by Amy Brent
“Well,” I managed to eek out between gasps.
“Yes?”
“That was nice.”
He shifted onto his elbow and gave me a wry look. “Just nice? I think I’m hurt.”
“You’re right, it was better than nice,” I said, rolling to face him. “In fact, you’re kind of the best experience I’ve had since I arrived here a couple of weeks ago.”
“Wow, such flattery. Well I’m glad I could oblige.”
He leaned down to kiss me and I tilted my head up to him. It started off chaste, but quickly deepened into more.
I could feel my body revving right back up, but just when I felt that we were about to go somewhere with it, there was a sharp knock at the door.
“Who in the hell...?” James asked, looking over my shoulder. The knock sounded again, so he rolled out of bed. “I’ll be back in a minute.”
Grabbing a silk robe that was hanging in the closet, courtesy of the hotel, no doubt, he headed out into the main room. I followed suit, although I was wrapped in a blanket and I tried to hide myself behind the bedroom door while still being able to see out.
James opened the door, shoulders squared like he was about to tell someone off, but then we both saw it was room service.
“Thank you so much for your patience!” They uniformed worker said, holding up a tray with a large, crystal champagne bottle and a beautiful bowl full of the prettiest strawberries I had ever seen. “Everything has been taken care of, so if you need anything else, just let us know!”
“Thanks, I will.” I heard James say. “By the way, I noticed you’re missing a mini-bar in here. I’d be nice if I didn’t have to call down every time I wanted a different drink.
“Ah, a common misconception, sir. The large, japan-inspired wardrobe against the back wall in the living room actually folds out into your own personal bar. I’d be happy to show you, if you need.”
James held up a hand. “Now that I know, I’m sure I can figure it out for myself. Thank you.”
“No problem sir, is there anything else I can do for you?”
“Nope, thank you.”
“Of course, happy to make your night have a little bit of magic.”
James shut the door and turned back to me, the tray in hand. Raising an eyebrow, his grin grew once more. “Is it too late for a little bubbly.”
“Oh sir,” I said, dropping the blanket and advancing on him. “It’s never too late for that.”
Chapter Six
~James~
Ow.
Ow.
I couldn’t quite figure out what I was thinking, or what was going on, but the one thing I was absolutely certain of was that everything hurt. Even thinking seemed to be a trial, my thoughts sloshing like lazy and incomprehensible waves across the landscape of my mind.
If I wanted to figure anything out, I supposed I needed to open my eyes. Groaning, I tried to do so, but my lids felt like they weighed about a million pounds a piece and that they had been glued shut with some sort of super adhesive.
I groaned, but the sound made my brain reverberate in my skull like it had been banged against a gong. Right. So, sound wasn’t a good thing right now. Right.
Consciousness came to me in waves, but the more I woke up, the more pain I was in. Displeasures revealed themselves one after the other in a cruel march that seemed to love me suffer.
First was that my tongue was like pure cotton, puffy, dry, itchy and tasting terrible. Next was that there was a rumbling in my gut that was telling me that I needed to go to the bathroom quite urgently. And then after that was a sort of swollen, heatedness to my hands that made them hard to move.
I needed water.
It took a whole lot of willpower, but I managed to sit up. My head swam and I almost barfed, but I managed to calm down after a full minute of just sitting there with my eyes closed.
Once that roller coaster of an experience was over, I stumbled to the bathroom, each of my legs feeling like they had their own ball and chains, before finally making it to the sink.
I splashed water into my face, and that helped unseal my eyes while also cooling the intense fire burning just under my skin. One I could see again, I used one of the mini plastic cups to get some of that delicious liquid into my mouth.
God, that really did help me feel better. Sure, my head was still pounding, my stomach was still roiling, and my guts were complaining loudly. Fumbling around, I found there was complementary headache meds in the medicine cabinet, which I grabbed and downed eagerly.
I took a deep breath, the world starting to calm down and stop acting like a carnival was spinning around my head. The next thing on the list was to get the taste of hungover death out of my mouth.
More shuffling around and I found a complementary toothbrush as well as toothpaste. God, I loved the presidential suite amenities.
I fumbled through the motions until finally I had the blessed relief of minty refreshment on my tongue. It seemed to wake me up a bit, and I looked in the mirror to take inventory of the damage.
Man, I looked like I had been through hell and back. There were deep circles under my eyes, my hair looked like I stuck a fork in a socket and-
Why was there a ring on my finger?!
I stopped mid-brushstroke, the whole world careening to a stop as my brain tried to translate what was going on. But what was going on was that there was a bright, gold band on my wedding finger, when -as far as I knew- I was decidedly single and had never seen it before.
What the hell had happened last night!?
I hurriedly spat into the sink, using the rest of my water in my cup, to rush into the bedroom. Last night, I had had a woman come over, right? She wasn’t a coworker, was she?
…no. I think I met her in the lobby. But she was nowhere in sight. Maybe she had gone to some other part of the suite?
I rushed out, heart pounding, but there was no one there. Just my clothes scattered around my room, and my phone on the floor.
My phone!
I raced over and grabbed it, hoping it would have some sort of indication of what the hell had happened, but when I turned it over, I saw that the screen was shattered to the point where it was unusable.
“Shit!” I cried, trying to recall anything that I could.
What was the last thing I remembered? Almost all of it was a blur. A happy blur up until this point, but a blur nonetheless.
Let’s see… I had met a woman down in the lobby. Pretty, funny. I had brought her up here and we’d had some pretty damn good first-time sex. Then… then what had happened? She didn’t leave…did she? No. I remembered there was more, and I had the distinct impression that we went more than once.
I sat down on the couch, closing my eyes. Suddenly the scene between the two of us played in my head last night, helping to relieve a little bit of my panic.
But not enough. Pushing harder, I tried to pick up the pieces of my scattered thoughts.
The champagne was almost gone. While I was slightly tipsy, Nicole was obviously getting to that transition point between buzzed and outright drunk. But she seemed like she was having such an amazing time, that I wanted to as well.
My memory went fuzzy for a minute, but then she was in the pool, naked, while I fed the last of the strawberries to her once by one.
She said something else. What was it? She was still thirsty? That seemed to make sense, because then the both of us were walking to the wardrobe that room service had told us about.
I opened it, and sure enough, a part of it came folding down. After a few more panels shifted and realigned, we were indeed greeted by a beautiful mini-bar that wasn’t so mini.
I reached for a bottle, picked it up, then popped off the top. Nicole -that was her name, right?- opened her mouth and I poured a generous amount in before taking my own gulp.
Things grew fuzzier from there, swirling around each other in a kaleidoscope of colors, creating only jumbled fragments of pictures instead of outright scenes. Only snippets
of sensations reached me. Cool air on my face, cars honking, cheesy music playing, soft lips on mine. Alcohol. Silk. Lace. All of them coalesced together and I was able to guess at least part of what had happened.
Opening my eyes, I stared at the empty suite for a minute. “I just got married in Vegas.”
Saying that aloud seemed to jolt something in me, and I jumped to my feet, only to be knocked right back onto my butt by nausea. But that was alright. I would get some more water into me, go to the bathroom, let the pain medicines kick in, and then get goddamned divorced.
But in order to do that, I guessed I needed to know who the hell I was married to!
Chapter Seven
~Nicole~
Normally I was a bit of a morning person. I woke up without trouble, rarely ever snoozing my alarm clock, and making sure I had plenty of time before work to get a solid meal in. But now, as consciousness stomped over me like a steamroller, I did not feel like a morning person at all.
My head was swirling like it had been stuck in a toilet while being repeatedly flushed, and speaking of toilets, I felt like I needed to both ralph and use it for other purposes. But what beat out all of those sensations was the violent and intense need I had for water.
I opened my eyes and was nearly blinded by what I was guessing was the noonday sun. Wait… last I remembered it was just after eleven. How was it the next day already?
I didn’t know, but I managed to get onto my hands and knees before crawling to the tiny kitchenette of the hostel. None of my roommates were home. Had they already headed out for the day? Normally I was the second one to leave and arrive; I’d never had the space to myself.
It wasn’t until I greedily drank water straight from the faucet that I realized I shouldn’t even be at my hostel at all.
…what had happened to the hotel?
That’s where I had been… right? I had met a guy, a tall, handsome, charming guy and proceeded to have the best sex of my entire life. That was about the last thing that I remembered, so what happened after that?
I had absolutely no idea.
Fighting to my feet, I looked in the mirror above the sink. Yowch. I had definitely been put through the ringer. Still, it was nothing that a little sleep and a whole lot of hydration wouldn’t fix.
…and maybe a shower.
I chuckled lightly at that, brushing my hair out of my face. But as I did, I couldn’t help but notice a sparkle on my hand.
“Wait, what?”
Putting my hand in front of my face a strangled sort of gasp/scream escaped my mouth. Sitting on my finger, covered in beautiful, sparkling diamonds, was none other than a gaudy wedding band.
“Oh god.” I whispered.
What had happened last night? I remembered having sex, and running around his massive room like an idiot, but that was it. Did we even use protection?!
My breath started to come in quick pants. While I had been on pills before I had moved, I’d run out and I didn’t have a primary doctor set up in Vegas yet. Oh god, what if I…
No. I would go to the corner store and pick up some plan B and that would be that. It wasn’t like I would ever see that man again anyways. What was his name? It had been something fairly white bread, but classic. In an understated sort of way.
Josh? No, too common. Jake? No, not that either. Jim? Way too informal for someone like hi- Wait! That was it, James!
Now I remembered. And I recalled once that the receptionist had said his name, but I couldn’t recall for the life of me what his last name was.
What was I going to do? Obviously, we had somehow gotten black out drunk and had done the Vegas thing to get married. I had always heard fables about it, but I didn’t think that was something that you could actually do or that anyone would allow. And yet, there was a ring on my finger that would probably pay a couple months of bills.
I got dressed hurriedly and went to walk to the corner store, my fear compelling me quickly. But before I could even reach there, the more logical side stopped me.
Did I want to take that pill?
Of course, I did! I was a twenty-three-year-old irresponsible kid. I wasn’t ready for a child! A baby needed love and support and not a stupid mother who got drunk and hitched in the city of sin. I wasn’t going to be good enough to provide for the life, not to mention that I would be doing it on my own. I didn’t even know what state James was from, let alone his last name or what his business was.
But that was all fear and insecurity talking. When I tucked those away, and looked beyond that, the question still remained: did I want to take that pill?
No. While I was totally about available birth control and Plan B being available for accidents, I knew that if there was indeed a life growing inside of me against all of the odds stacked against it, that I wanted to keep it.
That revelation hit me like a MAC truck and I doubled over, crying my eyes out. It was equal parts fear, relief and anger, all of them coalescing into some sort of hyper emotional soup.
I don’t know how long I crouched there in the hall of the hostel, weeping like it was going out of style, but eventually the sobs stilled, and the logical side of my brain kicked in.
If I was going to take this gamble, I needed to treat my body better, just in case, which meant I needed some water.
And maybe a slice of bread.
Heading to the kitchen, I grabbed what I needed then made my way back to my room. I supposed I was still in a bit of shock, my brain trying to keep up with the decision my heart had made. I sat there for a long time, sipping my drink and nibbling at some crackers that had been in the communal snack bin, before I came to another conclusion.
If I was going to be a single mother, Vegas was not the place for me. I needed somewhere with more education resources, help programs, and less extreme temperatures.
“Then you know what you have to do,” I told myself, getting to my feet and gathering my meager surroundings.
It didn’t take long to have everything packed. It felt almost surreal putting everything away, but I knew what had to be done. And even if I wasn’t pregnant and I was over reacting to everything, I still needed to go somewhere with better job opportunities. Vegas had, unfortunately, been a bust for me.
Checking my phone, I looked at the cheapest bus tickets and where they would go. After a little bit of research on the cities that were available, I headed to the front desk to check out with the hostel-mother.
I had started over once before, I could do it again. But last time, I hadn’t been nearly so terrified.
Chapter Eight
~James~
I got into my office at work and checked my email, doing it out of habit more than actually looking for a response. It had been three and a half months since that fateful weekend in Vegas and I still hadn’t found the mystery woman who I was married to.
At first, I had thought that maybe this was all some big scam and she was going to message me with a sort of ransom demand for our divorce, so I had waited for the shoe to drop while I went back home and went about my business, cursing myself for my own stupidity for being so easily snowed.
But then the days started to pass, then weeks, until I realized that obviously wasn’t the case at all. For whatever reason, the girl had run.
I couldn’t piece together why though, unless she had no idea we were married. I had done a lot of investigating on my own, and my credit card statement showed that I had spent thirty grand on a pair of matching wedding bands from a jewelry store in Vegas.
The PI team had descended on that place, of course, looking for anything that would give them details about my wannabe Cinderella, but there was nothing. We had security footage, sure, but she didn’t sign anything or buy anything, so that ended up being a dead end.
For a month or so I had been very frustrated, wanting to end my marriage as soon as possible and hating every moment that it was out of my control. I hired a lawyer and asked him to get the divorce started without her. He said without our marriag
e certificate to find her identity, he couldn’t do much of anything, so then the PIs went scouring through all of Vegas and every single chapel to see what they could do.
There was an unfortunately large number of them, however, and all of them had ridiculous requirements to get reissues of the marriage licenses, so that was taking its sweet time too.
Honestly, it was seeming pretty hopeless, so I more or less had tucked it into the back of my mind. Sure, I checked certain things out of habit, but there was no active hope in any of my conduct.
So that was why I was so surprised to see an urgent email sitting there from the team.
We got a hit on your ring at a pawn shop. The report is attached.
I never downloaded a document so quickly. Seconds later, I had it open and I was reading it as fast as humanly possible.
Apparently, it was pawned off in St. Louis about two weeks ago. The information she gave on the pawn sheet didn’t have an address, but it did have her work information and a cellphone number.
I thought about calling it instantly, but what if that made her spook again? I needed to talk to her and get her to sign the court documents before she slipped into the wind again. While St. Louis was a good distance away from me, I could make it in a short flight.
