“Well, it’s rather quite a tale of your time in Las Vegas. I have to ask, you truly don’t remember any of this happening?” He looks up from his folder and asks.
“I’ve gotten flashbacks or memories, but I’m not sure if they’re real or not.”
“This isn’t nearly as entertaining as those Hangover movies, but let’s see, where do I begin.” He says to himself flipping through his folder of paperwork.
He pulls out images from security footage and spreads it out in front of me.
She’s breathtaking. She’s wearing a short dress with killer legs and her hair is long and straight. She has high cheekbones and a straight nose, with a slight upturn, but not one to make her look snobby. She has curves that are easy to grab onto, from the looks of my hands on her and it would appear that we are quite cozy.
She is dancing on a table with a bottle in her hand. I’m standing in front of her holding out my hand to her with a smile.
Another image is with the very same woman, sitting on my lap and my head snuggling into her neck.
The other has the two of us walking out of the club hand in hand.
“This is you and the woman—”
“Does she have a name?” I ask cutting him off.
“Ah, yes. I’m sorry. Her name is Peyton Manning, she’s twenty-seven and lives in Los Angeles. And no relation to the football player.
“Peyton.” I say her name quietly, liking the way that it rolls off my tongue.
“So, Peyton and you were seen leaving the club alone. After a few dozen phone calls around the city and getting into contact with the company of the town car services, you two went to a liquor store and purchased snacks, then asked to go to one of the cities chapels.”
“Chapels? What?” My head snaps up.
“It would appear sir, that you and Peyton exchanged vows.” He thumbs through his folder and places another series of images in front of me.
The photos are grainy, but I can clearly see myself and the woman beside me leaning toward me looks similar to the woman in the photos from the nightclub. Then more images that appear to be taken from someone at the chapel, such as one of the wedding packages boasting to be professional images with us glassy eyed and looking like we’re posing for prom pictures.
We’re clearly being married by Elvis, and we have a string of witnesses in the room with us, but none of them appear to be my buddies.
What the actual fuck!
The investigator then places a marriage certificate in front of me.
“The chapel had a service where they did the filing for you. Have you checked your mail? You should have received a certified copy.”
“I have my mail held and delivered weekly. I haven’t received it yet. So, this certificate is real and not fabricated?” I ask.
“Yes, sir,” he nods.
“Shit.”
“I take it that you do not know this woman, still?” He asks placing a clear image of her on top of all the others.
“I mean, she’s vaguely familiar, but that could just be memory recognition. Is there anything else that I need to know about? Anything about her specifically?”
“She’s clean. She has no record, she comes from questionable parents, but it appears that she didn’t follow in their footprints. She has no criminal background and it would appear that you are her only husband, ever.” he smirks.
“Thank you. Are these my copies?” I ask pointing to everything that’s on the table.
“Yes sir. I included a profile to her as well, which will include contact information. Inside the folder are your whereabouts for the entire time-period that you were questioning. I spoke with employees and their statements are inside as well. I do have to say, again, that this has been a very entertaining case.”
“Yeah. Well, at least for one of us it was. Thank you though, for being so detailed with your findings as well as quick.” We both stand and shake hands.
“My pleasure. Mind if I ask, what are you going to do with all the information?”
“Marinate with it a bit before being hasty, that’s for sure.”
“Smart man. It was nice to do business with you. Should you have any additional needs, please let me know.”
I’m left alone which is exactly what I need right now.
I’m married.
I got married in Vegas!
What do I do with this information?
Chapter Five
“This one time in Vegas, my friend and I went bar hopping with a guy we met working at one of the hotels. At every bar we went to, my friend told everyone that the guy and I were newlyweds and we drank for free all night. It was even funnier because she didn't drink !”
PEYTON
“I would like for you to accompany me to Seattle for the conference,” Mr. Frederick said upon my entering his office.
He didn’t let me sit, didn’t ask how I was doing, or even a hello.
I’m frozen in place in the middle of his office, clutching onto the notepad and pen that I carried in here.
“Why?” I ask. I clear my throat and correct myself. “I’m sorry sir, I didn’t mean to sound so spoiled right there. May I ask, why you are requesting that I go over your assistant?”
“Because she is unable to attend, she has personal obligations to tend to. Plus, I feel that it would be good to finally start adding new offices. We’ve got an amazing brand, we’re well known here in California and why not tackle the Pacific Northwest?”
“You want to open up other offices?” I ask.
“It’s been an idea that I’ve been tinkering with, yes. You are the glue of this office, and I value your input.”
“Sir, I’m the office manager. I order pens and keep everyone happy.” I point out.
“Is there anything that would create an issue with you joining me on this trip? It will be Wednesday and Thursday, traveling back Friday morning and you can have Friday off?” He says ignoring my protest.
“Trying to sweeten the deal?” I smirk.
“Maybe,” he smiles.
“Fine, I’ll cancel my kickboxing class.”
“Perfect. I’ll have Dana send over travel information before the end of the day. Now, I have one more favor to ask?” He pauses and stands up.
“Sir, if this is about my social media, I promise you that I did as requested.”
“Not at all. But thank you for doing that. We’re going to need to rearrange the schedule of the Foster Family Reunion. I received a message that they are planning to change everything, including dates due to something with one of their business’s and timelines. Last minute things, can you get on the horn and make sure we have the staffing and whatnot?” He asks.
“Of course, sir. I was meaning to get in touch with graphics to make sure that we had their new logo, for branding.”
“Good, thank you. Do you need anything from me? How can I help make your job easier?” he asks.
I give him a devilish smile.
“Well, I would love to speak to you during our trip about an all staff event, you know the party planners, throwing a work party?”
His face lights up at the idea. “You know, it’s been a while since we’ve done something like that, good idea. Make a list, and we’ll discuss it during our travels.”
At home later that night, I’m packing for the trip when Quinn plops herself on my bed.
“Since when do you go on work trips? I think the most that you’ve traveled was up to San Francisco.”
“Since my boss’s assistant couldn’t go and I’m the lucky runner up,” I deadpan.
“You’d always be my first choice,” Quinn flips onto her back and says in a light tone.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” I shove socks into my bag.
“So, where are you going?”
“You will never believe it,” I stop moving around and look over to her.
“Somewhere fancy?” She quirks her eyebrow.
“Seattle.”
“Shut the front door!” Qu
inn’s mouth drops open. “Are you freaking kidding? Seattle? You and your husband will be in the same place at the same time. Are you going to go find him? What are you going to say? Oh my God, can I come?”
“Slow your roll, crazy bitch. I’m going to Seattle for work. Not on a scavenger hunt.” I laugh.
“Are you kidding? It would be more like a treasure hunt. I mean think about it, he would be a damn nice prize.” She barely contains her laughter while I roll my eyes.
“I’m not going to stalk the guy,” I say.
“He’s your husband, you have every right to.”
“He’s my husband, I don’t even know him.”
“Girl, he wrecked your lady bits. I think you know him.”
“You are infuriating,” I shake my head and continue packing.
* * *
Our Uber driver dropped us off under the beautiful arch of the Washington Convention center at 7th and Pike. I look across the street and see a grill across the way and on the other side, a Cheesecake Factory. This area looks nice and the convention center is popping with foot traffic. We walk through the doors and turn to the left to walk up the stairs, following the banners alerting us to where the convention is being held. We head up the elevators to the Sky Bridge on the fourth level, I look up at the arch overhead and gasp in the beautiful sight before me.
“This is amazing,” I gush to Mr. Frederick. He offers me a smile as we walk into the exhibit hall which is even more beautiful with the tapered block ceiling.
The day is full of walking to and from booths, mingling with other professionals in the industry. I break away from my boss and attend a catering symposium while he attends a workshop on stationary. We leave the conference towards the end of the day and I’m exhausted. All I want to do is to go back to the hotel and soak my entire body in the jacuzzi bathtub. But Mr. Frederick wanted to go to dinner across the street instead.
Thankfully after dinner, I’m back in the hotel room in record time and lounging in the large tub.
My head is leaning back on the lip of the tub, my eyes are closed, and the jets are making me feel wonderful. I’m not sure how long I sat in the swirling warmth, but by the time I’m done—I don’t even bother getting dressed and crawl into bed.
The next day is a day full of viewing properties in the downtown area and surrounding cities. At every turn, whenever I would see an attractive and well-dressed man in a suit, I would think about him.
What is he doing right now?
Where is he?
Does he know?
I won’t deny that I looked up his office building and I also won’t deny that I strategically scheduled viewings for locations around his building during the morning and lunchtime hours.
And I won’t say that every second of the time that we were in the vicinity of his building that I wasn’t looking over my shoulder just in case.
MAXWELL
I’m sitting in a window seat around the corner from the office with Cooper when I glance up and could swear that I see the woman in the photo from the Private Investigator. I watch as she and a much older gentleman walk toward the diner talking to one another and then pointing around the area. While holding property folders that I recognize from one of the realtors that I work with.
I shake my head. My eyes are playing tricks on me.
I’ve been staring at her photo and file so much that I’m seeing her here in Seattle when she lives in Southern California which is over a thousand miles away.
“What’s up with you man, you seem kind of distracted,” Cooper asks.
“Oh nothing much, just a lot going on.” I shake my head.
“Bullshit, it’s the middle of the month and you are always a lot more relaxed in the middle of the month. Spill it, tell papa what’s on your mind?” He swivels his chair and faces me.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” I shake my head.
“C’mon, tell papa.”
“Quit calling yourself ‘Papa’, it’s kind of creepy,” I push his shoulder.
“I’m not going to stop, tell me.”
“Why are you begging like you’re a gossiping teenager?” I look him over.
“I’m bored. I need to focus on something other than me, because I’m just way too fabulous and need some heartbreak. You have heartbreak written all over you.”
“Gee, thanks. I’m not talking to you, get over it.” I turn back and gaze out onto the street.
The woman that I thought was her, is now no longer in sight and I put the thought of it being her out of my mind.
“Talk to, Papa.” Cooper echoes.
“Motherfucker! Okay, so I’m married and all I can think about is her, I see her everywhere and she’s in my constant thoughts.” I say just as quickly as my thoughts run.
“No way, you got married? Congrats man!” He pats me on the back and then he has a confused look on his face. “Wait, when? Why wasn’t I there? What’s happening? I didn’t even know you were dating anyone? Who is she? When can I meet her?” He spits out.
“Whoa, calm down there Janet!” I tease him.
“Who is Janet, is her name Janet?”
“You’re impossible.”
“So, wait, you’re married? How did this happen?”
“Vegas.” I say before taking a sip of my smoothie.
“When did you go to Vegas?”
“Seriously? You were there man.”
“Um, I think that I would have remembered you getting married.”
“Funny thing about that, you were there. Not the wedding apparently, but this happened during Marcus’s bachelor weekend.”
“That hot chick?” Cooper asks.
“You remember her?” I turn to him.
“Yeah, she was quite the looker. Young, tight, and you looked like you really liked her. You guys were totally all over one another.”
“Well, so that night, I kind of blacked out and well, I got married.”
“What do you mean?”
“It means that I fucked up and got married to a perfect stranger.”
“And are you sure that it was a real marriage?” he asks.
“Why wouldn’t it be?”
“What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas.”
“How have you managed to live this long?” I shake my head.
“Good looks, a large cock, and killer stamina.” He says matter-of-factly.
“You’re a complete dick, I hate you.”
“So, how’s this working, where is she right now? All lost in your sheets and passed out?”
“Well, she lives in Los Angeles.” I tell him.
“That sounds like a shitastic marriage, when do you see her?”
“Funny story and I’m surprised that you aren’t putting two and two together.”
He shakes his head in confusion. “Not following.”
“I got married, I don’t remember it happening.” I say with finality.
“What?” he looks puzzled.
“Sometimes, I wonder why we’re friends.”
“It’s because I’m good looking, have a large cock, and great stamina,” he responds.
“None of those things would be something that would impress me,” I tell him, “this whole conversation is making my head spin. I should get back to the office.”
“But you haven’t touched your lunch,”
“I am willing to take it to go.”
I stand up and carry my bowl over to the counter, leaving Cooper confused, but he stands up anyways and follows.
“So, does this mean that we can throw you a bachelor party?” He leans in and asks.
“No, man. I’ve got to figure out my next steps. But thank you for the offer.” I lie.
I get my protein bowl packaged to go, head out of the diner, and walk towards my office building. I’m torn with what I should do.
I’ve been married for a month and only just found out. I’m confused and not sure what I should be doing. I am, however sure that I need to approach the fact that
I’m married delicately.
What the hell do I do?
Chapter Six
“ This one time in Vegas, a unicorn was my maid of honor.”
PEYTON
My two days in Seattle were nerve-racking.
Everywhere I turned while in the city, I thought that he was around. I thought that I saw him in a window at some corner diner and I thought that he was standing in front of his office building.
It was almost like looking him up before the trip was a jinx and that was all I could think about.
The trip was a success and it looks like there may be a future of an office in Seattle.
Which is ironic.
After being in Seattle and paying attention to the lifestyle that people there live, it’s faster than I’m used to.
Yes, I live in the City of Angels, but I’m not immersed in the flashy portion of it. I live in Echo Park and that’s far from Hollywood, especially if you count sitting in traffic.
But, with being in downtown Seattle, I can feel the push and pull of the city, and by internet stalking him, I can tell he wouldn’t live a slow lifestyle. Or at least, I wouldn’t expect him to. His profiles show him in dress shirts and suits. His company profile makes him look like a badass and the fact that he’s a partner, means that he’s got little time for sitting around in sweats, eating his feelings and binging on the latest thing on Netflix.
What if we met, and he learned how I wouldn’t fit into his life. How I’m too regular and not fascinating enough for a powerful businessman.
I will admit that I’m judging a book by its cover. But just by the looks, he and I are night and day.
I’m a freaking office manager for a party planning company, albeit a well-known one, but I’m an office manager. I live comfortably, sharing an apartment with my best friend. We regularly will eat a box of mac-and-cheese over a seven-course meal, hell a three-course meal, and we save up all of our money for Vegas vacations like the one we returned from recently for months.
The types of guys that I date don’t wear three-piece suits, they wear jeans with flip-flops.
What Happens In Vegas Page 4
