All In: A Vegas Reverse Harem Romance

by Cassie Cole

  It sure feels like a date.

  Not just a date, but a great date. The best first date I’d ever been on. Normally I settled for quick hook-ups, never staying for sleep and always heading home before things got awkward. But I hadn’t wanted to leave Bryce’s apartment. There was no awkwardness this morning. Just the raw, giddy excitement of something new.

  “I don’t date,” I said out loud. “I’ve learned this the hard way.” But I failed to convince myself as I climbed the stairs to my apartment.

  The shower was running when I went inside, the door slightly ajar with steam floating out into the hall. “Angela, it’s me,” I called to my roommate so I didn’t scare her when she got out.

  “Sage! I was starting to worry.”

  I went to the door and leaned against the wall outside. “I had the most amazing time. I went home with Bryce, one of the blackjack dealers. He made me chicken carbonara! Well, he reheated some that he already had. But he made it from scratch. And he’s blond, and dreamy, and I didn’t want to come home this morning.”

  “Uh oh. Sounds like you’re breaking your rule…” she said.

  “I’m not! I’m not. I’m determined not to. This is just the fun honeymoon stage after a great night.”

  The water turned off and I heard the shower curtain pull back. I waited a few seconds to give her time to put on a towel and then stuck my head in. “I couldn’t keep my hands off him when—”

  I gave a start. Instead of Angela I was faced with a large olive-skinned man covered with black hair everywhere except where it counted, since his head was a nearly bald egg. Oh, and he was still totally nude. Dick swinging like he wasn’t shy.

  “Hi,” he said as he took his time grabbing a towel from the rack. I caught a glimpse of Angela in the shower with her own towel.

  I darted back into the hall and said, “Uh, Angela?”

  “Oh, shit! Sorry! Sage, meet Bart.”

  “It’s short for Bartholomew,” he said.

  “Nice to meet you. Sage, we can finish this conversation when we’re alone.”

  “Do not mind me,” Bart said. “This Bryce sounds nice. Heh, I made a rhyme.”

  I quickly slipped into the kitchen to make myself some coffee.

  Bart lingered way too long grooming himself and getting dressed before he and Angela finally said their goodbyes at the door. “Nice to meet you Sage,” I heard him call from the other room.

  Angela came back to the kitchen with a silly grin on her face. “Well? Isn’t he something?”

  “Yeah,” I said. “He’s something alright.”

  “He’s part owner of a club down in Henderson. We got all the special treatment. Oh Sage, you should have been there!”

  “I had to work, remember?” I said.

  “Oh right. Sorry about leaving. You get back okay?”

  “I did,” I said. Part of me wanted to chew her out for abandoning me without a ride, but in a funny way she was responsible for the whole thing. If I hadn’t have been late I wouldn’t have gotten Bryce’s sympathies for getting chewed out, which is what led to us bonding over our post-shift bottle of liquor…

  “So, Bart,” I said. “You really do have a type, huh?”

  She held her chin up high while going into her bedroom. “What can I say? I like them hairy.”

  I got in the shower next but there was only 30 seconds of hot water, which caught me halfway through washing my hair. There was nothing worse in the world than taking a cold shower, but I suffered through it until I had all the shampoo and conditioner out of my hair. I was in too good of a mood this morning to let a bad shower put me down.

  Angela and I exchanged details of our nights while I dried and then curled my hair. I tried to ignore all the graphic details she gave about Bart. Honestly, who found body hair attractive?

  It was a gorgeous day with the sun shining, which was good since I had three miles to walk to my singing lessons. Michel was a tiny shriveled man with a full head of luxurious white hair, like a Q-tip in designer clothes. He greeted me at the front door of his house and kissed me on both cheeks before inviting me in with an almost comically dramatic voice.

  As we always did before lessons, he served hot tea without sugar to help warm up the throat. As soon as we sat down with our tea he asked, “And how was last night’s performance, darling?”

  I couldn’t hold back my excitement as I told him that I crushed it. He grinned from ear to ear with genuine enthusiasm as he listened to me go through each song I performed and how the crowd reacted to each.

  Singing lessons were at the top of my budget prioritization. Michel gave me a discount since he’d been a friend of my mom, but it was still a luxury on the edge of what I could afford. I needed them if I was going to improve, though. Michel helped me go up and down the notes, stretching my range a little bit each time. After several months of coming here I could sing a much greater variety of songs than I could when I began. He also kept me sharp, pointing out areas where I was getting lazy or not utilizing my diaphragm enough.

  He also had his own private studio, complete with padded foam walls and recording equipment. “I want you to hear how you sound,” he said, instructing me to sing Crazy Little Thing Called Love. When I was done he pulled me over to the equipment room behind the glass and played back what I’d just sung.

  “Wow, I sound great!” I said. In all our practice sessions he’d never recorded me.

  “Indeed you do, darling. If you shore up the remaining three or four songs in your repertoire I think you’re ready to record an album.”

  My jaw dropped. “You really think so?”

  “Absolutely. Let me know when you want to get that recording time scheduled with me and I shall block off the studio for you.”

  My pride was replaced by a dagger of despair. “Yeah, absolutely. I’m working on saving up the money. Should just be a week or two.”

  “Of course. Keep practicing, darling!” He kissed me on both cheeks and bid me farewell, oblivious to my dilemma.

  *

  Working the early afternoon shift at the casino had its ups and downs. The Volga wasn’t dead, but it was downright placid compared to the evening rush. Sometimes it was nice to have a less crowded shift where I could relax and take my time taking drink orders. But that also meant fewer and smaller tips. The orders I took were more coffee and soda than whiskey and beer.

  I didn’t know what I was going to do about Michel’s offer. I was already stretching myself thin just to pay for our twice-a-month singing lessons, and the recording fees—even heavily discounted ones—were an order of magnitude higher. I was months away from having that kind of cash. Longer, even.

  And I still didn’t have a car, and I needed a second dress for singing gigs because I couldn’t keep wearing the same one every time, and…

  I shook my head. I couldn’t do this. Going through all the things I couldn’t pay for was a quick way to end up crying in the supply closet while waiting for a drink order to come out.

  Instead, I focused on the positive. For one thing, Zeke wasn’t at the casino yet, so nobody could chew me out about my wardrobe or enthusiasm while I did my job. I was getting better and better at singing. I was progressing forward with my dream, even if it was one inch at a time. If mom was here she’d tell me to be patient and to keep grinding away.

  I was halfway through my shift when Bryce arrived.

  I caught a glimpse of him across the casino. Even wearing the same black pants and dark vest as all the other card dealers he stood out like a beacon of blond light. He entered the card pit and spoke to the pit boss before replacing one of the other dealers at a table.

  I eyed him as I made my way along the ring of card tables, taking orders as I went. It took four more rounds before I made it to his table.

  “Drinks?” I asked. “Drink orders, anyone?”

  One Pepsi—not Coke, Pepsi, the woman insisted—and two waters. Another order that wouldn’t result in any tips. But Bryce gave me a wink
and a smile as I left, and that sent my heart fluttering all the way back to the bar.

  Shit. I was going to break my rule, wasn’t I?

  Breaks weren’t scheduled into a waitress’s shift, but there was a general understanding that we could take one or two breaks per shift so long as it wasn’t abused. I waited until Bryce took his break to take my own, quickly delivering the last two bottles of water to a table of single-deck blackjack before following him to the back.

  He was far ahead of me in one of the back halls, too far to call out to get his attention. I followed him through the locker room and past the kitchen until we came to one of the service entrances where trucks could deliver supplies. I pushed the door open and exited into an alley filled with dumpsters and air conditioning units.

  Before I could go any further I heard two voices instead of just one.

  “Are you sure?” said an unknown voice.

  “As sure as I’m gunna be,” said Bryce. “Seriously, she’s great.”

  Aww, he’s talking about me. I normally didn’t like eavesdropping but I couldn’t help but stand there in the doorway listening to the voices on the other side of the dumpster.

  “If you’re sure…”

  “I am,” Bryce said. “I have the ring. I’m going to ask her tonight.”

  My heart sank. A ring. He was going to ask a girl to marry him. Which meant what happened with me last night was just a quick fling before he surrendered himself to monogamy.

  Rage and hopelessness and betrayal filled me. Worse, I didn’t have any right to feel that way. I was the one who’d told him I didn’t date. I was the one who insisted on avoiding relationships because they got in the way of my dreams. Bryce had taken me at my word.

  “You want us to be there?”

  “I think so,” Bryce said. “She’s more likely to say yes if there’s other people there.”

  “Alright, if you’re sure…”

  “I am. I knew it the moment I laid eyes on her.”

  “What’s her name?”

  “Sage Parker.”

  If my head could have exploded, it would have. I think I blew a fuse when I heard my name in this context. Sage Parker. That was me. I was that girl they were discussing. Bryce wasn’t talking about proposing to some other girl. He was talking about proposing to me.

  “Huh, cool name. I’ll look her up.”

  “She’s one of the waitresses working tonight. I’ll point her out when we’re back inside.”

  Holy moly. He was going to propose to me. It was impossible not to feel the briefest glimmer of excitement… And then it all came crashing down.

  I’d just met this guy last night.

  We barely knew each other.

  We’d had a quick fling.

  This was insane.

  Being a little bit clingy could be cute, especially if the guy was totally hot, but this was in another league. Proposing to a girl a day after you met her was the kind of thing psychopaths did. Nobody who was in a healthy mental state did that.

  And just like that my opinion of Bryce went from an adorable hookup to a potentially dangerous stalker type. Suddenly I was afraid of what he would say when I rejected him. There was nothing sexy about being strangled to death and buried in the desert.

  I thought I had a good thing. I quickly went back inside before they could catch me eavesdropping.

  6

  Sage

  Why were the cute ones always crazy?

  I was back making the rounds when Bryce and his friend emerged from the employees only section. The other man was a security guard in a suit, dark and handsome like James Bond. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Bryce point me out to him.

  Shit. I was totally going to get murdered and dragged out to the desert, wasn’t I?

  “Drinks?” I said with only a little bit of worry in my voice. “Drink orders?”

  Alright Sage, let’s just calm down a minute. Sometimes totally normal people did totally crazy things. Dropping me off at my apartment and then going straight to a jeweler to buy an engagement ring after one date was almost adorable. It didn’t necessarily mean he was crazy. And even if he was crazy, that didn’t mean he was dangerous. Maybe if I let him down gently he’d understand and go about his life.

  But he’d admitted he had an addictive personality. Those weren’t the types of people to just let things go.

  The rest of my shift was spent in dread. I tried my best to avoid his table, but eventually I had to take drink orders there. Now the smile he gave me was less charming and more creepy, even though it was on that incredibly handsome face. It felt like there was a giant clock counting down until my doom.

  I saw it coming a mile away. I was almost done with my shift, and as I came back onto the casino floor with a tray of drinks he perked up from the card pit. He made a bee line toward me, weaving in and out of the growing patrons wandering through the slot machines.

  “Hey there, beautiful,” he said.

  “Hi yourself.”

  “I wanted to talk to you about something,” he said. “Want to get a drink tonight? Private, not in the back pantry.”

  Somehow I kept my voice from quivering as I asked, “What do you want to talk about?”

  “You’ll see. It’s not a quick conversation. I promise it’s not a date.” He flashed me that smile. That charming, warm, and totally disarming smile. For a second it was easy to forget that he was bat-shit crazy.

  I put my tray down on top of a trash can and pulled him over to a secluded doorway. “Listen. Last night was fun, and you’re a great guy…”

  “Wait a second,” he said with a grin. “This sounds like the breakup talk. But it can’t be since we’re not actually dating.”

  “I just don’t want you to get the wrong idea,” I said. “I was being totally serious when I said I don’t want a relationship.”

  “I know,” he said. “What I want to talk to you about is totally platonic.” He put his hand over his chest. “Cross my heart, hope to die.”

  He seemed like he was telling the truth. Which meant he was very good at lying. That scared me more than what I’d overheard.

  “So,” I said, “you’re not going to propose to me or anything, right?”

  He laughed. Not out of nervousness, but out of the sheer ridiculousness of my statement. “No offense, Sage, but I don’t propose to women after one night together.” He leaned in close. “No matter how good it was.”

  It caught me totally off guard. I expected that to elicit some sort of reaction from him but he didn’t even flinch. I wasn’t sure what to say now, so I said, “Umm, I get off my shift in 10 minutes.”

  “Perfect, I’ll be waiting by the employee entrance.”

  I was in such a daze as I left him that I returned to the card tables empty handed, then had to rush back to retrieve my tray of drinks from where I’d left it. What the hell was going on?

  When my shift ended I returned to the women’s locker and changed into my street clothes. I didn’t have to meet Bryce. I could exit through the gaudy front door to the casino, getting lost in the throng of customers. I couldn’t avoid him forever, but a few days apart might be enough to defuse this crazy bomb.

  But part of my brain insisted he wasn’t crazy, that he was totally legitimate. That I was the crazy one somehow. In the end, that part won out and forced my feet to meet him at the employee entrance.

  “You look even better in jeans and a T-shirt than you do in a cocktail dress,” he said as a greeting.

  I couldn’t help but smile. “You’re not so bad yourself. Where are we going?”

  He drove me a few miles off the main strip, just long enough for me to start getting worried about my well-being, before parking at a small diner built out of an old trailer. It was completely dead except for one table occupied by two other guys, one of whom ended up being the security guard I’d seen Bryce with earlier. The other guy wore a cowboy hat.

  “Guys, this is Sage,” Bryce said. “Sage, this is Xander an
d Eddie.”

  Eddie rose and shook my hand. “I’ve seen you around the casino,” he said in a deep, baritone voice. He had a thin beard along his jaw and lips like Bryce, but his hair was jet black with a few highlights mixed in. His green eyes looked like they held a secret as he sat back down and adjusted his dinner jacket.

  “I haven’t seen you,” Xander said in a southern accent, “but you might’ve seen me. I’m at the Volga’s secondary stage every night this month.”

  He wore jeans and a tight-fitting T-shirt, and I caught a glimpse of some expensive looking cowboy boots under the table as he shook my hand and sat back down. I didn’t recognize him at first, but when I did my jaw hung open.

  “You’re the singer!” I said. “The country music singer at the Volga!”

  He looked at Eddie. “Isn’t that what I just said?”

  “I’ve been listening to you on my shift at work,” I said. “You’re good!”

  He tipped his tan cowboy hat at me. “Thank you, ma’am.”

  As we sat down I remembered why we were here. She’s more likely to say yes if there’s other people there. So far this was playing out exactly like the conversation in the alley.

  My heart began to race and I felt sweat forming on my temple. The lights in the room became brighter like I might faint. Shit, was I having a panic attack?

  “I can’t marry you!” I blurted out.

  The three of them looked at me like I’d spoken Greek. Eddie leaned forward and said in a deep rumble, “Do you have some form of tourette syndrome, but instead of curse words you say random sentences?”

  I turned to Bryce. Everything came out in a rush. “I overheard what you two discussed in the alley. About how I’m the one and you have the ring and everything. I can’t marry you. Last night was fun, so much fun, and you’re a great guy but I just can’t move that fast with anyone, even if they were the most perfect man in the world.”

  Bryce looked horrified, but Eddie doubled over with laughter and pounded the table with his palm so hard the silverware bounced up and down. Xander looked back and forth, confused. The waitress, who had been on her way over to take our drink orders, promptly turned on her heel and went the other way.