“I’m done with you,” I said coldly. “Don’t call me again. Don’t show up here. Don’t talk to the media, don’t drive by my apartment, and, if you see me on the street, assuming I’m ever able to leave my apartment again, I don’t want you to even acknowledge that you know me. Leave me alone.”
I hung up on him, and I closed my eyes. I was breathing heavily and my heart was pounding. I had to remind myself over and over what a practiced, skilled liar Ethan was. The truth was, everything he’d said sounded plausible. I thought with alarm how I may have reacted if I’d been with him in person instead of on the phone. If we had been in physical contact… would I have believed him?
My phone rang and I rolled my eyes. “Fucker doesn’t know when to quit!”
I picked it up and looked at the screen, then swallowed hard. It was my college advisor, Dr. Evans.
“Hi,” I said weakly.
“Becka, what the hell is going on?” Her voice was furious. I’d never heard her so angry in my life.
“I… you mean about the news?” I honestly didn’t know which part to address first. The college knew I was under investigation, of course, but I hadn’t heard anything about it from the college’s end since Dr. Evans had first told me that I needed to be aware of it a few weeks back.
“I mean, about everything! You’re in a lot of trouble here, Becka. The college has said that they will no longer be affiliated with Neurotova. They returned Dr. Weeks’ donation. That means all of the funding for Protame has been pulled once again.”
“What?” I gasped. “Can they do that?”
“They did it, and it’s in large part due to you, so don’t act so shocked.”
“You’re not blaming me…” I began, but Dr. Evans wasn’t listening.
“The college issued a statement to the press saying that it has no affiliation with Neurotova, and that you are no longer a student at the college. As of today, you’re suspended until further notice.”
I felt like I was going to faint. I heard a rushing in my ears and I heard the phone drop to the floor.
“What is it?” Lisa asked, rushing into the room. “What’s wrong?”
I stared at the phone on the floor. Dr. Evans had disconnected.
“I’m suspended from school,” I whispered. “The college has dropped any of its association with Oliver or with Neurotova.”
“Oh Becka,” Lisa said, sitting down next to me. She put her arms around me and, for the first time, I started to cry.
I could hear the chanting of the press outside our window; it sounded like they were after blood. And, they had it. I was flayed open, dying. My boyfriend had stolen my research. It didn’t need saying that I no longer had a job at Neurotova. And, my college had suspended me, which meant that, even if I could get my research back, my dissertation was over. When I woke up this morning, sure, life wasn’t perfect, but now… now my life was over.
I looked at Lisa. “I want to get out of here,” I said. “I want to get out of here right now.”
“We’ll go anywhere you want to go,” she said firmly.
“I want to go to Vegas.”
“Vegas?” she said, arching her eyebrows. “I was thinking more…” she shook her head. “Never mind what I was thinking. You want to go to Vegas, that’s where we’ll go. Do you have your passport?”
I nodded.
“Then let’s pack and go.”
“No packing,” I said. “We need to disguise ourselves, and we can’t leave the building with luggage; that will draw attention. We can buy everything we need when we get there.”
“I won’t ask where the money is coming from to do this,” she said.
I smiled, for the first time in what seemed like ages. “I have the credit card to Oliver’s expense account in my purse. It’s the least he can do.”
Lisa grinned. “Indeed. It is the very least.” She grabbed my hand and we went to our rooms. Fortunately, Lisa had a rather extensive wig collection. I picked one that looked the opposite of my personality. It was a spiky, neon green, long in the front and short in the back. I put it on, then put black eyeliner on my lips and my eyes, dressed in fluorescent pink, and put fingerless gloves that ran the full length of my arms.
“Jesus,” Lisa said when she saw me.
“The best way to be ignored is to get them all to look at me, right?”
“That way, I can get the car out of the garage. Smart.” She nodded.
“I’ll scoot down to the end of the block and you can get me there.”
The plan actually worked, though I nearly froze when I walked out the front door of my building. The view from above was nothing compared to being at eye level with the more than a hundred people standing around all looking for me. Fortunately for me, the majority of them were looking up. The ones that weren’t were looking for a geeky, mousy scientist type who was most likely trying to sneak out… not a bold as can be, confident goth chick strolling out the door like she owned the place.
Lisa got the car out of the garage and drove it around the block; I got in and we laughed, a matching pair of goths on the run.
***
The lights of Vegas washed clean my thoughts about Oliver and Ethan and the trouble I was in with school and the law. For a moment, I imagined living in Vegas forever, moving from casino to casino, no awareness of space or time, eating when I was hungry, gambling when I was bored. I shook my head. That was not my life.
“We need clothes,” Lisa said.
“Definitely,” I said. “Let’s hit the mall, then go to the strip.” We had rented a convertible, and we took a quick hour to go shopping and pick up clothes for the weekend, then headed back to our hotel. We’d decided to stay on the strip at the Wynn. We checked in, then went to our room to change. When I showered and put on my normal clothes, I felt a ton better. I’d gone with skinny jeans and a midriff bearing red top that accentuated my curves and my breasts. I paired it with red flats; I was tall enough I didn’t need heels.
Lisa looked similarly sexy, and we knew we’d draw some looks as we walked through the casinos. I withdrew a few hundred bucks from Oliver’s card, and we went to the first blackjack table we came to. The dealer was more than happy to have two beautiful women sit down at a table of all men. The men were there for a business conference, and they began to hit on us immediately. After a short while, we weren’t spending our own money any longer; they were betting for us, adding to the bets we placed. Lisa was more theatrical than I was, and she was eating up all of the attention.
After awhile, I turned to Lisa. “I’m starving,” I said. I had no idea how long we’d been there, but it had to be late afternoon.
“Me too.” We finished our round and then stood up, to the groans of the table of men.
“Sorry, boys, beauty’s gotta eat!” Lisa said, always the flirt. “We’ll come back, promise!”
“You better!” One of the men said. “This place already sucks without you!”
She smiled and blew him a kiss. We pocketed our chips and went to cash out.
“Forget work, we could make a living this way,” Lisa said as the cashier handed us close to a thousand dollars.
“No shit,” I said. “Let’s walk the strip a little? I want to see the Bellagio fountain.” The fountain was a landmark in Vegas, a colorful work of art that played music, the water dancing to the beat of the song. It was remarkable.
We were standing at the fountain, listening to Billie Jean by Michael Jackson, when I heard someone call my name.
“Becka? Becka Jasper? Is that you?”
I turned and saw a man who was familiar; it took me a moment to place him.
“Marcus? What the fuck!” I grinned and ran to him, throwing my arms around him. “What are you doing here?”
He flicked his name tag; he was here for a conference on biomedical engineering.
“Want to introduce me?” Lisa said, coming to my side and extending her hand. I could already feel her sizing up Marcus as a potential mate.
/>
“This is Marcus Benson,” I said, “the high school love of my life.”
“It’s a crazy small world,” he said, winking at me.
“It is,” Lisa agreed, “but you have no idea how often I’ve run into someone I know in this town. It’s crazy.”
“What are you doing here?” he said.
“Just… having a girls’ weekend. We needed to get away for a few days.”
I was sure that the news of Neurotova would eventually go national, but hopefully the dome of Vegas would keep it out for at least the time I was here.
“It’s so good to see you!” I said warmly. I hugged him again. Marcus and I had dated for three years in high school and had broken up only because we went to different colleges and had agreed that we’d get back together if it was meant to be. During the time we were broken up, we discovered that we loved being friends far more than we’d loved dating. We’d stayed close for a long time, but then, as people do, we’d lost touch over the last two years.
“You look amazing,” he said, holding me at arm’s distance so he could get a look at me. “Like, seriously hot.”
“Stop,” I said, blushing.
“Don’t stop,” Lisa corrected me. “Tell her she looks like a million bucks; she could use the ego boost right now.”
“Shut up, Lisa,” I warned.
“What’s going on?” Marcus asked, looking at me, concerned.
“Nothing,” I said. “I’ve just been having a rough go of it lately.”
“Well, how about if you tell me about it over dinner? We’re done for the day with the conference. There’s a dinner and cocktail hour later, but, frankly, I’d rather hang out with you than with that group of nerds.” He looked at Lisa. “Of course, you’re invited, too.”
“Aw, thanks!” she grinned. “But maybe I’ll just hit the tables while you’re at dinner. Maybe we can all get lucky tonight.” She arched her eyebrows meaningfully at me and I punched her in the shoulder.
“See you later!” she waved.
“She’s subtle,” Marcus said, laughing.
“Tell me about it.” We walked into the nearest restaurant, an Italian place, and spent two hours getting caught up on our lives. I told him only the basics of my dissertation and Neurotova, though I didn’t mention it by name. I kept everything in the present tense.
We drank two bottles of wine, and, by the time the bill came and we were ready to leave, I was unsteady on my feet.
“Where are you staying?” Marcus asked. His face was close to mine, closer than it had been in years, and I looked directly into his green eyes, they were green with grey flecks, they both matched and contrasted his light brown hair. His jaw was strong, still very cut, but it has softened over the years since we’d dated.
“Um,” I said, for the moment forgetting the name of the Wynn.
He took that opportunity to lean in and kiss me, softly at first, then, as I returned his kiss, more firmly. I felt my body respond in a completely different way to his familiar touch. It was like coming home to a home cooked meal, or your own bed after a long vacation.
“I’m staying upstairs,” he said. “Want to continue the party up there?”
I hesitated as I felt my body pulled in two directions. It was a surreal feeling; I was almost sure I could feel the angel and devil cartoons on my right and left shoulders. The devil was hissing at me to go upstairs with Marcus and let that kiss be the first of many. The angel was pleading with me to remember that I had a boyfriend and, no matter how angry I was at Oliver, cheating was never my thing.
“I…” I looked away. “I have a boyfriend,” I said quietly. “And I can’t.”
Marcus smiled and looked down to catch my eye. He lifted my chin.
“Babe, that’s cool. We’ll call it good with dinner, yeah? It’s probably better for me to get a good night’s sleep before the conference continues tomorrow anyway.”
I smiled. I should have known; Marcus had always been a classy guy, and it looked like that trait had continued.
“You’re a sweetheart, Marc,” I said. “You always have been.”
“Do you want me to walk back to the Wynn with you?” he asked.
I told him I was going to Uber it back, and he waited with me at the door until the car pulled up. I kissed him goodbye again—on the cheek this time—and we agreed that we would keep in touch.
The trip to the Wynn was fast, and I got to my room feeling a bit more sober than when I’d left. I was eminently grateful that I had listened to the angel on my shoulder and gone home. When I laid down on my bed, I looked at my phone. Wished I could text Oliver. Wished I had a normal relationship.
Then, I began to imagine how it would be if he were with me here at the Wynn. Touching me, lying beside me, pleasuring me. I imagined him crawling into bed next to me and kissing me, his warm body against mine. His mouth soft, searching, using his tongue, his teeth, and his lips to connect with me, to arouse me. I would press against him and feel his hard cock against me as he nudged it between my legs. He would groan softly and I would smile, knowing that, though he was a billionaire, in the bedroom he needed something money could never buy: he needed me. I would be wet, and he would slide his fingers between my legs, pushing them easily into me. I would spread my legs wide, giving him space to pleasure me. As I fantasized, I watched his movements through my imagination… his thumb lightly tracing the hood of my clit as it begins to harden, my clit growing against his touch. I smiled, imagining him pulling his fingers out of me and licking them, smiling at me, then sliding his cock in and beginning to thrust against me, slowly at first, then faster.
I closed my eyes and groaned with pleasure at the familiarity of him, the sensation of him inside of me. He knew exactly where and how to touch me, and I breathed into his scent, his warmth, even though I had no idea where on Earth he was. I opened my eyes and looked at my phone again. I knew that I needed to talk to him. Not tonight; it was late and I had been drinking far too much to call anyone. I wasn’t a drunk dialer. I texted Lisa instead.
“Where are u?” I asked
“Almost there!” she responded. “Got caught at the slots. Got bank tho! $$$”
I smiled and clicked the phone to silent for the night. I knew that if she won big—which for us would be about a hundred bucks—she would come to the room with a bottle of something bubbly for us. I thought back over my evening…things had gone pretty well. I had made good decisions, and I’d gotten some clarity. If I was willing to turn down Marcus because Oliver was my boyfriend, there had to be something in me that was still on Oliver’s side. I felt victorious; I knew how I felt about Oliver, and I’d managed to figure it out without texting, calling, or otherwise notifying him. I still had my advantage, whatever that was.
I thought about heading home and everything that would be waiting for me there; I hoped I could keep this feeling going. I sighed. Reality was about to knock on my door once again. Just then, I heard the key swipe in the lock, and Lisa came through the door with, as I had guessed, a bottle of champagne.
“Honey, I’m home!” she called into the room, grinning at me.
***
When we pulled back up to our apartment, the crowd of journalists had dwindled down to practically nothing, but there were still a few creeping around. When I saw them, the reality of my situation hit me in the face like a shock of fire. Everything I’d lost: my college, my advisor, my boyfriend, my dissertation, my job, my future…all of my research… I was empty.
I looked at Lisa and I knew she knew exactly what I was thinking. We walked quietly up to the apartment. I went straight to the couch and laid down. The time in Vegas, seeing Marcus… it had been fun, but I wondered if it had led to a larger emotional fall coming home. I felt, truly, like I could die.
“You know,” Lisa said, sitting beside me, her hand on my thigh, “you still haven’t talked to Oliver since the morning he supposedly took your research. Maybe you should call him.”
I looked at her
, surprised.
“It’s just that… you’re miserable without him. I can see that. Anyone with eyes can see that. Do you truly believe he’s the monster the media and Ethan are making him out to be?”
“That’s the whole thing,” I said. “I don’t know what to believe.”
“Here’s what I know. You’ve always had amazing intuition when it comes to people. I know that you would never date anyone that you didn’t trust. You would never be around someone you didn’t have a good feeling about long enough to actually date them. And, you’ve never had a good feeling about Ethan. Sure, you were attracted to him, but not enough to throw Oliver over for him. Oliver is your man. And the only person who has been feeding you negative information about Oliver is his brother.” Lisa shook her head. “I just can’t believe that Oliver is as bad as Ethan said, and you wouldn’t have seen it a mile away.”
I thought about that. I knew, through my depression, that she was right. I looked at my phone. A minute later, I brought up Oliver’s number. Imagined myself dialing. Imagined him answering. Imagined us having a conversation. What would we talk about?
I was nervous… but I dialed the number anyway. When it began to ring, my stomach jerked nervously and my mouth suddenly became as dry as a desert. When I heard his voice on his voicemail, I closed my eyes and hung up.
Lisa stood in the doorway to the kitchen. “Did he answer?”
I shook my head.
“Get your purse,” she said. “I’m driving you over there.”
I didn’t have the energy to argue. Within a few minutes, we were back in the car and Lisa was driving me to Oliver’s mansion. I had no idea what I’d do if he wasn’t there. We were silent as we drove, my nerves working up to full blast.
Her Savior Page 60
