Hard Luck (The Vegas Obsession Series, #1)

by Chloe Grey

  “You know I love Johnny Vegas, Les. Careful with your promises. I’ll hold you to them.”

  “Oh I’m sticking to this one if we win. I want us to let loose and meet guys and drink away all my frustration until I throw up on some sexy guy’s muscle shirt. It won’t be complete until we wake up hung over in a trashed presidential suite, with a live chicken walking around and an anaconda in the Jacuzzi tub.”

  Monica burst out laughing. “Sounds like the Vegas trip from hell. But I’m in!”

  The gas station attendant handed me the ticket and I kissed it. That was part of the ritual too. If this was the last time I played, this ticket was special, and so was this kiss. I pulled out my phone and took a selfie with the ticket. The picture sucked – I was not photogenic so I looked like a pale rat – but I was going for the memory, so I let it slide.

  “Lottery ticket selfie? Okay you’ve officially gone off the deep end, Les.”

  Afterward, we left, walking back to our cars still parked at the diner next door.

  “So,” Monica started out of nowhere. “I’ve been doing some thinking and... are you going to mention to Mr. Barkley that you’re interested?”

  We hadn’t talked about work while we ate, and I expected Monica to avoid the conversation, given my past results.

  “What do you think?” I asked, wondering where she was serious.

  “I think it could be good for him to see you making an effort. Pitch yourself. Show some balls.”

  “What, you think I need to grow some?” I joked, but then grew somber. “Do you really think I should?”

  Monica nodded. “Yes. I don’t want you to wonder or have any regrets.”

  I grabbed her hand when we got to our cars, thankful for her support. Monica was right; I needed to give it an honest try.

  “Okay, as soon as I get a chance in the morning, I’ll go to him.”

  “Perfect!” Monica smiled. “Good luck, sweetie. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Thanks hun!” I called, getting into my car.

  I slipped the lottery ticket into the glove compartment and gave it a good luck pat before starting the car. I couldn’t wait to talk to Mr. Barkley. I knew everything would work out. It had to. Chipper as ever, I pulled out of the parking lot and headed home, suddenly tired after a really long day. Monica and I worked the early shift. With a start time of four in the morning, I already longed for comfy pajamas, a glass of wine and cheesy TV by two in the afternoon.

  When I pulled into the apartment parking lot, there were several cars I hadn’t seen before. Probably that apartment next door got rented. I hoped whoever eventually moved in there would be quiet. The walls between our units were paper thin.

  Within ten minutes of getting in, the place smelled heavenly. Popcorn was my thing. Wine and popcorn didn’t exactly go together, but I didn’t care. Soon, I was settled on the couch, feet kicked up and happily munching. I was pathetically happy as I took in the daytime dramas. Watching the soaps was another guilty pleasure. It was my way of shaking off the lethargy of my job. Heck, I could live vicariously through the Brittneys and the Sophias of daytime television, and I wasn’t afraid to admit it.

  After finishing my glass of wine, I set the alarm for eight at night so I could be up and ready for my favorite reality series. Sleep came easily, and in what felt like a few minutes, the buzz of the alarm clock rocked me out of my peaceful slumber.

  The show began with the two remaining women reminiscing over the time they had spent in the mansion. The show producers sent the two showgirls and the hot billionaire on a few tours of various Vegas landmarks, mixing up the two-hour finale to keep it interesting for viewers. Just as it was getting juicy, I heard loud music coming from the other side of the living room wall. Shitty. Loud neighbors. I turned up the volume, but the music seemed to get that much louder.

  “Are you serious?” I said to the wall, still unable to clearly hear what the two lucky finalists were saying.

  The music overpowered my show.

  “This is not on!” I shouted, getting up from my comfortable couch. It was time to make sure they got schooled. I stormed out of my apartment and beat on the door, still wearing my pajamas and probably with full blown bedhead. This wasn’t the best way to meet new neighbors, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to be friendly with people so inconsiderate. I had to make a stand early on or the noise would never end. I didn’t want to be stuck listening to loud music every night.

  I banged on the door until it finally swung up. A girl in her late teens or early twenties stood before me. Her spiked hair, Goth clothing and black eye shadow were unexpected.

  “May I help you?” the girl asked.

  “I... I’m your neighbor,” I stammered, forgetting the rage I first felt, and pointing to my apartment door. “Look. Welcome to the building. I work some crazy early shifts and I would appreciate it if you would keep your music down.”

  I could see the people behind the girl. They were drinking and having a wonderful time, throwing a housewarming party, no doubt. I looked back to the girl and only saw a blank stare.

  “Yeah, I’ll get right on that.” The Goth girl laughed and started to close the door.

  I reached up and pushed on it to stop it from closing. I was tired of being overlooked.

  “This building has always been quiet. We’re not used to the noise or disruptive behavior.”

  The girl stared at me. “Look, ma’am, we’re just having a little fun and maybe someone like you...” the girl looked her up and down, “...wouldn’t understand that. Maybe you should join us. You know? Roll with the punches and shit.”

  My jaw dropped. I couldn’t believe the girl insulted me in one breath and invited me to party with them in the next.

  “Look. I don’t want to get started on the wrong foot, but if it continues... I’m calling the cops.”

  The girl rolled her eyes. “We’ll keep that in mind, but you know it’s like eight o’clock, right?”

  “What’s going on, babe?”

  I turned my attention to a guy who approached the door and wrapped his arms around the girl’s tiny Goth-clad waist. He looked older, but his eyes were dark and he had several face piercings.

  “Nothing,” the girl laughed. “We were just being advised of the building noise ordinance from this lovely burst of sunshine at the door.”

  He looked up, catching my stare and smirked.

  “Okay, if you want to go to bed... we’ll tone it down a little.”

  “I...” I started to argue, but the door shut in my face.

  Shit! I was fuming. The way these kids were so disrespectful, it was unreal. I walked back to my place and slammed the door. The music did go down, but I could still hear laughter on the other side of the walls. I couldn’t call the cops for people laughing and having a good time. I tried to get back into the reality show, but there wasn’t any use. My mind kept wandering back to how the girl looked me up and down. I couldn’t blame her. I felt so lackluster, and suddenly wanted to change, but didn’t know how.

  ***

  The next day, I spent a good portion of the day trying to appear occupied with work. All I could think about was talking to Mr. Barkley and finally taking a step closer to my career goals. Periodically, Monica checked in on me, motioning from a distance about whether I asked him yet. Sadly, I had not found the right time all day. He was either too busy or in meetings or about to put out a proverbial fire on set. In my excitement, I had even tried to get a few minutes as he returned from the men’s room, but Mr. Barkley was not impressed.

  As I packed up for the day, my spirits were low. I was convinced another missed opportunity had passed me by. But when I saw him coming out of his office, my hope reignited. I couldn’t believe it. He looked my way and motioned for me to come and speak with him. By then, I was so doubtful I still had a shot that I glanced around, just to make sure he wasn’t looking at anyone else.

  Convinced I was the object of his momentary focus, I left my desk and practi
ced my ‘Pick Me!’ pitch on my way. Considering I wasn’t the one to make the first move, there was some hope. He’d already taken his seat when I entered his office, brimming with enthusiasm.

  “You wanted to see me?” I asked, stepping closer.

  He looked up and lowered his bifocals to the edge of his nose to make eye contact.

  “Indeed I did. Have a seat, Leslie.”

  I wasn’t nervous as I watched him fumble through some papers. Well, maybe a little.

  “How can I help you?”

  He moved around some more of the clutter on his desk until he found a large manila envelope.

  “There it is,” he mumbled. “I didn’t want you taking off before I had the opportunity to talk with you.”

  The suspense was killing me, but I tried not to appear too eager to hear what he had to say.

  “As you know, we were left in a bind when Daisy up and quit, but...” he hesitated before continuing, “it wasn’t exactly a surprise.”

  “Yes,” I agreed. “It’s unfortunate she was so... unhappy.”

  “That’s an understatement. Monica did a great job today, even without the help of a co-host, but I feel that she needs someone to properly complement her.”

  “I know what you mean,” I replied, feeling like this was my moment in the sun.

  He smiled. “So, I’ve decided to go forward to find a person who will be a good balance with Monica.”

  I accept! I practiced in my mind. I didn’t want it to come across as overzealous, but I needed to convey the right message...that I was the right person for the job, and so freaking excited for this new chapter.

  “That’s great news!” I answered eagerly. “I’m sure whoever you choose will be excited to take the reins and has the potential to be a positive addition to the news’ family.”

  I would have given anything to take those words back. It came across as way too cheesy, and I could tell by the look on his face that he thought so, too.

  He nodded absentmindedly. “Yes... I suppose you’re right and I certainly hope so.”

  I settled back into the chair. I needed to keep calm and hoped I didn’t already blow my chances.

  “Anyway, that’s where you come in,” he announced.

  Chapter Four

  Leslie

  Holy fuck, say it already! I was on edge as I waited, anxious to hear the words. My attention shifted to the manila envelope he held on to. I figured it contained my first news’ script or something of that nature. It was so exciting and I couldn’t wait to hear him say what my ears – and my self-esteem – needed to hear. He looked down at the envelope and pushed it over to me. There was a name and address written at the top of the envelope. Neither of them was mine.

  “What’s this for?”

  “That’s where I need you to drop off the envelope. That way he can sign the contract before coming into work tomorrow.”

  “I don’t understand,” I replied, looking down at the envelope in total confusion.

  “I figured since his apartment is only about two blocks from your place, you wouldn’t mind dropping it off.” He paused for a moment. “You don’t, do you?”

  My head spun. Nothing could make sense of his words. “Who am I supposed to drop this off to?” I asked, staring at him.

  “Drew Masterson... the new anchorman.”

  Every word Monica said to me came rushing back in. I don’t want to see you put yourself through this and I definitely don’t want to see your heart get broken. I wanted to keep my promise, but I never dreamed this would happen again... and so cruelly.

  I had worked three years, putting my heart into this job, and for what... to find out that I was passed up again? This couldn’t be happening. I put the envelope down on his desk, searching for the right words.

  “Is something wrong?” he asked.

  “I guess that I’m a little bit surprised. I thought... I mean, I hoped I could be considered for the job.”

  Mr. Barkley nodded. He didn’t seem the least bit surprised to hear it.

  “Actually, I did consider you,” he confessed. “I know you’ve been working for a promotion, but this isn’t the right one.”

  I opened her mouth to argue, but he stopped me.

  “I have confidence that you would do a good job, but I’ve decided to go with a different approach. You know our viewership has changed. More women are watching, and they’re clamoring for a male anchor. Daisy’s departure created the perfect opportunity to give our viewers what they want. I’m sorry, Leslie. It’s the way it is and I have to roll with the punches.”

  Roll with the punches? This was the second time someone wanted me to roll with it and it felt like it meant I needed to stay out of their way.

  “So... I didn’t get the job, because I’m not a man?”

  It was even worse than I thought. It felt like I was a victim of discrimination for something I had no control over.

  He looked like he was mulling over his response.

  “That’s not what I said. We have to be responsive to our viewership or they will simply switch the channel and let some other station give them what they want. This is a business, Leslie. It’s nothing personal. Besides, being in front of the camera can attract a lot of negativity. I know you’re eager, but I honestly don’t know if you’re ready to embrace the realities of this job."

  The truth was out! That was more like it. She knew it had something to do with her looks.

  “I see...” I replied, standing up so I could escape the humiliation.

  I started to turn around, but he cleared his throat.

  “Are you going to drop off the script or do I need to find someone else?”

  I don’t know why I did it, but I reached for the envelope and snatched it from the desk.

  “Thanks for your honesty, Mr. Barkley.”

  It was all I could muster before leaving his office. I would drop the script off to Drew Masterson, whoever he was, because I was asked to. But I would have to think long and hard about staying at a place that wouldn’t consider me for career advancement.

  As I got back to my desk, I looked toward Monica’s dressing room. Her door was open, but she was on the phone. I wouldn’t interrupt her. Heck, I didn’t even want to talk. I could tell her later, after a bottle of wine to scrape up what was left of my confidence. I grabbed my purse and left with the envelope.

  I knew exactly where his apartment was. I passed that complex everyday as I drove to work. Seething, I wondered who this Drew Masterson was, and what he was like. Probably a snake. A fucking penis-owning pretty boy with bright eyes, a square jawline, and good teeth.

  I pulled into the parking lot and found the only vacant visitor spot. I left the car and headed to his building. The complex wasn’t much different from where I lived. It was a little bit bigger, but that was about it. Admittedly, I was busying my mind; distracting it from thinking about who in the hell got my job, and why I agreed to be the dumbass to drop off his offer letter and contract.

  Sighing out my frustration, I entered the alcove that read 221 and headed up the stairs. Suddenly I was nervous. I had no idea who this guy was. It felt strange knocking on his door and interrupting his evening. I looked down at the envelope. For a moment, I considered sliding it under his door, knocking and running away.

  “This is stupid,” I said, a little louder than I had intended it to come out. “Mr. Barkley gave me a simple task... I’m sure the guy’s already expecting me.”

  I walked up to the door and knocked. No answer. I waited and knocked again. Still no answer. Oh well, I tried. As I turned to leave, I heard rustling on the other side of the door. I turned back to see the door opening, but it was a woman. I couldn’t stop staring at her. It was one in the afternoon and the woman had a sheet draped around her like a toga. She didn’t appear much older than twenty.

  “Yes?” she asked, the frustration of my disruption thick in her voice.

  I’m not sure why, but I was at a loss for words. It must have
been the toga.

  “Hello... did you need something?” she asked.

  The irritation grew on the woman’s face. I had not considered running into a half-naked woman in a toga at my new co-worker’s door. All she was missing was a laurel wreath on her head and she could be right out of a Greek mythology book.

  “Uh...I...I am looking for Drew Masterson?” I felt nervous; it was so distracting, standing there with the woman.

  A light of recognition danced across the woman’s face, and then, a flash of disgust played on her features.

  “Hon... you have a visitor,” she called out.

  I thought about throwing the envelope to her and making a quick exit when a man peeked around the door. His hair was messed up and he appeared groggy, like he had just woken up or, more likely, was torn from a passionate round of sex. He stood in only a pair of lounge pants. I couldn’t help but look at his muscular chest. Eventually, I forced my way back up to his eyes. He was smiling.

  “Hello again.”

  Shit. It was the gorgeous man I ran into at the station. And here he was, hotter than sex itself, clearly not expecting visitors.

  The toga chick cleared her throat, bringing my attention back to her.

  “Are you going to stand there and eye-fuck Drew, or do you have a reason for being here?”

  “Uh...” I stammered, moving back from the door. “I was asked to bring this to Drew. It’s the contract for you to sign.”

  I handed over the envelope. I’d be lying if I didn’t admit my eyes wandered over his chest and abs again. I could feel the heat he gave off and it radiated right through me.

  “Thank you,” he said in his sexy baritone voice. “You know, I bumped into you and I never asked you your name.”

  “It’s Leslie,” I stuttered. “Leslie Adams.”