He wouldn’t let her leave just as much as she didn’t want to leave. However, she never lied to him about being married, which was probably all the more alluring for him. He knew he couldn’t have her, and that made this Brazilian all the more plucky.
***
7 a.m. rolled in, and the slot machines weren’t getting any quieter. In fact, they were so loud, I was surprised I could think at all, but I shuddered at having to speak to Leo’s friend who clearly felt he should be entertaining me. He was shorter than the other small boy, with a rugged Che Guevara look that I would never tell him about, because I was sure that’s whose look he was trying to emulate.
The more I looked at either of them the younger they seemed. Tugged tightly around his pudgy neck was a hemp necklace with some type of bead fixed in the center. These were rich boys dressed down to appear more reckless and nonchalant than they actually were. Vegas wasn’t backpacking in Europe, however, and they seemed out of place in the neon and glitter. They were probably staying with their parents in a top suite at the Wynn Hotel and had never tasted tap water.
I sat at the penny slot machine - one of the last of its kind - and hoped he noticed how intently I was placing each copper coin in the sliver, staring down the tormented twirling cherries and dollar signs - a clear indication of wanting to be alone. He didn’t. Every five minutes, after getting bored of circling the casino, he popped his head over to me and got way too close for comfort.
“So, what is up?” he said in his thick Brazilian accent.
I wasn’t in the mood for niceties, small talk or any type of conversation that didn’t have to do with putting my head on a pillow. The night had turned sour and I was getting pissed off.
“Nothing is up since the last time you walked over here and asked me that question. It’s seven in the morning. I’m tired. I can’t go home because my best friend is talking to your small friend, and a little help would be nice in trying to ply his hands off her legs,” I said right back in his face. I hadn’t meant for it to come out that harshly, but I hadn’t really meant for it not to come out that harshly either. I was past caring what either of these guys thought. We would never see them again, and perhaps since Chelsea was being blinded by her hope, she didn’t realize the insignificance of tonight on their lives. I felt like a grumpy, cynical, old woman but I had seen (and experienced) this whole act a million times before.
“Our friends, they have fun. We should have fun too,” Che said, sitting down on the circular seat next to mine.
“I wouldn’t bother sitting there. I don’t want to have fun with you. Go find another girl to have fun with - there are a million who will put out.”
“You are sharp like knife.”
“That’s right. I am sharp like knife. Goodbye.” I hoped that would give me at least ten minutes this time.
I watched Chelsea out of the corner of my eye. Her hair slightly in her face, her cheeks a bit rosy, her eyes shifting from the white spot on the deserted blackjack table back to this Leo’s tiny face. She shook her head, rolled her eyes, and laughed. The torn napkin ring that I had seen the small boy making for her, hours before, replaced her wedding ring. It now had stains of rum and whiskey and was becoming more tattered each time she twisted it around her finger obliviously. I pleaded with my eyes for her to turn my way and see my despair and boredom. Unfortunately, my lame attempt of subliminal messaging could in no way compete with his brash and gallant dropping to his knees gesture. He was pulling out everything he had…for the fifteenth time.
I had had enough. It was now 7:30 a.m., and Easter Sunday. I had completely forgotten it was Easter Sunday! We were supposed to have brunch with my uncle at noon. Our way of thanking him for letting us stay. I got out my phone and sent him the most sober text I could come up with - ‘Running behind. Can push to 2 p.m. for brunch? Love, Adele.’
As soon as I sent it I wondered if he knew how to check text messages. Then again, I wasn’t going to call my uncle in this state either. I was a big girl, I would just show up when we got home and write him a plain, old-fashioned note.
I had had enough. And I really meant it this time. I shoved my last penny in the slot, yanked the lever down, watched myself lose, gulped the last of my vodka soda and marched determinedly towards the lovely, doting, platonic couple. He was still on his knees. Not caring that I may have looked like a scary teacher/matriarch who had just finished a porn shoot, I grabbed Chelsea by the arm, lifted her up off the chair, pulled her face towards mine and whispered ‘We need to go NOW’ as forcefully as I could without harming her in any way. She looked up at me with a blank expression, her eyes lost and sentimental. More words would be squandered on her. I had to go to my last resource - talk to the small man.
“You seem like a really nice [small] man, and I know you both are having a heart to heart, and it seems like the most important thing in the world right now, but today is Easter and Sweet Mary and Joseph, I love Jesus Christ! And if I don’t go home and get to sleep than I will miss this most special day, and you wouldn’t want to take that away from me, would you? Let’s all go to sleep, regroup and we’ll meet up tomorrow when we are refreshed - K?” I turned into a middle aged woman from Tuscaloosa, Alabama.
Jesus couldn’t be mentioned without a Southern accent, it was impossible. I hoped my lie wouldn’t seem too farcical, but it was the only thing I could think of. I just prayed Chelsea wouldn’t say anything. I was right, her mind was far, far away.
If Chelsea really did want to see him in the morning, or rather, the afternoon, once the alcohol had worn off and she had taken a shower, then I secretly pledged to take her to him.
It worked. She pried her skinny legs off the round stool, and I shepherded them to the front of the casino. Leo held her arm as she said her goodbyes, him trying once again to kiss her, and she turning her head away to dart the Brazilian’s massive lips. They both waved at each other, backing away slowly, sheepishly promising calls and keeping in touch.
Did I see tears in his eyes? Vegas’s powers were stronger than I had thought. I finally got her into a taxi with me, and we were off.
The moment the taxi door shut and the address divulged, Chelsea said, “I can’t believe you tore me away from him.”
“You can’t believe I tore you away from him? Chelsea, I’ve been waiting by the slot machines for five hours,” I said, restraining myself as best as I could.
“The one moment I’m having fun and you can’t bear to see me having a better time than you.”
“You’re right. I couldn’t bear it,” I said. I saw where this argument would be going, and I had no interest in letting it all come out at this moment. I kept my wits for now.
“We need to have each other in our lives. He’s really amazing. You have no idea wha -”
“I have no idea what? What?” I asked, keeping my eyes out the window away from her.
“Oh shut up. You’re such a bitch!” My head flew around to hers.
“I’m a bitch? Are you f-” I chewed on my cheek to keep me from saying what I really wanted to say, and stared at her. Her eyes were rolling into the back of her head. There was no point.
Chelsea put her head in her knees and hands, and rocked sideways into me. “Yes, you’re a bitch. You know how unhappy I’ve…”
“I know how unhappy you’ve been…Chelsea?…Chels?” I shook her, and turned her face up towards me. She was asleep. Gone. Happy Easter to you too. Let this night never be mentioned again.
A phone began to ring as we entered my uncle’s house. It wasn’t mine. I couldn’t believe that little twit Leo was calling already. Chelsea was half asleep on my shoulder, and I reached into her small clutch purse to try to hit the off button in case someone else was in the house. I knew my uncle would be gone. It blinked ‘Mi Amor’ several times with a Maryland area code. I hit off.
***
“Ewww, who was that guy I was talking to last night? Please tell me nothing happened,” Chelsea said that afternoon, after we woke up.
I pulled myself out of bed and rubbed the sleep from my eyes. Last night felt like a nightmare, I just wanted to forget it happened. Our only night out in Las Vegas together and we had wasted it with those two scoundrels.
“You didn’t seem to think he was so ewwww at the time, Chelsea,” I said.
“What do you mean?”
“You mean, you don’t remember?”
“Of course I remember, but we didn’t…”
“No, nothing happened.”
“Oh, thank God.”
“Even drunken you somehow remained committed to that man of yours. I don’t know how you did it.” I’m sure she enjoyed the attention, but one thing was for sure, Victor couldn’t say she cheated on him – at least not physically.
“I didn’t think I did…or would. I could never. How late were we there? How did it go with you and Pedro?” She actually seemed genuinely interested.
“Was that his name? Oh, don’t even go there,” I said, through gritted teeth. “Let’s just not talk about it.”
“Guess not so well?” She ignored my plea to avoid the conversation. I got out of bed and entered the en suite. She continued speaking, nonetheless. “Leo was so intense, wasn’t he? God, he promised me the world. I’ve never had someone fawn over me quite like that before. I have to admit, it did feel kind of good.” She giggled.
She grabbed a mirror and inspected herself. “Oof. I look rough.” She threw the mirror back on the bed. “Anyway, he was telling me he wanted to fly me back to Brazil. Can you believe that? How cute was he? I wonder if he’ll call today. Should I text him?”
I came out of the bathroom and gasped at her for effect. “You can’t be serious. What good would that really do you?” Her eyes cast downwards and I could tell she was a bit hurt by my harshness. I changed my approach. “Don’t text him, wait until he texts you like he said he would.” She settled into that idea.
“I mean, obviously I would never do anything with him,” she said. “I am a little curious about him though. Once he heard I was married, I think it turned him on even more. Oh… boys.” She sighed and held her hand up to examine her ring. There was no ring. “Where’s my ring?” She twirled her head around the room frantically.
Completely unperturbed, I said, “I think that probably disintegrated at some point and fell off.”
“NOOO,” she alerted me. “My engagement and wedding ring - the one with the diamond on it!”
“I don’t remember seeing you with it on last night.” I was still not worried. I’m sure it was around somewhere. She hadn’t noticed the entire night, so it must not be a problem.
“Oh my God. Are you fucking kidding me? I put it on before going out. I know I did. Wait…” She stood up and threw her hands to her head. “I remember Leo got jealous of it. He made me that paper ring, and he was playing with my engagement ring. I laughed at him because he was so annoyed with it.”
The sound of our hearts sinking filled the room. She had been robbed. It was all an act, he stole her ring and it was now probably on the black market somewhere. How could she possibly explain that one to Victor?
“How can I possibly explain that to Victor?” she asked, reading my mind. “This could be bad. Very, very bad. Shit. Shit. Shit.” She paced around the room.
“OK.” I breathed in. “Let’s try to think through this. Where did you last remember having it?”
“I have no clue. I can’t remember.”
“Let’s just look around here. I’m sure it’s here somewhere.” Chelsea, still swathed in her clothes from the night before, and me, my eyes caked in mascara, scoured the bedroom and adjoining bathroom for the diamond studded ring. I lifted the silk sheets; she ransacked her suitcase; I pillaged my makeup bag; she shifted the bathroom rug. Nothing.
She plopped herself back on the bed. “I don’t know…oh God,” Chelsea said. She wailed into her arms.
“Oh Chelsea, we’ll find it. Don’t cry yet. It’s gotta be here somewhere.”
“I just don’t know what’s wrong with me. I was out flirting with another man; I took off my ring. I turned off my phone. I was out until God knows what time…”
“8 a.m.,” I threw in there.
“8 a.m.? Really? There you go. Eight o’clock in the morning. Victor and I got in a fight, and all of a sudden I become a different woman? Just last week I was with my husband talking about having babies and last night I thought this other guy was the love of my life. What was I thinking?” She paused, her eyes wide.
“You had a bit too much to drink. It’s been years since you’ve been away from your husband. Things haven’t been well at home – even with talk of the baby – and yes, you indulged in the compliments of another man, but you didn’t do anything. I’m sure the ring is around here somewhere,” I said.
“So, I definitely didn’t do anything?”
“No. You have no idea how strong you are, do you?” She looked down. I walked over to her and rubbed her back. It was all I could do.
“What do I say to him if we can’t find it? What on earth am I supposed to say?” I had no answer. She did. “Oh, I’m so sorry honey, I lost that $15,000 ring you bought and put on my credit card because I was upset that you got an STD while in Colombia and I wanted to take revenge on you by flirting all night with a twenty year old, small boy from Brazil. It has been so long since I felt sexy since you are always calling me fat and ugly, that I couldn’t help myself. But don’t worry, my Catholic conscience wouldn’t let me do anything physical with him even though I imagined him swinging me from the trees in the Amazon and fucking me in Caesar’s Palace. Should we still talk about making babies?!!!! FUCKING ASSHOOOOOOOOOOOOLE!!!!!” She held that ‘O’ until she couldn’t hold it any longer.
I had never heard her scream so loudly.
She gasped for air. I stayed with her as her chest heaved up and down. All the life that had been oozing from her the night before was gone. She sunk into the silk sheets and became enveloped by the bed. She rested her head in her hands. As much as she knew she needed to look for the ring, she couldn’t bear it. This loss represented what she wasn’t yet willing to admit, and perhaps the action of looking was what she had been doing too much of during the last couple of years. She needed a rest. We would do it together.
We sat on the edge of the bed. I continued to rub her back. She hid her face from the rest of the world, and the smell of our alcohol-soaked bodies pervaded into the effervescence of the room for the good part of forty-five minutes.
My phone finally rang. It was time to start the Easter Sunday proceedings. My uncle was waiting at the country club.
The ring was not found that afternoon, nor was our sanity.
***
“Hottie McHotterton hasn’t called,” Chelsea whispered halfway between a celery bite and a toss of the hair. We were seated at the Country Club with my uncle. He was busy chatting with his golfing buddy.
“It’s still early considering what time we left yesterday. They’re probably still sleeping. Who knows what they got into after they left us,” I tried to help out. I wanted to say that since they had the diamond ring they were after, I wouldn’t expect to hear from them at all, but I bit my lip for now.
“Oh, well. Honestly, why do I care anyway? He’s just an underage twerp, and I’m a fine piece of woman,” she said with a smirk on her face. I air-slapped her face teasingly.
I couldn’t bite my lip for too long, actually not for long at all. I was seriously angry at him. “Until we find that ring, he is the biggest underage twerp I have ever met. And if we don’t find it, we will search him out,” I said.
“Oh no.” She threw her head into her hands again. “I had almost forgotten about my ring. How could I have almost forgotten that?”
“Easier to forget,” I offered, wishing I had let her forget for a little while longer. I could not imagine what it would be like to go back to Baltimore having not answered the phone all night Saturday, and explain to my husband that my engagement ring went missing. My
stomach twisted for her, although I hated that Victor had that much power over her. He didn’t deserve it. I was beginning to wonder how much of that power might be a ruse on Chelsea’s part, however.
Now she seemed highly agitated, and would not be able to rest until we had found it. I did my best to eat quickly and make excuses to get back to continue the search.
The day passed slowly however, and we were only able to get back once Uncle Daly informed us that Armando, his creepy Italian friend, would be cooking dinner for us all. I just wanted to go and sleep until the next day. I didn’t even want to think about work with Tess.
She would be back from China, jetlagged and grumpy, and in desperate need of her iced green tea lattes. This also meant that Chels and I had to leave by 5 a.m. the next morning for me to get to work in time. We had already decided we were going to stay the night. Go to bed early and wake up early. After all, there wouldn’t be much happening on Easter Sunday.
***
Armando was cooking all right - a hearty meal of juicy, veiny, bloody red meat.
I wasn’t a vegetarian. I wasn’t. I ate seafood, chicken, and sometimes turkey. I had even tried to be a vegan, but my skin turned very pale, I lost fifteen pounds in a week and a half and almost fainted on Tess’s seaweed unwashable carpet. It’s not that I’m against the killing of animals either. I believe in the food chain, and that animals are a part of it. What I don’t really like is the thought of the brutality of the slaughter. Once, someone explained to me that “everything is made of energy, and when you eat an animal, you are also eating the pain and suffering it experienced before its death.” That got to me. The idea of consuming the pain of the animal got to me, but I couldn’t completely give all meat up. So I gave up red meat. I hadn’t eaten red meat in a couple of years.
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