare out the glass windows that overlook New York City. Kyle picks up on the
fourth ring with a sleepy voice.

“Shit, I’m sorry! I forgot you worked third shift last
night. How did it go?” He mumbles something unintelligible, and then I realize he’s
not talking to me anymore. With a blush, I come to the understanding that I’ve
interrupted him during a tryst, and feel like a complete fool for being so
impulsive. Maybe a text would have sufficed.

“Melanie, it’s alright. I was already awake. It went well. I
sold four paintings of my own while I was running the show for another guy. But
he’s not too upset about it.” I hear a chuckle in the background and grin.
Kyle’s one hundred percent gay and the man gets better looking men than I can
find.

“You’re a real salesman and artist, Kyle. Listen, I have a
favor to ask.”

“I’m not killing Oliver for you. I told you if you want to
get rid of that man then you just have to lose the ring.” I roll my eyes to the
ceiling and can’t help the smile that comes over my face even though I know it
shouldn’t be funny.

“Yeah, whatever. Look, I need to visit my folks for a week
or so out in California and I’m leaving tomorrow. I honestly don’t want to
leave the cats here alone. Do you think you could come by and check on them
once a day? Maybe even stay here a few hours? You can even bring your new
friend!” He makes a sighing noise, but I know that Kyle will do it for me. He’s
the closest thing I have to a friend in this city, and the man adores me even
if he’s gay.

“Alright, Melanie, but I thought your parents were coming
here in a few weeks?” I probably shouldn’t have told him that a few days ago at
the coffee shop. I struggle to find something to tell him, but the silence has
already gone on long enough. “Fine, you don’t have to tell me what you’re really
up to. Well, on the other hand, if it’s going to Paris to be a slut for the
last time, then you’d better get pictures!” I can count on him to sound exactly
as though a girlfriend might.

“It’s not Paris, and there will be no pictures because I’m
not going to be a slut!” I hear him cough on the other end and realize that he’s
holding in a laugh, but he’s a gentleman and doesn’t let it out. “Will you
watch them?”

“Sure, sure. Same as last time, right? One can of cat food
twice a day for each of them and clean up the litter boxes. Oh, and do I have
to play that strange video again on the television? They were pretty disturbed
by that.” I giggle at the thought of the poor cats sitting in front of the
television with strange looks on their faces as a woman called to them, and
then the videos of other cats playing outside. It must have been awful for
them, but my mother recommended it.

“No, no more videos. I promise.” Kyle’s friend must be
growing impatient, so I decide that the conversation is almost over. He
confirms he has the keys yet, and I tell him to have a pleasant rest of his
afternoon. With the assurance that he will, we both hang up, and I glance over
at Aphrodite. As if she already knows what is happening, her little nose goes
up in the air as she squints her eyes and I blow her off as I head to my room
to pack.

It’ll be fast and easy.
I tell myself over and over
again, but the truth of the matter is, I’ve always wondered who the man was
that I woke up next to in a strange hotel room. In the past few days, I’ve
learned of his rise to fame as a nightclub owner.

I’m not sure how he acquired the business, but he renovated
the thing within a few months and he’s been making a profit ever since. I can
only imagine what kind of shady, back door deals he’s been through to get that
place and run it in Vegas, but I’m not too worried about that. All I need is
his signature twice in one document. It shouldn’t be that difficult.

I catch myself packing some rather suggestive underwear and
stare down at it for a few seconds, and then I shrug one shoulder. I bought the
things because I thought Oliver would renege on his claim that he wants to
remain pure until marriage, but he never did. That doesn’t mean I can’t wear my
pretty underwear to make myself feel a little more attractive. It’s not as if
I’m thinking about sleeping with someone in Vegas.

“No, not at all.” I tell myself aloud to make sure that it’s
imprinted in my mind that I’m going to be a married woman soon, and there is no
way that I will be sleeping with a  stranger again.

Once my suitcase is packed, and my flight is confirmed, I
sit down on my small couch within the living area of my apartment and stare at
the flat screen television on the wall. It’s not on, and I can’t seem to bring
myself to lean forward and grab the remote. Instead, I pull my electronic
reading device off the glass top coffee table and unzip its case. Diving into a
romance novel always seems to help me keep my mind focused on the fact that I’m
doing the right thing. None of these things ever comes true.

In reality, most women end up marrying a man because he’s an
excellent provider and he’ll make a terrific father. Oliver might be lacking on
the father end, but he’ll at least be able to provide. Besides, neither one of
us wants kids this early in life, nor don’t I think it’s expected of us. At
least, I sincerely hope it’s not.

Now that I’m settled and sitting in one spot, all three of
my feline friends snuggle up against my legs and create a barrier around me.
The next thing I know, I’m waking up with my tablet lying beside me and the
cats are gone. It’s seven thirty in the morning with the sun shining full force
through the glass wall.

My hand comes up to shield my face as I roll to the side in
an attempt to get away from the glaring sun, but now that my eyes have opened,
I’m fully ready to go. I slide off the cushions and grab my tablet as I stomp
back to the bathroom. A large, all-encompassing yawn overtakes me, and I have
to stop and try using a fist to stifle it.

First it’s Aphrodite twining around my legs, and then the other
two are joining in the fun.

“I have to go!” I tell them with frustration, but bend down
to pat each one of them once before I bound off to the bathroom. If I’m not
careful, they’ll be following me. No one wants to get out of a shower to cats
rubbing on their wet legs. It’s not loveable in the least.

My shower is quick and cold to wake myself up, and then I
spend about half an hour trying to make myself presentable in the mirror. My
hair is naturally slightly wavy, so it takes me about fifteen minutes to
straighten it into sleek strands. Then I pat on some concealer just to give
myself a smooth look and layer on the eyeliner. There isn’t much else I can do,
so I pack everything up into a carryon bag and open up the bathroom door to
three feline faces.

“Yes, I know! I’m coming, jeez you guys. If I fed you every
time you begged me, you’d be Java the Hut kitties.” I’ve never understood why
they attempt to trip me while I’m heading to the kitchenette to feed them. Once
all three of them are crouching on the floor with their separate dishes, I grab
my bags and sneak out of the apartment. I send a quick text to Kyle to let him
know that I’m on my way out, and smile when he tells me to have fun.

I still feel a little guilty not telling him exactly where
I’m going and why, but sometimes things need to be kept under wraps. They need
to remain hidden especially if a woman is going to get married to a man that
has some clout in the political and business industry. The guilt I feel is
compartmentalized immediately and pushed to the back burner as I hail a cab.

“The JFK Airport please.” I tell the driver as I check my
purse to make sure that I have the printed boarding pass. The taxi pulls out
into the morning traffic of New York, which is mayhem from block to block. From
my apartment, it takes forty five minutes to get to the airport, but it only
takes me about fifteen minutes to board.

I settle down in the seat near the window and stare at the
tarmac as the plane prepares for takeoff. It takes another half an hour for
everyone to board and the plane to be ready, and then we’re off to Vegas.
Sometime during the flight I take a nap with a pillow and end up leaning my
head on the shoulder of the passenger next to me. He just happens to be a
large, hulking man with dark as night skin and a winning smile. My stomach does
a tiny flip flop when he turns that delicious smile on me, and I hurry from my
seat with embarrassment as soon as we’re able.

As soon as I walk through the revolving, glass doors out to
the streets of Las Vegas, Nevada, I can feel the dry heat surrounding me. There
is always something so different about Vegas than New York and central
California. I’ve heard people say that it’s the dry heat, which can be
dangerous to an unsuspecting tourist due to dehydration, but I think there is
something more to Vegas than just the dry heat. It’s the shimmer of excitement
in the air from all the visitors and knowledge of the casino owners that
they’re going to be getting lucky tonight with more and more gamblers pouring in.

I hail a cab and the driver helps me with my bag. Once I’m
settled, I tell him to take me to the Obsidian Nightclub.