“Is today your day off?”
“Well, this week.” I turned off the shower. “It’s today and tomorrow.”
He pulled open the shower door. The left side of his face was shaved clean, and the right was covered in shaving cream.
“You never get two days off in a row,” he said.
I squeezed the water out of my hair. “I know.”
He handed me a towel. “Let’s go to Las Vegas.”
“Are you serious?” I asked excitedly.
“I don’t have anything to do today or tomorrow. Tomorrow night, I have a late meeting. Actually, it’ll be really late meeting. There are flights out every ninety minutes. Let’s go.”
“I’ve never been.”
“All the more reason to go.”
I’d never taken an impulsive trip in my life. As far as I was concerned, going to Vegas for two days in the middle of the week was the epitome of excitement.
“Let’s do it,” I said.
* * *
The Uber driver stopped in front of the hotel and rushed to open my door. I stepped onto the sidewalk and gawked at the sight of the hotel, a curved structure that reached for the cloudless sky above.
“This is amazing,” I murmured. “I’ve never seen a hotel like this.”
“Wait until you see the inside,” he said.
The hotel’s lobby was an architectural masterpiece. A combination of contemporary sculptures fashioned of polished stainless-steel, wooden structures, and fresh floral arrangements tickled my senses of sight and smell.
In the background, slot machines, the shouts of gamblers winning, and techno music from a distant club satisfied my ears.
A graceful man in a tailored suit approached us. His skin was tan, and his dark hair was gelled to sculpted perfection.
“Good morning Mister Silva,” he said. “Welcome back.”
Mister Silva?
“This is Reggie,” Tito said.
The man shook my hand while offering a toothy smile. “Pleasure to meet you, Reggie. I hope you enjoy your stay at Aria.”
“Thank you.”
He handed Tito a small envelope. “We have you in Sky Suite 62101. Let me get someone to help you with your bags.”
“That’s quite alright,” Tito said.
The man gave a sharp nod. “Let me know if there’s anything else you need.”
“Thank you,” Tito said.
The man offered a smile and then disappeared through the sea of people gathered around the reception desk.
I faced Tito. “Mister Silva?”
“We come here quite a bit,” he said with a laugh. “One of the guys in the MC has a little bit of a gambling problem.”
“Oh. Well, I guess spending money here has its benefits, huh?”
He reached for our bags. “I suppose so.”
After taking a sixty-two-story ride on an elevator so fast that my ears popped, we arrived in our room. He handed me the key card and nodded toward the door.
“After you.”
I swiped the card and eagerly opened the door.
I was met by a travertine tile floor, lengthy corridor, and a beautiful view of the distant mountains. The aroma of fresh flowers lingered in the air. I wandered into the room taking one thing in at a time.
The bathroom was larger than my living room, and included a separate shower, tub, and jacuzzi. The closets were large enough to sleep in. A living room with two sofas, a big screen television, and ample room for guests was next, followed by a large master bedroom with a view of the mountainous horizon. Beyond the bedroom, another living room, situated at the corner of the room.
With a breathtaking view of the mountains through one of the walls of glass and clear sight of the infamous Las Vegas strip through the other, the room was staggeringly large.
I gawked out the windows for a moment before facing Tito. “This. Is. Incredible.”
He peered through the glass, toward the busy street below. “It’s a nice view, for sure.”
“Would it be childish if I took pictures?” I asked. “To show my dad?”
“Not at all.”
I took pictures of the pillows, tile floor, breathtaking views, the chocolate on our pillows, and of the bathroom. Pictures of the living room furniture followed, as did a few of the fresh flowers that were placed in vases on every flat surface of the room.
“I don’t even know if I want to leave the room,” I admitted.
“I think once you see a few of the things this place has to offer, you’ll change your tune.”
“I doubt it.”
* * *
Without taking a single step outdoors, we wandered amongst the most exquisite shops in existence. BVLGARI, Valentino, Louis Vuitton, Gucci, Harry Winston, Tom Ford, Cartier, Prada, Hermes, and Christian Louboutin were all within eyeshot. It was a shopper’s paradise, and I was right in the middle of it.
“I love window shopping,” I said. “This is going to be awesome.”
“We aren’t window shopping,” he said flatly.
My heart sank. Vegas was known for the gambling, but I wat least wanted to wander past a few of the shops before we started plunking money in slot machines.
“Can we go past that one?” I asked, pointing to Christian Louboutin. “I want to just look at their shoes. You know, the red-bottoms?”
“Sure,” he said. “We can go in any of them you like.”
“I thought we weren’t—”
“We’re not window shopping,” he said. “We’re shopping for real.”
I coughed. “I work at The Buckle. I can’t afford a pair of socks in that place, let alone—”
He waved his hand from the fat left to the far right. “Anything you want is yours.”
The thought of it was exciting. Obviously, he’d never stepped foot in such places. “You can’t say that,” I gasped. “These places aren’t like the mall I work in. This is the crème de la crème.”
“Listen,” he said, facing me. “I know where we are, believe me. I live in a modest home that I paid cash for, I’ve worked hard for years, and I have roughly three hundred dollars a month in expenses. The rest, I save. I’ve saved for a reason. To spoil the woman I love. You’re that person.” He kissed me. “Let’s have fun, shall we?”
How could I argue with that response?
Upon stepping into Christian Louboutin, we were greeted by a gorgeous woman with jet black hair, a perfect figure and pearly white teeth. “Welcome to Christian Louboutin. How can I help you?”
“I’d like to try on a pair of your Pigalle pumps,” I replied. “In black.”
“What size?”
“Eight and a half,” I whispered.
“I’m Taylor,” she said.
“Reggie,” I said. “And he’s Tito.”
She smiled. “Love the name.”
“Thank you.”
When she walked away, Tito looked at me and smirked. “You know the names of the shoes?”
“Listen,” I said. “Guys dream of golf clubs, Porsche go-fast cars, and new Harley-Davidsons. Girls dream of diamonds, shoes like these, and nice handbags. Do you know the name of your dream Harley?”
“CVO Street Glide Special,” he said.
I wagged my eyebrows. “Point proven.”
The lady returned with the shoes in no time, opened the box, and unwrapped one of the shoes. I took it from her, using caution not to smudge the shiny black leather with my fingertips.
After fitting both the shoes to my feet, I stepped in front of the mirror. As I imagined, they looked marvelous. I quickly turned away, lifting my foot in the process. A quick glance over my shoulder allowed me to catch a flash of the red bottom as I walked away.
“The Copte flats would look adorable with those jeans,” she said.
“I’m not familiar with them.”
“Let me grab a pair,” she said.
With reluctance, I put the pumps in the box and pushed it to the end of the bench. They were classic Loubout
in and exquisite in all respects, but they we’re impractical.
She returned in a flash with the cutest pair of sandals I’d ever seen. A quick stroll through the store, and I was in love, but the seven-hundred-dollar price tag was, once again, impractical.
When I returned where she and Tito were talking, she greeted me with a smile. “What did you think?”
“They’re really comfortable, I just don’t need a pair of sandals right—”
“We’ll take them both—” Tito said.
She shifted her eyes from me to Tito. “The Pigalle, and the—”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Very well then.” She glanced at each of us “Would either of you like a chilled bottle of Perrier?”
“Sure,” I said.
“Yes. Thank you,” Tito replied.
She disappeared into the back of the store. I couldn’t believe my dream of one day owning a pair of red-bottoms was actually going to come true.
I looked at Tito. “Are you sure you can afford this?”
“Like I said a minute ago,” he replied. “Anything you want on this trip, you’ll get. Nothing’s more important to me than seeing you happy.”
I kissed him and then pulled away. “Burn this image into your brain,” I said. “because what you’re seeing right now defines happiness.”
We left the store and went into Gucci, which was right across the hallway. After perusing the handbags, we wandered to Prada. Then, Valentino.
Going from shop to shop, I felt like Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman. At first, I reluctantly looked at a few things. Then, after Tito bought everything I looked at, I realized I had to be vocal about what it was that I was actually interested in.
Four hours later, we wandered toward our hotel with our arms weighted down with bags. As we passed Harry Winton’s jewelry shop, Tito gestured toward a lighted display of diamond rings with his eyes.
“One of these days we’ll have to go in there.”
My heart raced at the thought. “Not now, but I’d love to peek in there one day.”
He paused. “Let’s go.”
I lifted my right arm. Three bags dangled from the ditch of my elbow. “Not now. Let’s put this stuff in the room.”
“Whenever you’re ready,” he said. “Let me know. It doesn’t hurt to look.”
After putting everything in the room, we returned to the casino. Unlike the casino I’d been in while in Reno, Nevada, this one was clean and smelled wonderful. My feet didn’t stick to the floor, the slot machines weren’t littered with ashtray, and there were options for as far as the eye could see in any direction.
“This is overwhelming,” I said. “Too many options.”
“Have you ever shot craps?” he asked.
“No,” I replied. “I’m scared to. Everyone’s always screaming.”
He tilted his head toward the center of the casino. “There’s a table over there that’s empty. It’s easy.”
“Explain it to me.”
“They give you the dice. You roll two of them. If you roll a seven or eleven, you win. Roll a two, three, or twelve, and you lose. If you roll any other number, it becomes your point. If you roll a point, you continue to roll until you roll your point, or a seven. From the time you roll your point, you can place bets on the table of any possible number coming up, all of which pay the odds of that number being rolled.”
I thought for a moment. “Well, there’s six ways to roll a seven, and one way to roll a two or twelve. Two ways to roll a three. Two ways to roll an eleven. That makes sense.”
“You’re good with numbers,” he said with a smile.
“Much better with numbers than I am with throwing razors.”
“Want to try?”
“Sure.”
Fifteen minutes later, I was up five hundred dollars, and the table was filled with people betting on my newcomer’s luck. One of them was an elderly man names Mel. He smelled like Old Spice and his hands shook terribly, which seemed to make him feel ashamed.
“C’mon,” Mel said, nudging away a potential player with his wiry shoulder. “Give the lady some room.”
He was dressed in a pair of brown polyester slacks from yesteryear, an eye-watering yellow and red geometric pattern button-down short sleeved shirt, and a pair of wingtip shoes, all of which he assured us were good luck charms.
“Five hundred dollar hard ten,” he said, tossing five one-hundred-dollar chips in the center of the table.
“Five hundred dollar hard ten,” the man on the other side of the table said, confirming the bet.
I counted my chips, and then tossed out two fifty-dollar-dollar chips. “A hundred bucks, same bet.”
“A hundred for the lady. Hard ten.”
Rolling a six and four combination was called an easy way, because there were two ways to do it. A hard ten was a five and five. It was described as hard because there was only one way to do it, making it harder than the other way.
With a point of eight, I chose two dice, and rolled them.
“Six,” the man declared.
After the bets were paid, he pushed the dice my direction once again. I leaned over the table and blew on them before I tossed them.
They hit the edge, bounced, and came to a stop, five and five facing up.
“Yay,” I shouted. “Look, Mel. A hard ten.”
The man tapped the stick in front of me. “Seven hundred.”
The man who paid the bets slid me seven hundred dollars in chips.
He tapped the stick in front of Mel. “Thirty-five hundred.”
“Holy cow,” I said. “You’re doing good.”
He patted me on the shoulder. “We’re doing good.”
“We sure are.”
He leaned away from the table and looked at Tito. “It’s going to be a long night, Teebow.”
Tito didn’t bother correcting him. He just smiled. “That’s what we came for.”
We stayed at the table for two hours, gambling like we were made of money. Mel made up for his week’s losses and thanked us when we left, giving me a one-hundred-dollar tip for my efforts.
Then, we ate as if calories didn’t exist.
Afterward, we danced in the nightclub like tomorrow would never come. The next morning, we had breakfast in bed, then went to see the sights of the strip. In all the excitement, seeing the sights, shopping, gambling, and eating, we never once took time to make love.
Despite that fact, I had the time of my life.
Depressed that we had to leave, but excited to continue our adventure together, I boarded the plane convinced that Tito was the answer to my dreams. It had nothing to do with money or lavish gifts, and everything to do with how being in his presence made me feel.
I went to work the next day wearing my new Louboutin sandals. Upon seeing me walk into the store, Raymond immediately recognized them.
His covered his mouth with his hands. His eyes darted to the shoes. He lowered his hands. “Tell me those Copte Passementeries are real.”
“If they’re not, I think Tito paid too much.”
He looked up, and then stole another quick glance of the pale-yellow flats. “He bought those for you?”
“Believe me,” I said with a sigh. “This wasn’t all be bought.”
He flipped his hair away from his eyes. “No?”
“Not at all. We went on a two-day get anything you want shopping spree in Las Vegas.”
“Oh. My God.” He gasped. “I love that man.”
I smiled. “That makes two of us.”
30
Tito
So far, our survey of the gold dealer’s shop had produced nothing. Behind a locked steel door at the rear of the facility was the last place to look.
Using nothing more than the illumination from the distant streetlights that filtered through the storefront windows, Ally fidgeted with the lock for roughly ten seconds.
She glanced over her shoulder, turned the handle and pushed the door open. “Cross your fi
ngers.”
Frozen in place, Baker, Cash and I gawked at the sight.
Prepared for their worldwide debut—which was in two days—the coins sat in the dimly lit room, spread out amongst six folding tables. As they were situated before us, neither their rarity nor denomination was known. The sheer quantity, however, was staggering to say the least.
Baker exhaled. “Holy—”
“Shit,” I said, finishing his thought.
Baker glanced in Ally’s direction. “Get the car ready. We’ll get everything to the back door. I’ll give the signal when we’re done.”
Ally had already turned away. “One step ahead of you, Boss.”
“We good, Goose?” Baker said into his Bluetooth device.
“This town’s dead,” Goose responded, seeming bored with his rooftop position as the night’s sentry.
As Cash rushed toward the display of coins, I quickly surveyed the room. Flat steel boxes were neatly positioned along the wall opposite the coins. Together, Baker and I sauntered in that direction. Upon reaching them, Baker leaned over and opened one.
His eyes went wide. “Jackpot.”
“What?” I asked.
He gestured toward the hidden contents. “Look at this.”
I peered over his shoulder and into the box. A blue felt display housed more than two dozen diamond rings. Each were breathtaking in their own regard.
Baker glanced at his watch. He touched his earpiece with his index finger. “I want to be gone at zero-three-seventeen. We’re going to need all the help we can get. Goose, abandon your post and get in here.”
We used Bluetooth to communicate amongst ourselves when we worked together. Using our real names wasn’t a worry, as the transmissions weren’t able to be heard by anyone who wasn’t linked to the Bluetooth devices.
Communicating off-site—typically with Reno—was different. Bluetooth wouldn’t travel the distance needed. In lieu of using phones, a two-way radio was chosen. As the radio transmissions could potentially be heard by others, codewords and fictitious names were used.
Tito Page 18