One Night In Vegas

by Odell, Roxie

  “Has this become an annoyance for you?” she asked.

  “No, Corrine,” he said in a low, deliberate voice.

  “Well, it sure sounds like it,” she snapped, sounding more and more like Lindsay every minute.

  Derrick’s mind suddenly flashed to all those people he knew who unwittingly tumbled into the same bad relationships over and over, and he had a sneaking and frightening suspicion that he had just become one of them.

  “Look, this is getting us nowhere. We can talk when you feel better.” He rose to retreat to the other room in the suite, the place where he had slept.

  “Where are you going?” she demanded as if his departure irked her, too.

  “Back to bed,” he said. “It’ll be a little while before the places around here start serving breakfast, and my meeting doesn’t start till midmorning.”

  “Wait, back to bed?” she asked, as if it just dawned on her that they didn’t share a bed the night before. “You didn’t sleep with me?” She sounded offended.

  “I’m just trying to talk to you,” he replied.

  “What’s that got to do with anything?” she asked coldly. “I asked why you didn’t sleep with me.”

  “I thought you would sleep better if I used the other bed,” he said defensively.

  “You mean you knew you would sleep better,” she countered.

  This can’t be happening. Derrick was trying very hard not to buy into her anxiety, but he did try to put himself in her shoes. She was obviously uncomfortable, and it only made matters worse that they were in a strange place. Still, it was difficult for him to be compassionate when he didn’t really know what had her so upset.

  “I’m not actually outside that much back home, and I didn’t expect the sun to be so hot here,” she said. “I took a nap, played in the water, and even stayed hydrated.”

  “Like I said, it’s SoCal. These things happen here. Did you use sunscreen?” As soon as the words left his mouth, he realized they were a huge mistake. He could feel the wind-up for what promised to be a major bitch-out.

  First, she sucked in her breath as deeply as she could, then released one word: “Well!”

  Before any more damage could be done, Derrick sternly looked her right in the eye. “I’m not sure what’s going on here, Corrine. I have to admit that I’m totally confused. I get that you don’t feel well, but you seem really pissed about something. I’ve never seen you like this, and I don’t know why you’re acting this way. You accused me of treating you like a child, yet you’re acting like one now. You can either have a real discussion with me, like adults would, or we can shelve this.” He tried to temper his response, but there was no disguising that he was losing it. “I tried calling you yesterday, many times.”

  “I know,” she growled. “Nonstop, over and over. Every five seconds, I got a text or call from you. I was trying to rest, to relax, but after you made such a big deal about me bothering you during work hours, you kept trying to call me. I thought we weren’t supposed to contact each other.”

  Derrick blinked, unable to fathom what was happening. It was all falling apart, a complete disaster, as if he’d turned the corner and walked right into a flash flood. It took everything in him to avoid firing back with a wicked response, and he feared he might not be able to stifle it if she kept pushing. He was now pissed, too, because the only reason he had called her so much was because he was concerned and worried. She called me because she was horny, as part of her sex games. I called her because I was scared for her. There’s a huge difference, damn it!

  “You broke your own rules, Derrick.”

  “So you knew I called?” he asked in a controlled tone.

  “Of course,” she fired back triumphantly.

  “So that’s what this is about?” he asked. “I pissed you off by texting you after I asked you not to send naked selfies to me while I was trying to do business?”

  “It’s not exactly like that,” she responded.

  Derrick now suspected that she’d been upset ever since that conversation. The fact that she held on to that anger for so long, that she was still holding a grudge about it, spoke volumes. It was not what he wanted to believe, but they really had worked so well together up to that point because they’d been operating on a purely sexual, superficial level. That saddened him, because he really liked her. No, actually, I think I love her. But maybe she’s not the person I thought she was.

  He nodded and took a moment before he continued. “I can’t afford to be distracted by playful, hot pictures while I’m trying to build the foundation of a multimillion-dollar deal,” he said sternly. “How would you like it if I sat in the front row and disturbed you during a presentation for work?”

  She turned her head suddenly and scowled at him, as if the mention of her presentation, of her project, was some sort of sore spot, something she didn’t appreciate him talking about.

  “Okay,” he said. “I give up for now. I’m absolutely confused… and starving. It’s about time for me to get to work anyway. When you feel like it, you’re welcome to share with me whatever the hell is really going on.” With that, he headed toward the little side room where he had slept the night before.

  “I don’t have a presentation for you to interrupt!” she fired off behind him.

  Derrick gritted his teeth, knowing she was teasing him with partial information, trying to lure him back into the mix. He was no stranger to manipulation and negation, two things he made his living off of. He paused and thought about it. Just this once, he decided. I’ll let her get away with it just this once, and we’ll see where it goes. Then, without looking at her, he asked, “Why is that?”

  “Because I lost that client, that’s why,” she said, her tone a mixture of anger, sadness, and embarrassment.

  If she had broken that distressing news to him in a civil way, his reaction would have been far different, but at that moment, after their hostile, tense exchange, he couldn’t help but see it as another manipulation tactic. Red flags were everywhere, so many that he feared they might suffocate him.

  The worst part of it was that it all happened on a trip, so unless she packed up and went home, they would be forced to face each other until his business concluded. Even if they got separate rooms, they’d have to travel back together, and that would make for a very awkward limo and plane ride.

  “I’m very sorry to hear that,” he finally said, knowing full well that anything he said could turn out to be the wrong thing.

  “Well…” she said cryptically.

  He didn’t ask her about it, but something in her tone sounded accusatory, as if she was blaming him. He didn’t want to open that can of worms, so he tried to soften his own tone and said, “Like I said, I don’t expect today’s meeting to run as long as yesterday’s. I suspect we’ll have a lot more free time. Maybe we can, uh, work on this later, when I can focus better.”

  “Yeah, whatever. You can just walk away. It’s fine. I mean, we’re just friends with benefits, right?”

  He nodded, trying to avoid the sting of her harsh words. Such a callous remark broadsided him, and he didn’t quite know what to say about that, so he simply uttered, “Yeah, you’re right.”

  After that, she was silent.

  Derrick really did have to get going, more for his sanity than anything else. He rushed to get dressed, not because he was late but because he wanted so badly to get away from her. It felt like he had spent the morning with his ex-wife, and if he didn’t get out of there, he feared he might say something he would really, really regret.

  The car was waiting for him when he stepped out of the lobby, and Derrick tried to clear his head as he was escorted to the meeting. Soon, his second and probably his last fight with Corrine Smith would be under his belt, but he couldn’t afford to think about that right now.

  Chapter 19

  Corrine proved to be the worst kind of distraction during the meeting, even worse than if she had sent a blistering-hot, naked picture of herself.
She lurked in his head, smack dab in the middle of every thought, and it was awful. His body was tight, and his head throbbed like he had a bad hangover that he just couldn’t shake.

  No one in the meeting seemed to notice that he was enduring such torture, or if they did, they didn’t say anything about it. He functioned adequately, but his mind was in two places at once. Work was necessary, and communication and concentration were necessary for his work to be successful, so he did his best to bridge his thoughts that way.

  He was pissed and numb, but he knew once that evaporated, he would be left with his true feelings for Corrine. He couldn’t deny that he was in love with her, and it wasn’t long before his anger gave way to guilt. He felt bad for not diverting their argument.

  After all, she has to be as wiped out as I am. What the hell was I thinking, interrogating her like that? He decided during his meeting that if he was graced with a next time, he would fly them out the night before so they’d have some guaranteed time together. They had crammed so much in, leaving no time for either of them to adjust to the new environment. Of course, she got a sunburn. She’s really just a tourist here, and she couldn’t be expected to know how to handle the Southern California sun. How could I have been so rude about it?

  On a whim, during the coffee break, Derrick consulted Google in search of information about sun exposure and moodiness, hoping to connect some dots to explain Corrine’s weird, extreme change in behavior. The more he dug, though, the sorrier he was.

  Everything was such a mess. He underestimated how well she actually knew him. She was the woman who anticipated his every move in bed and at play. Together, the two of them had hoaxed his ex-wife and a team of lawyers, so of course she knew when he was pulling a fast one.

  The meeting broke briefly again a while later, with plans to resume. Derrick really didn’t want to text Corrine after the argument they’d had, but he had nothing else to do during the break. It became clear in a flash to what extent Corrine filled up his life.

  The meeting reconvened and took its normal course. It made for a very long day, filled with endless red tape and signing on various dotted lines, but it did end sooner than their work the day before, and dinner and drinks after were optional.

  Derrick called her as soon as he was free, but when he only got her voicemail, he sent her a text: “Where are you?”

  It wasn’t until he got in the chauffeured car that he saw her simple, one-word reply: “Home.”

  “Hotel home?” he sent back, his stomach sinking.

  Her response was: “Home home. Back in Paradise.”

  Derrick’s off-the-hook, once-in-a-lifetime torrid affair was over.

  Chapter 20

  When Derrick Quinn woke the next morning, he was left with all the same things he had in his life when he walked away from his marriage. When he signed his divorce papers, he felt like the freest man on the planet. Now that Corrine had gone back to Vegas without him, his life felt incredibly empty. He felt like he was being sucked down a deep bottomless drain. He could hardly function, as if he were afflicted with some dire, fatal disease. He was completely heartbroken, numb, and paralyzed. The weirdest part was that, even though it was a relatively isolated incident, in his mind, he was sure it was permanently over.

  Because he felt like he couldn’t go on, at least not for a while, it was only fair to talk to Gil about it.

  “Look, I get that she’s hot,” Gil lectured, “but this was a business trip. You promised me the two of you had a talk and that she would be fine. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have agreed to let you have a tagalong.”

  Suddenly, Derrick realized how stupid he’d been, blinded by love. Humiliated, he told Gil, “I’m not sure I’ll be of much use in any more meetings.”

  “That’s all right,” Gil said. “I can have local counsel sit in on this from here. You get on back and clear your head. Take care of yourself. I say that as your boss and your friend.”

  Derrick packed up and went home, back to his hotel room at the Tresor. He shelved the idea of getting his own place. The space would feel too empty, and at the Tresor, he could get as trashed as he wanted without having to risk driving drunk. As soon as he walked in and dumped his luggage on the floor, he drew the blinds and punished himself with a bottle of vodka.

  The vodka seemed to assault him with vicious hangovers, so it wasn’t long before he returned to his preferred poison, bourbon. He ordered Manhattans on the rocks from room service, hoping they would help him calm down. His drunken, exhausted mind rolled back, not to the first days when they met but after they got back together. Since then, every night had been a party. He didn’t want to return to the bottle again, but he couldn’t sleep without alcohol anymore, and he wondered if he had become dependent on it in the way he had become dependent on her.

  He allowed himself about a week to tie one on and get it out of his system. After he let up on the booze, the insomnia hit him with a vengeance. “Oh, well. If I’ve gotta be awake, it may as well be in sin city.”

  He became somewhat of a hermit and rarely traveled out of his room, except for casually going downstairs once in a while to spy, hoping Corrine had come to her senses. Time and time again, he failed to find her in the casino, and his heart sank lower and lower every time until he found himself completely obsessed.

  Derrick had never felt that way about any other human being before. He had family and friends, and he even thought he was in love with his wife at one point, way back in the beginning, when it at least didn’t bother him to be around Lindsay. His need for Corrine, however, was something else entirely, a complete addiction. He wasn’t too naïve to recognize that. The love he felt for her was so much stronger than he felt for anyone else, yet theirs was an arrangement that was supposed to be all fun. Nothing serious.

  Derrick was definitely screwed up in the wake of it all, and he knew any move he made now would seem hopelessly desperate, both to her and to himself. All he could really do was wait it out, but the longer he didn’t hear from Corrine, the angrier he got. She was back in Paradise, but for him, paradise was lost.

  Eventually, he stopped his hopeful field trips in search of her. He found his way back on the wagon, and he tried to take back some control, to rein in his emotions and thoughts. He had lost so much of that in his marriage, and he couldn’t bear to lose anything more, not over any woman. He put the plug in the jug and started hitting the gym, as his fitness was another thing he’d allowed to fall by the wayside. Working out became his medicine. He ran hard on the treadmill, stripping down to just his running shorts and shoes and killing it as hard as he could. He sweated out all the rage from being so pressed down by Lindsay and totally shunned by Corrine, and all that adrenaline seemed to help.

  Enough time went by that he was able to build his endurance and speed back up, and he could run about five miles a day. It cooled his temper but didn’t break it. He was still pretty numb, but at least he was functional, and that spare tire that had started to build up around his middle from the vodka-laced depression and solitude was gone. He determined that his next point of focus on his quest to reinvent himself would be to move out of the hotel. He put distance between himself and the staff he had become so cozy with, not texting them at all unless it was for strictly business purposes.

  Derrick was kicking it on the treadmill at full blast, with earbuds in his ears, when a concierge walked into the gym to fetch him. It took a moment for him to register that someone from the hotel was trying to get his attention, but he finally broke out of his heavy-metal-induced trance and killed the treadmill. “Yeah?” he said.

  “Someone is on the phone for you at the front desk,” said the concierge.

  Derrick wasn’t at all thrilled that the concierge was bothering him during a workout, but he knew the man was only doing his job, so he refrained from scolding him for it. “Who is it?” asked Derrick with strained patience.

  “It’s a woman,” replied the concierge.

  It seemed Derrick was alwa
ys on the verge of livid as of late, and it was a real struggle for him to avoid just letting the guy have it. “Did you get a name?” he asked through gritted teeth, resisting the urge to throw a dumbbell at him.

  “I asked, but she wouldn’t tell me,” the concierge said nervously. “She insisted that it is urgent and asked me to find you immediately.”

  Derrick felt bad when he realized how uneasy the man was. He didn’t like working for jerks, and he certainly didn’t want to be one. “Sorry for being a dick, buddy,” he said. “At happy hour, have a drink on me.”

  “Thank you, sir, but I don’t drink,” said the concierge.

  “Wow, good on you,” Derrick said, shocked by the existence of sobriety in such a decadent world. “Do you eat dessert?”

  “I do,” said the concierge with a cautious smile.

  “Then have one of those on me,” said Derrick. “The cheesecake is to die for.”

  “I prefer the crème brûlée,” he said sheepishly. “Or maybe just cherry pie like my grandmother used to make.”

  “Then you will have it, my friend, and make it à la mode since it’s on me!”

  The concierge nodded. “Thank you, sir.”

  “No, thank you, for doing such a great job around here, even dealing with dicks like me,” Derrick said with a grin, then gave him a firm pat on the shoulder and walked over to the phone on the wall to call the front desk. “Hey, this is Derrick Quinn. I understand you have a call for me.” He mopped his face with the towel around his neck, holding the phone between his ear and his shoulder.

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Quinn, but it seems the call dropped,” said the front desk clerk.

  “Did you happen to write down the number?”

  “It was marked private, sir.”

  “Damn,” he muttered. What had started off as a relatively good morning was now spinning him back into frustration. “Thank you. If she calls back, just let me know.”