A Man to Waste Time On

by Nina Barrett

  “Ready?”

  She took a breath and slid her arm through his as they crossed the pedestrian bridge to the Center. It sure was feeling like they were a couple, no matter how much she professed otherwise.

  Inside the ballroom, the wait staff in black and white uniforms was circulating through the crowd with trays of canapés. Conversation and laughter drowned out whatever background music might have been playing.

  “Can I get you something from the bar?” he asked.

  “Sure, white wine, please.”

  She shook her head as a waiter approached with a tray. With her stomach in knots, she didn’t need to challenge it with anything exotic.

  The room was crowded with hundreds of people in fancy dresses and tuxedos, certainly more designer couture than she’d ever seen in one place. The sparkling lights of the chandeliers were answered by the winking jewels and sequined gowns below. Most of the movers and shakers of the city were sure to be in attendance. Some of the faces she recognized from media coverage. Probably all were Cristal drinkers instead of tea. Mercedes and Cadillacs had dominated the line of cars they’d waited in. She’d even spotted a Rolls Royce or two.

  Tom was coming back, glass in hand, along with an older gentleman with an impressive head of white, wavy hair.

  “Cinna.” He handed her the wine glass. “This is Bill Rollins, a member of poker’s Hall of Fame and a hospitality host at the Oasis Casino. Bill, this is a friend of mine, Cinnamon Smith.”

  “Just Bankroll, my dear.” He bent over the hand she gave him.

  “Of course, probably everyone in Vegas has heard of you.” Even holed up in a teashop, it was impossible to escape the advertising bearing his name and likeness—the Oasis Casino presents Bankroll Rollins in its Legends Lounge. Come join poker’s living legend at the place where dreams become reality! Many of the town’s highest rollers played at the Legends Casino.

  “It’s nice to meet you.”

  “And what do you do, little lady, besides making Tom here look good?”

  As Bankroll pretended an interest in the tea trade, standing close enough to look down her dress, a steady stream of Tom’s acquaintances came up. By the time the waiters and their trays had disappeared, she was half convinced her name was Cinnamon Smith SpecialTeas.

  “I think…” Tom waved across the room at someone and took her elbow. “I think that’s Dolores and Brielle from the Imperial over there. We all should be seated together.”

  The two women were waiting as Tom guided her through the crowd. The Imperial’s assistant manager was standing with a slight auburn-haired girl.

  “Cinna, I think you know Dolores.”

  “Yes.” She offered her hand. “You took me to meet Mr. McMasters the other day.”

  “Right. It’s nice to see you again,” Tom’s assistant manager said. “You look lovely.”

  “And this is Brielle Bennett, our assistant day shift supervisor.”

  Was there something familiar about the girl?

  “Hi. I don’t know if we’ve met, but maybe you’ve been in our shop? It’s SpecialTeas. We’re in the Fremont Street Extension Mall,” Cinna said.

  The girl’s large brown eyes behind oversized glass frames studied her.

  “Could be. I’m in and around Fremont Street a lot,” she said. “I like to get out and get some fresh air after a day at work and stretch my legs.”

  “So what do you think of all this?” Tom turned to face the crowd. “Quite a get together, isn’t it?”

  “It’s great,” Brielle said. “I’ve never seen so many big names in one place.”

  “You can’t completely appreciate what all this means unless you know how much work it was getting to this night,” Dolores raised her glass to Tom and turned to her.

  “Probably the Outies more than anyone. Outies are what the employees who used to work at the Outpost are known as,” Dolores explained. “Some of them returned after Jim McMasters bought it.”

  “Were there many who came back?”

  “No. Most had moved on to new jobs by then. Some who did were curious to see what could be made of it, to be a part of its reincarnation. While the location was good, the Outpost had definitely seen its better days. And then the Imperial was lucky to pick up new employees like Brielle.”

  Her companion looked down at her drink and shook her head.

  “She’s pulled our chestnuts out of the fire on more than one occasion. The reason we’re here tonight is due to our staff.” Dolores laid a hand on Brielle’s shoulder and looked up at Tom. “You know, you and Gentleman Jim presented an incredible vision of what we could hope to accomplish in that first senior staff meeting when you talked about working our way up to a five-star rating one day.”

  “Unfortunately, not everyone got the message.” Tom shook his head.

  Dolores smiled at the young woman beside her. “Brielle has.”

  “Oh, I’m glad for the experience. I feel like I’ve learned so much working at the Imperial. I don’t mind pitching in to lend a hand when it’s needed.”

  Tom had started to say something as an announcement interrupted them.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, if I may have your attention. Please begin making your way to the ballroom where our association banquet is set to begin shortly.”

  She and Tom followed Dolores and Brielle into the next room where white-linen circular tables and covered chairs were set under crystal chandeliers. Waiters in dinner jackets were filling water goblets.

  “We’re up there, Tom.” Dolores pointed to a table near the front.

  A cloud of aftershave enveloped her as Tom pulled out a chair for her.

  “Rollins, what are you doing here? I thought the people from the Oasis were over there?” Tom raised an eyebrow at the man sliding into the seat beside her.

  “Oh, they are. We’re not up for any of the awards this year. I traded my way around. Like the view better here.” He winked at Marco.

  She gave Bankroll a bright smile. After all, the Oasis might be in the market for tea too. Imperceptibly, she inched her seat closer to Tom’s.

  He turned his head to smile at her. “So do you need a refill, Cinna?”

  “Not now.” She needed to keep her wits about her and deal with the fact that the slight fragrance of Tom’s soap was more enticing than Bankroll’s exotic cologne.

  “How about you?”

  He shook his head. “I made the decision years ago to pass on alcohol. With my family history, I couldn’t believe it’d be a good choice.”

  The emcee at the podium was making some welcoming remarks as waiters entered carrying trays laden with sushi appetizers.

  “So tell me about yourself, Cinnamon. What brought you to Vegas?” Bankroll popped a whole sashimi in his mouth.

  Bankroll pretended an interest as she sketched out the route that had brought her to Vegas, her back toward Tom. She could overhear him talking about business with the others at the table. She must have been retreating as Bankroll leaned in toward her. Without breaking off his conversation, Tom casually draped his arm around the back of her chair.

  “So how is everything?” His lips grazed her ear where an earring swayed as Bankroll turned to outline a past poker triumph to others at the table.

  “It’s wonderful.” Careful. If she turned to look at him, their mouths would meet. He had to know it and he wasn’t moving. “I’m not used to this kind of thing. I’m afraid the clock is going to strike twelve and I’m going to turn back into Cinna Smith in her SpecialTeas apron instead of a fancy dress.”

  “The apron’s nice, too.” He batted an earring with a finger and then slowly traced his way down her neck.

  Come on now. What happened to just going to a dinner together? Was he changing the rules? He must know how he looked in that tux and he was using it. Remember the pre-Vegas version of Tom Marco you knew back in Des Moines she reminded herself. The heartbreak he’d left behind him.

  She scooted her lobster tail to the side of the dinn
er plate their waiter set down and started on the prime rib.

  “No lobster? That’s good eating, little lady.” Bankroll Rollins frowned.

  “Not for me. I don’t eat shellfish. Do you want it?” she offered.

  “Waste not, want not.” He hoisted it off her plate and onto his own.

  Tom gave her a wink.

  She had finished her dinner when Dolores bent down over her shoulder.

  “Cinna, Brielle and I are making a run to the restroom before dessert and the presentations. Do you want to come with us?”

  “Sure, thanks.” Tom got up to help with her chair.

  “Dinner has been wonderful,” she said as they maneuvered around the tables toward the door.

  “Hasn’t it? Although I think our chef at the Reserve could give them a run for their money. Have you eaten there, Brielle?”

  Her co-worker shook her head. “No, by the time I’m finishing up, I’m usually just interested in getting back to my own place and crashing.”

  “You’ve put in some marathon days, but I guess you’re only young once.”

  The ladies’ lounge with its leather upholstered armchairs and recessed lighting was probably nicer than the facilities in most private homes. She was touching up her lipstick as Dolores combed the heavy swing of her salt and pepper hair at the mirror.

  “I don’t think I’m going to do much about this mop.” Stray curls were escaping despite Magdalena’s efforts. She found a comb and pushed her hair back stubbornly and re-secured the silver barrette.

  “You look great. That dress was made for you,” Dolores said.

  “Thank you.” She was trying to avoid the reflection in the mirror, gazing at the stranger in the clinging lamé dress, the dangling earrings, the tangle of highlighted ash-blonde hair. That person looked too much like someone who might actually date someone wearing a tuxedo. Where was the anonymous tea and crumpets server she was used to seeing?

  “Well, it’s almost time.” Dolores checked her watch and turned to Brielle washing her hands at the sink. “We’ll see what our hard work has done for us.”

  “Who else is nominated?” Cinna asked.

  “The Desert Vista Inn and the Meridian in our category. They’re real competition. Both have been in business for a lot longer than we have. The Meridian took home the award last year.”

  “Don’t you think just the fact the Imperial has done so much in only a year is going to work in our favor?” Brielle dried her hands and checked her make-up.

  “I do. We’ll see if they agree with us. I know we couldn’t be here today without staff members like you picking up the load for employees like Ron Caisson.”

  “I don’t mind.” Brielle closed her purse and looked over at Cinna. “Ron’s our day shift supervisor. He’s has had a rough couple years. It’s been a lot to deal with.” She looked embarrassed.

  “We all know that, but sympathy only goes so far.” Dolores got the door for them. “Tom already has enough on his shoulders. He’s not on a rescue mission and Ron better get the message soon. Well, we need to get back in there so we can hold hands and think positive when our category comes up.”

  She didn’t think she had room for dessert, but the waiters were serving baked Alaska topped with sparklers when they got back to their table. She managed a few bites while Tom played with his before pushing it away and signaling for coffee.

  “Shouldn’t be—” He paused as the lights in the ballroom flickered and conversation stopped.

  “Sorry, folks.” A man at the microphone adjusted the sound. “Some heavy weather is kicking up outside. A storm front is moving in. We’re going to start now with the first presentation of the evening.”

  A number of winners had been announced and acceptance speeches given when the Imperial’s category was called. She saw Dolores reach over to take Tom’s hand as he enveloped hers in his.

  “The Las Vegas Hospitality Industry Association annual award for best small independent hotel casino property this year is awarded to…”

  “Come on. Come on.” She heard Dolores whisper.

  Tom’s eyes were fixed on the podium, his posture rigid. She thought he was holding his breath. Her hand was crushed in his.

  “The Imperial—Saint George’s Consortium, Ltd., owners, James McMasters, chairman of the board, Thomas Marco, General Manager.”

  She heard screams from Dolores and Brielle as she was swept into a kiss. Eyes wide, she gasped for breath as Bankroll released her, stumbling back against her chair.

  “Congratulations, little lady. Your man done himself proud.”

  Tom took Dolores’s hand as they got up to move to the podium. Brielle moved over to sit beside her.

  “Waiter!” Bankroll snapped his fingers at a passing waiter. “Let’s have some of your bubbly over here. Fill ’em up!”

  “Isn’t this wonderful?” Brielle squeezed her arm. “Gentleman Jim is going to be over the moon. It’s a shame that because of his age, he isn’t up for late nights.”

  She leaned forward listening as waiters brought glasses and champagne for the table. At her elbow, Bankroll was urging the server to keep it coming.

  Tom stepped forward to speak into the microphone, tilting it upward.

  “I can’t accept this award without thanking the staff of the Imperial, the men and women whose hard work over the past several years has brought us here tonight. Most especially, of course, James McMasters whose vision and spirit of adventure and daring led him from the Royal Air Force to his remarkable career in private industry and then to this city and the formation of his board of investors. In his name, my assistant manager, Dolores Rivera Ruiz, the staff of the Imperial, and I thank you all tonight.”

  A crowd of well-wishers engulfed Tom and Dolores offering congratulations. She watched Tom catch his breath as an attractive female embraced him. Bankroll was standing with his glass as they arrived.

  “To the Imperial. A job well done!”

  “Thank you.” Tom raised his glass, inclined his head, and replaced it on the table. His lips brushed her cheek as he sat.

  “Congratulations.” Could he feel how flushed she was? She took a sip of her champagne. Come on! It was just a kiss on the cheek. Tom was smiling at her.

  Dolores was digging into her purse. “I’m going to find somewhere quiet and call Leon. I don’t care if the game is tied or in double overtime. What about Gentleman Jim, Tom? Do you want me to call or would you rather?”

  “Go ahead.” He waved a hand. “I’m sure he’s waiting. Probably having a nightcap in the Exeter Club. The desk will find him for you.”

  Dolores tucked her purse under her arm as she got up to leave.

  Tom relaxed back in his chair to listen to the next presentation. One hand was draped idly across the back of her chair, close to the folds of her dress, his long, tanned fingers touching the fabric.

  Was she doing a bad imitation of Magdalena meeting David Witheroe for the first time? Hadn’t his abrupt exit from Des Moines been enough to cure her of her schoolgirl fantasies? Was this what Ed had called their Venus week? Were she and Magdalena both sending out signals? People around her seemed to be applauding something. Automatically, she joined in.

  She drew a breath and turned to look at him.

  “I guess you can all relax now.”

  “Yeah, it’s been a long day. A long, six weeks since the nominations were announced. Of course, we loved the recognition, but this guy…” he reached out to touch the statuette. It resembled a free-form rendering of a flame… “is the icing on the cake. Lovely icing.”

  His thumb touched the line of her spine as he contemplated the award.

  Oh, hell. She drained the last of her champagne.

  “Our last award of the evening is our Lifetime Achievement for Excellence in the hospitality industry to be presented to the individual whose contributions have promoted the Las Vegas travel industry. And then folks, we’re going to ask you to leave as quickly and expeditiously as possible. The N
ational Weather Service is issuing a flash flood warning for low-lying areas of the city. Some of you who live farther out, particularly north of here, may want to leave first.”

  “Brielle, why don’t you see what it’s doing outside?” Tom suggested.

  Around them, people were rustling and beginning to collect their things. She tried to give her attention to what was going on at the podium.

  Brielle was returning with Dolores as the last thank-you speech was given.

  “Chief, the weather is really getting bad,” Dolores said. “Leon was saying that some of the streets are being closed and power to our place was off for a while.”

  “The street looks like a swimming pool,” Brielle added. “There’s lightning and—” She stopped as the lights in the hall flickered.

  “I believe you. Cinna, are you ready?”

  She was already on her feet.

  “I should be all right,” Dolores said. “I’m south of here. I’ll drop Brielle off on my way. Tom, if you’re going to get back, you and Cinna need to leave right now. These desert storms can get dangerous.”

  Great. She’d never cared for storms anyway. Her champagne glass was empty. She reached over to take a sip from Tom’s glass. Brielle looked alarmed. Maybe she felt the same way.

  “Okay, let’s go. Dolores, you’ve got your cell phone if you get in a dicey situation. Try to enjoy the rest of the weekend.” Tom got the chair for her.

  She almost didn’t notice him putting his arm around her as they moved with the crowd toward the exits. The sense of unease was spreading. Even inside the thunder was deafening. She stopped with Tom in front of the entryway windows, staring as lightning arced across the sky.

  Could he read the fear on her face? Tucking her hand under his arm, he guided her through the crowd and across the pedestrian bridge to the garage. Sheltering in a corner, she could see sheets of rain being pushed like waves across the asphalt surface.

  “You stay here. I’m going to find the Jag. It may take a while.”

  “No.” She pulled on his coat. “You’ll drown out there. It’s dangerous. Wait for a valet.”

  “Don’t worry. I passed all my water safety tests back in basic. Although I wouldn’t count on getting the deposit back on this tux tomorrow.” He took off his coat and covered his head with it. “You stay here and watch for me. Three honks—short, long, short.”