One Night In Vegas

by Odell, Roxie

  He flashed a set of gorgeous white teeth and walked all over her with his eyes. When he did, she felt an odd sensation of pride. She knew she looked as good as he did, if not better. The dice-player was a handsome man, despite his attitude. A perpetual, slight smile curled his lips, and there was a sparkle in his eyes, yet Corrine sensed something frightening about him, something she did not feel on that day by the pool.

  “Look, I know this is a public place, and you haven’t been evicted from this one,” she said. “You’ve got just as much right to be here as I do, but I’d really prefer it if you would stay away from me.”

  “Got it,” he said with a shrug.

  She got up from the chair, and the man let her take a few steps before he continued to talk to her, despite her request.

  “Hey, speaking of getting kicked out, how’s that boyfriend of yours?” he asked coolly.

  That question made her flinch, and the reason for her fear suddenly became clear. She was sure that the guy had something to do with Derrick’s odd disappearance, and she worried that her new husband was in serious trouble. Not only that, but once she figured out where he was and made sure he was okay, she was going to have to send herself on a guilt trip for being mad at him in the first place.

  “I don’t have a boyfriend,” she replied coldly. “I’m married.”

  “Married?” He raised his eyebrows. “Does hubby know about ol’ Rick?”

  “He does,” she rasped, her anger rising.

  “Wow,” he replied, tapping his fingertips together. “And does Rick know about your other half?”

  “Yes,” she answered.

  “Sweet. That’s quite the arrangement, and you just got a whole lot more interesting.” He flashed his teeth again.

  Corrine strode across the lobby toward the front desk, hoping to give him the hint to back off. “Did you call the manager or not?” she demanded, taking her frustration out on the desk clerk. Then, without even waiting for an answer, she turned and stormed off in the direction of the casino, in case Derrick was chained to a blackjack table again.

  The dice man continued to shadow her, though he didn’t say anything as he stayed right on her heels.

  “Get the hell away from me!” she hissed.

  “But you didn’t answer my question,” he teased.

  “What question?”

  “How’s your boyfriend?”

  She turned on her heel to face him, her lips gathering up in a snarl.

  He smirked. “This is the Bellagio, not the Tresor. You can’t have me thrown out.”

  “I absolutely can,” she said sternly, but she really couldn’t do anything to stop him from tailing her. Trying to ignore him, she headed straight for the card tables as she had a hunch she might find her man there.

  As if he felt her coming, Derrick turned his head before she even said hello. The look on his face was horrifying and sad, like nothing she’d ever seen before. “What are you doing here?” he yelled.

  “Aw, ain’t love grand?” remarked the dice man.

  Corrine’s lips puckered, but she couldn’t even utter a word.

  “Not you,” Derrick clarified, his face morphing into a complete storm. “I mean him!” He was on his feet in an instant.

  The dice-thrower shook his head slowly, silently advising him that was not such a good idea. “Just protecting my interests, buddy.”

  Corrine turned and looked at her stalker, then cast her gaze back on Derrick. An impulse rolled through her, and she suddenly commenced with belly laughing. It occurred to her that none of her encounters with the stranger were random or coincidence, and something about that seemed so ludicrous that she could do nothing but chuckle about it.

  “How long?” she asked Derrick.

  He looked at the ceiling, and everything about him resembled a strung-out addict.

  “Is this why you ran out so fast that day by the pool? You weren’t trying to act so important. You just didn’t want him to tell me. You’ve got a serious gambling problem, don’t you, Derrick?”

  “You got a smart cookie here,” said the dice-player.

  She whipped around. “How much does he owe you?”

  “Don’t say a fucking word,” Derrick said with a growl, giving the man a death glare.

  “How much have you got?” the man replied mischievously.

  “Nothing, not a dime,” she answered triumphantly. “Look, I don’t owe you shit, but if you want something, you’ll answer my question.”

  “He’s into me for thirty grand,” said the dice player.

  Corrine resisted the urge to gasp. Derrick made a lot of money, and if he was tapped out, that meant his gambling habit had been going on for far longer than she’d suspected. She surmised that it was probably why they had to come to the Bellagio in the first place, rather than remaining at the Tresor where he worked and lived. Now it frightened her even more that the bartender and Tresor staff hadn’t heard from him in quite a while.

  “Do you even have a job anymore?” she asked.

  “I do,” Derrick said, shame in his voice. “Barely.”

  “If you don’t mind, I’d like to talk to him in private,” Corrine said to the dice-player.

  “I own him,” the man spat. “Whatever you say to him, you say in front of me.”

  “Maybe you think you do, but you don’t own me,” she said, glaring at him.

  “That’s impressive, but I think I’ll stay,” he said, his eyes deep and dark.

  Corrine decided it was time to handle the situation another way. She closed in on Derrick, turning her back so no one else could hear. She whispered in his ear, which was somewhat difficult since he hadn’t bathed for a while and didn’t exactly smell deliciously musky like he usually did.

  “If you go to rehab, I’ll pay him off,” she said. “I have the house.”

  “Don’t you say another word,” Derrick ordered.

  “This is going to sound weird,” she said, resisting the urge to laugh, “but I can say whatever I want. I’m your damn wife.”

  “Yeah, that’s wild, isn’t it?” He laughed half-heartedly.

  Pressing so close to him, even under those circumstances and in all that trouble, there was still no denying the physical magnetism between them. They were made for each other, and that connection was even stronger than the stench of his body odor when he was so desperately in need of a shower. She was somewhat relieved that he found their impromptu, drunken hitching laughable, and she was sure that had loosened him up enough to convince him to let her help him, but that was simply not the case.

  “No,” Derrick said emphatically.

  “No what?” she asked, searching his eyes, pleading with him to reconsider.

  “No,” he repeated flatly. “No to helping me, and no to rehab. I got this.”

  Corrine wished more than anything that she could turn back the hands of time. She missed the days when theirs was just a whimsical, erotic adventure. At the moment, however, there was nothing romantic about their relationship, if they even had a relationship left at all.

  Chapter 30

  Derrick leaned around Corrine and spoke to the dice man. “Leave her out of this,” he snapped. “You’ll get your money, and after you do, I don’t want to ever see you again.”

  Slowly, Corrine continued to put the pieces together: Derrick’s uncharacteristic macho attitude, leaving her in a way he never had before, the stressed-out look and attitude, and the way the dice-player was all over her. It all started to make sense, but that really didn’t make her feel any better.

  “Was I supposed to be a payoff?” she asked the dice-player.

  The man’s eyes swept over her again. “You still could be,” he said suggestively.

  “Corrine!” warned Derrick.

  She made a face at Derrick like he was crazy. She was destroyed. He had a personal problem he didn’t think he could come to her with, and he wouldn’t even let her help him with it. She put her hands up, signaling for them both to stop, t
hen stormed away.

  She knew Derrick wouldn’t follow her out. Being the gambling addict he was, he wouldn’t leave the table, even if the two of them were in jeopardy. Seething about that, she requested the valet to bring her car around. She loved Derrick, but she couldn’t make him well, nor could she force him to accept her help.

  The next thing she knew, the dice-player had joined her.

  “Go away,” she said with a growl, tightening her jaw.

  It was a random, cruel thing, but as she looked the other way, clenching her jaw, she involuntarily recalled all the great moments she had shared with Derrick. It was as if a movie was playing in her mind, a series of beautiful love scenes. She could almost feel his arms around her, almost sense the warmth of his body. She was filled with a surge of amusement, though briefly, because he had always been able to make her laugh. Now, all of that seemed to be the stuff of the past, ruined by the drama of the present.

  “He doesn’t have the stones to face you, but I do,” said the dice man.

  “Who are you exactly? What are you?”

  He tilted his head at her as if she was asking a question far too obvious. “What do you think I am?” he asked. “Right now, I’m Derrick’s bank.”

  “I know that,” she said, shaking her head.

  “Then why’d you ask?” he questioned. “Hey, for what it’s worth, we mended our fences, buried our hatchets, or whatever you wanna call it. His debt’s been paid. I guess he played a nice buncha cards last night, into the wee hours of the morning. He’s winning, so that’s good for him… and me.”

  “Then what was all that about thirty grand?” responded Corrine.

  “He was into me for that much,” he said.

  The news was like a bolt of lightning. “Wait, are you saying he’s up but he’s still playing?” she demanded frantically.

  The dice-player shrugged nonchalantly.

  Corrine began to tremble, even as she tried her hardest to remain stone-faced. She didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of a reaction. “Why are you telling me this?” she asked.

  “If you don’t wanna see me again, which it appears you don’t, you gotta convince that boy to walk away from those tables, doll,” he answered.

  “Are you through?” she asked coolly as she spotted her car coming up the drive, the valet behind the wheel.

  “Yeah, sure,” he said darkly.

  Without another word to him, Corrine thanked the valet, folded herself into her car, took her high heels off, and tossed them in the passenger seat. She drove the long, teary drive from Vegas to Paradise, away from the casino and away from Derrick Quinn.

  Chapter 31

  Corrine found out the hard way that getting married for fun was really the same thing as getting married for real. She still had no idea how they’d managed to secure a license in the first place, but it all boiled down to the fact that to put an end to an official marriage, she had to officially file for divorce. As the County Records clerk had told her, a blood test was not required, and there was no waiting period required for marriage licenses in Nevada, but they still had to apply in person, and there was a lot of other red tape to deal with. She carefully reviewed websites, doing her best to interpret the legalese and jargon, and she determined there wasn’t any way they could have gone through all the proper channels. Surely, that must count for something. She hoped there’d be a loophole that would set her free.

  She contacted Graceland Chapel and practically begged them to come clean about how they pulled it off.

  “I’m sorry, but I have no idea what you’re talking about,” the so-called secretary there said. Corinne imagined a woman with a ridiculous hairdo and nails so long she could barely type the information into her computer. “We wouldn’t do anything unscrupulous. Why, that would ruin our reputation and put us out of business. Just think of all the happy couples who’d be disappointed if we couldn’t perform our wonderful ceremonies anymore! We make memories here.” Her voice was so sickeningly sweet that it practically gave Corrine a cavity through the phone.

  Not any memories I remember. Corrine hung up, now faced with the gut-wrenching reality that she was going to have to face Derrick again, just to work out their drunken mistake. She really didn’t want to talk to him right now. She was so blown away that he wouldn’t let her help him. If the situation was reversed, he would have insisted.

  She did confirm that he was finally back at work, and that gave her at least a little relief. She wrote him a formal letter, asking him to work with her to dissolve their whimsical union, but she was surprised that his response was just as businesslike, a letter he mailed back to her. Despite their status, she felt a bit of a thrill just seeing his name on the envelope addressed to her.

  She opened it and read it under her breath: “Dear Corrine, I got your letter requesting that I work with you, re: the marriage. Unfortunately, at this time, I cannot do so as I am not in agreement that this is the route we should take with the marriage. I would be happy to meet with you in person to discuss this matter, at your convenience. Sincerely, Derrick Quinn.”

  Frustrated, Corrine threw down the letter and picked up the phone. She knew it was during work hours, and she hoped he was in the middle of something, too busy to answer her.

  “You’re a lawyer!” she shouted as soon as he picked up and gave her a casual hello. “You need to fix this!”

  “And I absolutely will,” he said calmly.

  The sound of his voice weakened her, forced her to shut down her defenses. He sounded healthy and whole, like the man she’d fallen in love with. It also drummed up a deep pain, roaring like a violent sea within her and threatening to drown her. She certainly didn’t expect such a strong reaction, and she didn’t realize just how much she missed the man. It subdued her, so much so that she could barely speak. “You’ll fix it?” she rasped.

  “I will,” he said soothingly.

  “Why didn’t you say that in your letter?” she demanded.

  “I said I wanted to discuss it face to face,” he countered.

  “No! You said you don’t agree with me, that you don’t want to dissolve the marriage.”

  “And?”

  “What marriage, Derrick? We don’t even have one! We’re just… legally hitched while intoxicated.”

  He laughed. “Well, that’s just it. Legally means we are married, such as it is.”

  “You don’t want to dissolve it, but you’ll fix it?” she squawked. “What’s that supposed to mean? You’re not making any sense.”

  “Let’s work out a time to talk this out,” he said.

  “No,” she spat. “If you won’t help me, I’ll handle it myself.”

  “You don’t want to work together?” he asked.

  “That should sound familiar to you,” she snipped.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “No, I’m not going to let you help me with my problem.”

  “Ouch.”

  She wanted to ask him about his gambling, but she didn’t have the nerve, and she knew she really didn’t have room to talk. She had sworn off drinking again, ever since the night that threw her finger into that too-tight ring, but suddenly, she felt the strong need to tie one on.

  Rather than saying anything else, Corrine hung up on Derrick. She knew it was a childish move, but every word he said was like salt in a wound, hurting her deeply. She settled for casual midday clothes, just the jeans that Derrick found so irresistible that he said they made him want to bite his knuckles. Then she headed out for a couple drinks. I’ll just have one, no more than two. Maybe that was my problem before, not setting any limits. I won’t let things get out of hand again. I’ll control it this time.

  She headed to Double Down Saloon, one of the few watering holes in Paradise, a local hot spot she’d never tried before. From the pictures she’d seen online, the bar and the patrons were great, and she told herself she couldn’t possibly be an alcoholic if she was going there for the company more than the booze
. Of course, she made a point of avoiding the bright lights of Vegas, especially anywhere near the Tresor.

  Double Down reminded her of Derrick and his gambling, and that caused a momentary twinge of pain, but there was no escaping that unless she left Nevada altogether. The place was cute, and there were a few diners there to enjoy a drink and lunch. She opted to sit at the bar because that was where she felt most comfortable. She convinced herself it had nothing to do with being in closer proximity to the drinks. She also assured herself that she was nothing like those pathetic, crumpled figures leaning over the bar, staring hopelessly into their bottles and shot glasses.

  Corrine was crisp, clean, and put together, even in denim. She ran her own successful business, and until very recently, she’d managed to have a close relationship with a very successful man. She wasn’t about to concede to being an alcoholic, even if she did have a slight dependency on drinking when times got tough.

  She nursed her first drink very slowly as if to prove her point that she was cured. The longer she sat, though, the more she garnered the attention of the regulars around her. They talked to her from across the bar, and there was something warm and inviting about being there, socially accepted by a bunch of strangers at a bar in the middle of the day.

  The Double Down was a good twenty-minute drive from the Tresor. One minute, Corrine was sitting at the bar, enjoying random conversations and a drink here and there. In the next, she was confused and disoriented, being detained in the lobby of the hotel she’d haunted for so many months. It was as if she just woke up in the middle of an entirely different scene, and she had a starring role as the problem guest.

  It wasn’t long before Derrick showed up, and even from several feet away and with her eyes blurred from all the drinking she’d done, she couldn’t get over how attractive he was.

  “I want a divorce!” she shouted drunkenly.

  “I know,” he replied very patiently, stooping down to press his shoulder into her. He braced his arms around her thighs, forcing her to lean over him, then stood with ease and hauled her in a fireman’s carry to a more private area of the hotel.