Exquisitely Hidden: A Sin City Tale

by M. Jay Granberry

  Damn. I don’t want him to be right, but the truth to his words hit me. “I knew what she was. Hope didn’t burn eternal.”

  Seth moves to sit next to me, his back against the headboard. He crosses his arms over his broad chest. Our skin touches as we sit close to one another.

  He’s smooth and warm and very much alive.

  The silent comfort of his touch is enough to wreck me.

  Hold it together. Man up and pull your shit together.

  I’m trying.

  I’m trying so hard, but I can feel myself unraveling, one memory, one pain at time, and if he pulls the string with his well-meaning concern, I’ll fall apart. There’s no telling what he’ll find underneath those loose threads and knots.

  I scoot over, giving myself space, but Seth has other ideas; he follows me, once again bringing our bodies into contact. He grabs my hand and, dammit, the emotion that I shouldn’t feel gushes out of me.

  It’s emotion pouring from my heart in molten waves that drown me from the inside in fire and fucking brimstone.

  “I’m not . . . sad. Not in the way I should be, anyway,” I choke past the self-disgust. “A normal person would be, but this?” I move my hand in a circle above my head. “Is her parting shot, a grand and final fuck-you. It’s like she’s saying ‘Hey, Adam, I finally let the drugs I cared about more than you take everything, even my life. Even with death you’ll be stuck cleaning up my mess. And I’m so . . .”

  Seth’s fingers tighten around mine. His eyes are still trained on the wall in front of the bed; he’s giving me space without leaving me alone.

  “I don’t care what everyone else would do. I’m not here for everyone else, I’m here for you. I. Got. You. You wanna dance on her grave at midnight and scorch the earth? I’ll hand you the lighter fluid. You wanna cry, baby? I’ll wipe your tears. You don’t have to explain it to me because I’m here either way.”

  And for the rest of the weekend he never waivers, never falters, and never leaves me alone.

  Me: Band meeting. My room. NOW!

  Sin: Y the shouty caps. U ok?

  Dan: Do I look like your beck n call bitch? Where the manners?

  Me: Just get over here, pls. Happy, Miss Manners?

  Miles: No, I’m ’bout to get knee deep in that virtual pussy. I’ve been reading Kisha that book Dan was talking about and goddamn she blows like a fucking geyser.

  Sin: Dead puppies, Dead puppies, Dead puppies. There, I think that replaced the image of you and Kish having Skype sex. Ewww ☹

  Miles: Don’t knock it til u’ve tried it.

  Dan: Oh I’ve tried it, brah, and it doesn’t come anywhere close to diving into a slippery, wet pussy.

  Miles: REAL talk! Tell Kisha that shit. Maybe if she hears it from you, she’ll believe I need her with me on tour.

  Sin: Y me? All I want is 1 day where I don’t hear about slippery pussy and dick measuring.

  Dan: Lies! That’s the only thing you read about.

  Sin: God, would you stop talking about that.

  Sin: And Kisha is NOT taking anything seriously coming from D.

  Dan: Ace and eleven, Sin. Both middle fingers right there for you.

  Sin: Don’t be salty.

  Me: Lady and gents, this is serious. I need u. The sooner the better.

  Sin: B there in 2.

  Dan: Here I come to save the day.

  Miles: On my way.

  Nervously, I glance at my phone and pace the room. Seth stops me midstep by placing his hands on my shoulders. “You sure you don’t want me to stay?” he asks, and I see the worry that hasn’t left his gaze since I told him my mom OD’d.

  No. “Yes.”

  The band is my family. They won’t leave me hanging, not in this.

  “I’ll be right next door,” he says tightly and places a stinging kiss on my lips. He squeezes my shoulders a couple of times before he opens the door that adjoins our two rooms mere minutes before my bandmates arrive.

  I look into the faces of my closest friends. Sin is huddled in a sweatshirt two sizes too big. She’s gathered her natural hair into a big puff on top of her head that makes her look more like the girl I met at fourteen than the woman she is at twenty-nine. Miles is perched in a chair, his deep brown skin a striking contrast to the powder blue polo shirt he wears.

  “The suspense is killing me.” Dan flops on the sofa, his long, dark hair and even longer limbs sprawled across the surface.

  “So, I got a call a couple of days ago.” I start pacing much like I did before when Seth was with me. Bed. Window. Sofa. Bed. Window. Sofa. The pattern of steps, the action of walking makes my words flow easier. “My mom, she ah . . .” My steps falter for a second before I say, “OD’d.”

  They each stare at me in varying stages of upset. No shock because none of us is shocked heroin finally did her in.

  “Damn, man. That’s fucked. You need to head home?” Dan sits up. All traces of humor melt from his face. “I can have my momma go to the hospital, so she has somebody there until . . .”

  I shake my head back. “She didn’t . . . she didn’t make it this time.” The words settle heavy and weighted between us. I don’t know who moves first, but when I look up Sin is plastered to my chest, her arms around my waist. Dan is on my right side and Miles on my left. They envelop me in a group hug and the devastation of that phone call comes rushing back to the surface. The knowledge that the sick patterns my mother started with me have repeated themselves with my sister. That the sister I don’t know, but already love, is subject to the same defunct system that did a piss-poor job of saving me. Tears clog my throat and burn my nose. I might not even get there in time to help her.

  “I’m so sorry, Adam,” Sin whispers.

  “What she said,” Dan repeats.

  “There’s more to it, guys.” Their arms drop away, but they still crowd my space. “I have a three-year-old sister who is in foster care right now, but if I can get to Vegas the social worker thinks I can get custody. Even with the travel schedule, and the fact that I’m unmarried.”

  My eyes immediately drop to Sin’s, begging her without words to understand.

  “You guys know we’ve been offered a couple of residencies in Vegas. One just came through from this new joint called The Hotel. They want two weekends a month for fifty-two weeks and, in return, we get sixteen million dollars with the option to renew at the end of the contract.”

  “Shit.” The whispered expletive comes from Sin. For her, Vegas is ground zero, the place where the bomb of infidelity and lies exploded, irrevocably changing the landscape of her life. My mom’s death and my sister placed in foster care just changed mine, and I need her with me.

  “They’re just feeling us out right now. We can give them a tentative yes, but nothing is final until we sign the contracts.”

  “I say let’s do it,” Miles murmurs. “Kisha just told me she’s pregnant. I would love to be back home twenty-four seven and you know we’ll both help out where we can.” Dark eyes move around our little group.

  Dan nods in response to Miles, clearing his throat before he says, “My parents could really use the help with my grandma. The Alzheimer’s is . . . it’s getting bad. So now is a good time for all of us to head home.”

  Sin stands there, utterly still, her face hidden behind a mask of indifference.

  “It’s only tentative, right?” she asks, the husky timbre of her voice contradicting the indifference on her face.

  “Yep.”

  “Then I agree with Miles. Let’s do it. For you three, I’d do just about anything,” she says, biting the inside of her lip.

  “Dan?” For once he doesn’t come out with any jokes or witty quips.

  “Of course, I’m down, dude. Seriously, I’m sorry you have to deal with any of this.”

  I am too.

  Seth

  LAS VEGAS

  It’s over.

  The concept seems foreign and out of place. Kind of like the moon hanging high in the brig
ht afternoon sky. Am I surprised? No, but the reality of it still hurts. I walked into this thing with Adam with my eyes wide open.

  He never lied, never promised anything outside of the present moment. Every time his lips touched mine, every time he chose me, I kept trying to peer past the present into a murky future for the two of us. It was easy to brush away the hot and cold, the on-the-DL old-school mentality, and the I’m-your-boss-and-we-really-shouldn’t-be-dating bullshit. Or the we’re-together-but-only-under-strict-guidelines-and-within-specific-parameters nonsense. I fell for Adam so hard and so fast I didn’t realize it until I was knee-deep and sinking in quicksand.

  It’s not one-sided.

  Our time was apparently finite. To him I was an on-the-road distraction. Someone to simply bide the time. Hindsight being twenty-twenty, it was clear every time he slipped into my room late at night so as not to be seen instead of taking my hand in public and claiming me as his. It was crystal clear every time he ducked my touch because he couldn’t make a public declaration.

  What we had felt bigger than the secret; we felt like more. Somewhere in there I stopped giving him just my body, I offered my everything and, for six amazing months, I had the most conflicted, passionate, beautiful man.

  I told Adam I didn’t need an explanation. That I understood. And I did. I’d be an asshole not to. In one day, he found out his mom passed away and he had a three-year-old sister taken into custody by the state. Combine that with the responsibility he felt for Sin, and Dan, and Miles, and the weight he’s shouldering was enough to break the strongest back.

  But he doesn’t have to do it alone. Frustration propels me out the door. I hear the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different outcome. By that definition I’m certifiable. I’ve offered to help. I’ve offered my heart, I’ve offered my body, but he won’t take it.

  The front door to Adam’s house closes softly behind me with a click. I stand there for a long minute baking in the midday sun. Every instinct I have yells at me to walk back into that house and talk some sense into him. To get it through his thick skull he doesn’t have to make a choice. It doesn’t have to be one thing or the other, me or the band, fame or obscurity, in or out of the closet.

  I already know he won’t hear me. I tried last night and again this morning with no success.

  I walk with strong steps to my souped-up Jeep parked on the curb and climb into the driver’s seat, dropping my backpack on the floor in the back. I look back at the door expectantly, but it doesn’t open. Adam is in there and I’m out here. We’re over and nothing about this situation works for me.

  The engine roars to life and I pull away from the curb, driving the quick route to exit his housing development. It’s nothing but a quick jaunt to hit the 215 Beltway to head toward the Strip.

  It’s over.

  Over is for people who fall out of love. Not for people who still play, and laugh, and make love on the side of a pool overlooking the Las Vegas Valley. Over isn’t for people like us. I repeat those words to myself, trying to make sense out of nonsense as I drive to the hotel.

  During the almost thirty-minute drive I compose my thoughts. Sin arrives in the city today—the only one from the band staying on hotel property because she doesn’t have a private residence, which I get but it’s still a pain in the ass. It would be so much easier if she was staying in a private residence. Hotels have multiple entrances and exits, are open twenty-four seven and easily accessible to most areas. In other words, a prime hunting ground for the psycho who’s been trying to get at her for the last several years.

  I pull into the underground parking garage. The relief from the sun is immediate. I find the closest parking spot to the elevator and hop out at the same time my phone buzzes with a text.

  Aiden: Anytime now. I’ll wait. Really. There’s no hurry. None at all.

  I look at my reflection in the side mirror. My lips are a little puffy and my eyes a little swollen, but all in all there is no indication that today ranks in the top five of worst days I’ve had. Yay me. I straighten up and quicken my pace into the building.

  Seth: Here. Where are you?

  Aiden: Security office.

  Seth: And that would be where? I’ve never been here before and have no fucking clue where the security office is located in this big-ass hotel.

  Aiden: Somebody’s panties are in a tight wad. Calm down, princess. We’re on the third floor. Southeast side of the building. Door right next to the black sign that says SECURITY. You can’t miss it.

  Seth: Don’t miss that smoke I throw at ur ass either.

  I tuck the phone into my pocket and quickly navigate the sterile white hallways. It takes less than five minutes to find Aiden and the security office. He’s already gotten floor maps and room assignments.

  “Look who decided to finally show up today.”

  “Sorry I’m late. We good?”

  “I was just busting your balls. Sin hasn’t even hit the airport yet. Get this, they’ve set Sin up in the Chateau.”

  “Should I know what that is?” I fall into step beside him as he starts walking down the hallway.

  “It’s a hotel inside this hotel.”

  “I don’t even understand what that means.”

  “It means that Sin will be in an area that is completely isolated from the public. The Chateau is designed for dignitaries and the stupidly rich. The public doesn’t have access.”

  “How in the hell did you pull that off?”

  “I didn’t. According to the guy I just spoke to, they received the housing assignments this morning directly from Jacob Johnson.”

  “The CFO of The Hotel Why would he put that kind of money into upgrading a performer? I get that providing Sin with housing is part of the contract, but they’ve gotta be taking an L on this one.”

  “Probably a fan.” Aiden shrugs because this isn’t the first time some rich prick has thrown his weight or money around trying to get Sin’s attention. The shit never works, and I doubt this time will be any different.

  Aiden unrolls blueprints across the small desk, and we make quick work of mapping the hallways and routes she’ll have to take to and from the showroom. Then we get to play with the cameras and this shit rivals anything I saw in the service. All the cameras have facial recognition software. They pan, tilt, and zoom. It took a little time to get the hang of maneuvering them, but once I get a little comfortable it’s easy to find the Chateau. It’s located at the center of the hotel in the heart of a sort of labyrinth.

  They gave Sin the equivalent of a house. It’s called a villa, but it’s a house. An over-the-top, extravagant, kick-ass house. Looking at the closed-circuit video surveillance, this thing has three bedrooms, four bathrooms, a formal living room and dining room, on-site access to a saloon, a menuless restaurant, gym, and concierge. There’s a whole lotta other shit I won’t even pretend to understand that Sin won’t use because it’s not really her speed. However over the top, the villa is still cool.

  I’ve never been around people with money, but Sin is extremely uncomfortable with having it. In the months I’ve been with her I’ve only seen her splurge on vintage concert and band tees.

  Aiden and I get simultaneous texts. I pull my phone out and check the screen. From the corner of my eye I see him doing the same. Aiden sent Joey, one of the newer security guards, to get Sin.

  Joey: Scooped Sin from the airport ETA 15 out.

  “Sin’s here. We better head back,” Aiden says.

  The trip back through the maze of hallways doesn’t take nearly as long as our trip to the villa did, but when we finally hit the ground-level reception area, I know something’s wrong. People are everywhere. A lot of people, some with cameras and others buzzing with the frantic energy of fans. Aiden and I have to push our way through just to get to the sliding glass doors.

  “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Aiden growls. This situation has leaked. How else would this many people know not
only what entrance Sin would be arriving at but what time she would be in?

  I walk toward the parking spot as the limo pulls to a stop. I open the door, ducking my head inside, and out of habit my eyes sweep the interior of the vehicle. Completely empty except for Sin.

  “Good trip?” I ask.

  “Nothing to complain about here. You guys okay?”

  I nod, running a hand over my short hair.

  “Just a heads-up, Sin. One of these hotel fuckers let it slip”—I raise my fingers in annoyed air quotes—“that you’d be arriving today. So, it pretty gnarly in there.”

  “Fans or paparazzi?”

  “Both.”

  “Do they know I’m living here now? Or do they think it’s sound check and prep?”

  “As far as we can tell, they’re all here to get their shots and autographs and go home. Once you’re settled, one of the guys will get the luggage, so no one will be the wiser.”

  “Okay, thanks, Seth. You touch base with Adam yet? Is he already home?”

  I feel my skin warm under her knowing gaze and drop my eyes to the bench beside her. I hate lying to Sin. Especially because I’m pretty sure she knows anyway.

  “We . . .” I clear my throat before forcing my eyes to hers. “I haven’t talked to Adam for a couple of days.” Which is mostly true. For the last three days, we spoke without words, our bodies communicating what his head was too stubborn to admit and what my heart couldn’t seem to deny. “I’m sure he’s fine. You ready to go?” I offer her my hand toward her, wiggling my fingers.

  She takes her time looking between my face and my hand, as she gives me her hand and steps out. She stands so close she has to bend her head back to keep eye contact. “I’m not letting that statement go that easy, Seth. Just so we’re on the same page . . . I swear on my life you break his heart, I’ll bury you in the desert.”

  I bite back a smile at her threat. I’ve never been one hundred percent sure if Sin knew about me and Adam. I guess threatening to commit homicide if I hurt him answers that question. This girl has some serious lady balls. I respect her trying to protect her friend but I say, “It’s not his heart you have to worry about, Sin.”