by Hazel Parker
“I don’t mean what you did, although, damn, I never imagined I’d be on a date with a Harvard graduate.”
“Why not?”
I didn’t mean the question as anything other than innocent; maybe it was a case of me being blind to how things normally worked, but smart people were everywhere. I didn’t think it was that unusual to think that a Harvard grad could be found in Las Vegas.
But Richard’s answer told me that I’d missed out on quite a few things.
“I grew up in a blue-collar family, where ‘Harvard’ was like Mars. It might be something that existed, but it was something that was never going to cross my mind.”
Just then, Richard’s drink came out. He offered once again for me to order a drink.
“I’ll get one after dinner,” I offered. “I want to enjoy the meal.”
“Alright, alright, if you insist, I’ll drink for both of us.”
I loved his sense of humor; it wasn’t really dry, but it was very direct and to the point.
Perhaps the best part of it, though, was that I found myself thinking less and less of Richard in comparison to the other men I had dated and more as just him being who he was. I’d been too close to my father and to previous dates to have thought of Richard as anything other than a contrast to what was before, but with that barrier removed, it made it easier and better for me to start to evaluate him.
And I had to say, so far, so good.
“Anyways, yeah, that was my world. A lot of drinking for two people.”
“How did you wind up in Vegas? And how long did it take you to build The Red Door?”
“Oh man, shooting all the bullets tonight, huh?” he said with a smirk as he drank half his scotch in one gulp. “I—”
But he left me hanging as the waiter came back and requested our meals. I hadn’t even had time to look, so I just went with what I knew would work—ribeye with spinach. Richard got the New York strip with steamed asparagus and a baked potato. I think both of us ordered as fast as we ever had, all with the intent of getting back to conversation as fast as we could.
“I left my small town in California when I was just eighteen,” he said. “I had an older brother whose shadow it felt like I was living in for my entire life. I wanted to get away from it all and thought of the closest place that would allow me some distance. So I hopped on my motorcycle, packed some clothes in my backpack, and drove to Las Vegas.”
“Wow,” I said.
It’s a little bit different than flying on a private jet here. But you know what? It sounds a hell of a lot more fun.
“And when I got here, I wanted to start my own business, but I didn’t have any money. Like, literally, I didn’t even have a bank account. I had a few hundred bucks in my wallet I was always paranoid about losing. I didn’t even have a place to stay. I just needed to get here and figure it out.”
“My goodness, how did you sleep?”
“Poorly,” Richard said, pausing for a second before chuckling. “Very poorly.”
There was a part of me that believed he was trying to hide the fact that he’d probably slept with a few women those first few weeks. I didn’t mind it, I didn’t think a man like Richard was someone who lacked confidence in getting girls, but it was nice to see that he wasn’t just going to flaunt it all in my face. Sometimes, the richer men thought that the way to impress me was to discuss all of the “famous” women they had slept with, but I honestly didn’t care.
“In any case, a friend of mine and I eventually started the club here, but we vowed to do it differently than my brother. Instead of just being open, we wanted to be overly cautious about who we let in. We promised to make sure the club grew organically, no matter how long that took. This friend, a woman named Mama—don’t worry, she’s not my mom, and she’s not anyone I’ve ever had a thing for—had the brilliant suggestion to turn our weaknesses into a positive. And that’s how the Red Door got started.”
“Nice,” I said.
I didn’t want to come across as the jealous type or the inquiring type, but this Mama character was someone I needed to know more about. Not even from a jealous lover perspective, but more because I knew if Richard and I were ever to become anything, I was probably going to have to go through Mama at some point.
“Who is Mama?” I said.
I thought of adding in that I wasn’t jealous, but that probably would have set off red flags that I actually was jealous. Richard smirked.
“Mama is the hardest, toughest woman I have ever met in my life,” he said. “I’m probably closer to you in upbringing than I am her. She went through some fucking crazy shit.”
“Wow,” I said, feeling a little nervous. I may not have been as prim and proper as my parents, but I could still easily have the appearance of a spoiled brat. A woman like Mama was probably going to tear me alive.
“Her real name is Tanya Reed. She’s actually a year younger than me, and I just called her Tanya. But someone in the club called her Mama, and the name stuck. Sometimes, she’s a giant pain in the ass, but for the most part, she’s someone who has my best interests at heart and looks out for me.”
“Really,” I said. “Did you talk to her about me?”
Stupid, stupid, stupid! Why would he talk about you so early? Ugh, that’s so desperate.
“A little, but nothing crazy,” he said. “Just said to be careful.”
“Oh, good,” I said, but I was still internally berating myself for what had happened.
Richard got a little bit further into his backstory with Mama, explaining how the club grew and started adding clients, and how one guy named Dom had played a huge role in recruiting some big-name clients to the club. The way he described Dom made me believe that it was the same guy who had shot me some creepy smirks across the main room of The Red Door; that was only further reinforced when he described Dom as “the guy who Mama needs to slap for not being serious enough, yet is seriously the most important person for the continuing growth of The Red Door.”
Before he could turn it back to me, though, our meals came out, and my mouth started watering at the steak in front of me. My trials with learning how to cook for myself had not gone as swimmingly as I had initially hoped, and while my family loved to serve delicious food at their parties, that typically consisted of seafood and more exotic meats. This steak, though, looked like a piece of heaven delivered by all of the gods in existence.
“Bon appetit, eh?” Richard said. “Or would there be a phrase in Russian that we should say instead?”
“Haha, that’s sweet,” I said. “Sometimes, we say prijatnovo appetita, but for the most part, we just dig into our food.”
“Don’t need to tell me that twice!” Richard exclaimed as the two of us devoured our steaks.
I can’t lie, while silence on a first dinner might have seemed a little awkward and weird a lot of times, in this case, it was perfect. The food was so good that to not jump into our meals would have been a shame. I had quite literally never had a steak so good in my life, and my only surprise was that my father had not taken me to such a steakhouse before. I knew he wasn’t big on red meat, but he wasn’t someone who refused to eat it at all costs.
Richard looked like he had the same expression on his face.
“You know,” he said after his last bite. “I love to cook myself some steak at home. It’s probably not a good thing to admit, but it’s my most frequent dinner. But, damn, if I could eat here every night… I probably wouldn’t, because then this wouldn’t be quite so magical and special, but it would be hard to pass up.”
“Funny enough, it would be possible,” I said. “But I think you’re right. The good things in life become average when you enjoy them every day.”
That wasn’t necessarily entirely true. I tried to remain grateful every day for all the things given to me. But the very fact that I had just assumed he had dated someone from Harvard or a school of equal pedigree told me it was impossible for me not to live in that world.
&n
bsp; We finished the rest of our meal, and Richard gave his credit card over. I put up a fight, even sliding him a hundred-dollar bill, but Richard was having none of it.
“Think of it as my punishment for ordering a drink without letting you have one.”
“Oh, please,” I said. “I chose not to drink. I don’t begrudge you in the slightest for having a drink.”
“Well, I begrudge myself!” Richard said with exaggeration, as if making a royal proclamation. The gesture made me giggle—just like many other things Richard did.
“So, where to now?” I said. “Rumor has it that you have a surprise planned for me.”
“Why, wherever did you hear such a thing?”
“From you,” I said.
I’d let the moment slip for a witty conversation, but Richard laughed in good nature anyways. I like this guy. I really, really like this guy.
It’s too bad Dad will never approve of this.
“Well, yes, my rumors about my plans are indeed correct, I do have a surprise planned for you,” he said. “But I can’t tell you what it is until you see the place we’re going. Let me ask you this, though. Have you seen many shows in Vegas?”
“Surprisingly, no,” I said, causing his eyes to light up. “Most of the parties and events I attend are thrown by my father. You’d think we would have seen everything by now, but that’s not the case at all. I need to start going to these shows a little bit more.”
“Well, I have just the thing to start,” he said.
The waiter came back with the paid bill. Richard took it, left a substantial tip without thinking about it, and then stood up and took my hand.
“Let me show you something that will make you say ‘ohhh.’”
I smiled as my hand slid into his, my fingers wrapping perfectly around him, his hand practically engulfing mine. Heat filled my body, and I couldn’t help but wonder when something was coming.
Not the surprise.
Our first kiss.
I didn’t think Richard was going to hesitate when the appropriate moment came, but I was a little surprised that he hadn’t done it at the conclusion of dinner. I would have more than let him in that moment; my body practically craved the kiss. Yet, I knew full well that the longer I waited, the more I’d want it.
I think Richard knew it, too, because he had a devilish grin on his face.
“You’re not going to tell me where we’re going to go, are you?” I said, exaggerating my pleading.
“Why would I do that,” he said, “when I can just show you?”
We turned a corner, and I gasped. He was right. It did make me go “ohhh.”
“Oh!” I said in reference to the sign for the Cirque du Soleil show “O.” “You’re clever. I see what you did there.”
“You’d be surprised at what more I can do,” he said with a wink.
I moved in to squeeze him tight, swaying my body as I did so. I propped my chin on his chest, looking up at him, practically begging him to kiss me. All he had to do was just move forward a little bit, tuck his chin a little bit, move forward a bit…
“C’mon, let’s go check out the show.”
I looked at him with eyes that said: “That’s how it’s going to be?” I wasn’t used to getting denied what I wanted; I wasn’t used to having to try this much to make it happen.
I had to say, it was really turning me on. I liked a challenge. I may not have realized how much I wanted a challenge until now but having it before me made me crave it even more. Damnit, Richard. Stop turning me into jello.
We went inside to the theatre to watch “O.” I spent the entire time with my hand on Richard’s, leaning forward and gasping and watching in surprise. It was an utter delight to hold his hand while watching a show that could be called nothing short of magical. I wished that I had paid greater attention to the show so I could talk about it, but I was feeling so thrilled that I couldn’t.
Richard’s hand mostly just laid there passively, letting me take it in my own, but that’s just what I wanted. I couldn’t stop holding it, squeezing it, taking it in both of mine. I couldn’t stop thinking about when I would finally get that damn kiss. My passion and my feelings for him were starting to become too strong to handle, and it was all because it was like Richard knew how to play his cards right.
At the conclusion of the show, he stood up, adjusted his suit, and turned with a smile to me.
“Oh, my God!” I said, leaning in and hugging him. “This has to be the best first date I’ve ever been on.”
“The best?” Richard said, arching an eyebrow at me. “I don’t know. I have to think some rich guys have shown you a truly fantastic time.”
“You’d be surprised,” I said.
I supposed if I thought about it long enough, I could find a date that, on paper, would have looked more thrilling than this. But a lot of those dates had come after the first date, or they had come from guys who didn’t have enough confidence in themselves to think that something as simple as coffee and cocktails would sell the deal. The more I gave it earnest thought—all while holding Richard’s hand and heading for Las Vegas Boulevard, mind you—the more I began to really believe this truly was the best first date I had ever been on.
When we got outside, I realized that I’d almost never actually been on the streets of the Las Vegas Strip, either. Our limos had always put us right up on the office door we needed to go into. It’s like a whole new world that I’ve never even known existed before. How could I have avoided such a thing for so long?
It wasn’t all glamorous, of course. I had multiple men trying to hand me fliers for strip clubs, which befuddled me, but Richard kept me close, his arm around me, preventing them from getting too close to me. He led me to a small, half-circular inlet to the fountains, leaning up to the railing.
“Having fun tonight?” he said.
“What do you think?”
This is the moment he’s going to kiss me. It has to be.
“I think that you seem like you’re pretty happy,” he said, turning to me as his hands went to my back. This really is it. “But you haven’t seen anything until…”
As if he commanded the fountains of Bellagio, he motioned to turn to them. The lights and the fountains burst to life, and a show unlike anything I had ever seen began, with Frank Sinatra’s “Luck Be a Lady” playing in the background. I leaned into Richard, his body still facing me, as the two of us watched the water spouts go from side to side, shoot to the heavens, and synchronize perfectly with the music on the speakers.
Then, as the song came to an end, as the water shot to its highest point, I felt Richard’s left hand go to my cheek. He turned me to him as I looked up in awe at his eyes. His lips were slightly pursed, his eyes narrowed, and his cheeks red. Around us, I heard Sinatra belt out the final “Luck be a lady tonight.” Richard closed his eyes and leaned forward. I did the same.
And we shared our first kiss.
I couldn’t have asked for a better moment to share my first kiss with Richard. That I was even marking the moment as something to remember stood out in its own right. It had been so long since I’d had anything like this—since early in college, if I was being honest, and even then, that relationship fizzled out when it turned out the guy just wanted sex—that I felt like a teenager having her first ever kiss.
The kiss lasted all the way through the end of the song and then some. I knew people were around me before that, but at that moment, there was nothing I cared about more than just having that moment with Richard. All of Las Vegas could see us for all I cared. All of Las Vegas…
Which included…
I gently pulled back from my kiss, staring into Richard’s eyes. He was a handsome man, of that there could be little doubt, but he was handsome precisely because he wasn’t a pretty boy. He was rough on the edges, both in lifestyle and looks. He had on a very nice suit, but he also had his beard and other identifying features that made it clear that he was not just a businessman. He was much more.
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br /> And it was for that reason that my father would never allow this.
How long was I going to go along with this? How long would I let things play out with Richard?
Or, on the other hand, how long was I going to let my father’s presence and influence affect me so much? What was I—the girl who was twenty-six years old, independent and strong, or the girl who wanted desperately to stay in her father’s good graces, even knowing he largely gave me free rein in Las Vegas?
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” I said, amazed that Richard picked up on what I was feeling.
“No, Natasha,” he said, squeezing my shoulders gently. “What’s going on?”
Not gonna let me off the hook, huh?
“My father… I like you, Richard, but—”
Richard answered emphatically with how he felt about that.
Or, rather, he showed me. He kissed me again, this time lifting me off of the ground, causing me to moan in delight. I put my arms around his neck as he held me up. Only when he dropped me to the ground did he actually give a verbal answer.
“I respect your father, he’s a good man, and he’s done quite a bit with his life,” he said. “But you’re not a teenager, Natasha. You’re a grown woman, and I’m a grown man. We’ll do things our way. Eventually, maybe this will hit a breaking point, but until then, I’m not going to stop, and I hope you don’t either.”
I loved Richard’s confidence, especially regarding my father. Most men, even the ones who were the sons of politicians and other billionaires, had a healthy fear of my father. They sucked up to him, treated him like a god. I had seen Richard treat my father well, but that was different than treating him with reverence.
“I won’t,” I said. “I just… I may have moments like this. I’m looking for something that lasts, and unfortunately, my father is a large part of that.”
“I know,” Richard said.
He looked at his watch.
“It’s only ten p.m.,” he said. “You know, I’m someone who generally takes dates as long as they can go. I don’t like to go slow. But…”
