JACK: Las Vegas Bad Boys

by Frankie Love

  We fell asleep last night, exhausted by our marathon of fucking. And I swear, somewhere amidst the rumpled bed sheets and setting sun, we laid our hearts out for one another.

  I don’t mean to say we’re all in love or whatever; I’m not ready for commitment after just getting out of things with Ashley. I just mean that something real happened between Tess and me.

  It was more than sex.

  And, honestly, it wasn’t particularly romantic, either. It was something powerful, something real. Something we shared that I have never experienced with anyone else.

  Not that I can be guaranteed she felt the same thing pass between our bodies, but I swear she did.

  She stirs now, and I kiss her shoulder before getting out of bed.

  Her bathroom is the size of a small closet, and I have to lower my head to stand in the shower, but I remind myself this is only temporary.

  When I come back into her room, I see she’s awake—and, unfortunately, a bathrobe is covering her all too well. She’s standing at the refrigerator with the door swung open.

  “I don’t have any food,” she moans, “and I’m starving.”

  “Me, too. We could get breakfast at Spades; they have a few decent places for brunch.”

  “Brunch?” She smiles. “I forget what a hipster you are, Jack.”

  “I feel like I should take offense to that.”

  “Just make sure you never get a man bun, and I won’t hate on you too hard.”

  “So, breakfast at Spades? I can call a car around.”

  “Sure. I have to go there today, anyways.”

  “So you aren’t running away yet?”

  She twists her lips. “I need to get some things from my locker, and tell my manager that I’m quitting.”

  “You aren’t really leaving, just like that.”

  “You don’t get it, do you?” She closes the fridge and heads to the bathroom. “I’m leaving, Jack.”

  I don’t know what to say. I don’t have any right to tell her to stay here. She’s her own woman, and the last thing she needs is some guy bossing her around … but, shit. She can’t go.

  Not now. Not after last night.

  I run my hands through my hair.

  “Can I take you out to breakfast first?” I ask. “Before you leave?”

  “Okay,” she agrees, turning on the water to the shower. “But it can’t take all day. When I say breakfast, that’s what I mean.”

  “So no sex on our way to the casino?” I ask. “Just looking for clarification.”

  “I appreciate it,” she says, laughing. “But no, I never said we couldn’t fuck before we get pancakes. I mean, carpe diem and all that crap, remember?”

  I watch as she drops her robe and steps into the shower. Her backside taunts me with its curves.

  I adjust my cock. Hell, I remember, all right. In fact, she’s made certain I’ll never forget.

  It doesn’t matter what day of the week it is; brunch at Spades is always a mad house. One of the downsides to being the most popular casino in Vegas.

  As the limo pulls up to the glossy black building, I realize that this is a terrible idea. Not the sex we just had in the limousine; that was off the charts. I mean coming here.

  “We can’t eat here, Tess,” I say, zipping my fly. “We must have been in a sexed-up fog to forget that the press will be all over this place.”

  She moans, her head falling back against the leather interior. “I’m seriously hungry. And I know you think I’m sexy for whatever reason, but let me tell you, hungry Tess isn’t sexy. She isn’t cute. She’s a monster.” She pulls up her panties and adjusts her skirt, and I try to focus on anything besides the taste of her that’s still on my lips.

  “I don’t think you could be a monster. Maybe an ogre. But a monster? No.”

  “I feel like you’ve confused your mythological creatures, Jack. Ogres are monsters.”

  “I feel like we’re getting off topic,” I tell her as the car comes to a dead stop. There are dozens of people here at the valet.

  “Let me call Emmy,” Tess says. “We can eat at her place. Tell the driver to swing around to the private entrance.”

  A few minutes later, Tess and I climb out of the car at a much more discreet entrance to the hotel. There’s an elevator back here at the end of the parking garage that has direct access to Ace and Emmy’s penthouse.

  “It’s weird we didn’t come this way in the first place,” Tess says, as the elevator doors slide open.

  Stepping inside, I try to explain. “Ash would never have let me come this way.”

  Tess tilts her head. “What do you mean?”

  “For her, image was everything. She Snapchatted her entire existence.”

  “But you loved her, right? I mean, a year is a long time.”

  When the elevator comes to a stop I grab her hand, wanting to clarify before we head into Ace and Emmy’s place.

  “I thought what she and I had was love. But I was wrong.”

  “How do you know you were wrong?” she asks, her voice a whisper.

  “What Ash and I had couldn’t have been love,” I tell her, “because what I feel for you is more than that, and we aren’t in love.”

  “We aren’t.” She says it as a fact, not as a question, and that makes me want her all the more. She isn’t trying to get me to be something for her, to use me; she’s not asking me for a single thing.

  But damn, I want to ask her for a lot. I want to ask her to stay.

  “What are we then, Tess?”

  “We’re late for brunch.” She shrugs, dismissing the idea of us, and more. Dismissing the truth that she and I found last night.

  It fucking pisses me off, because she has no fucking clue what I would do for her, and it doesn’t even seem like she cares.

  I’ve been wrong about Tess in a lot of ways; maybe this is just one more.

  “Just like that?” I ask. “You’re gonna blow me off?”

  “Jack, don’t be like that.”

  I try to shake it off, but damn, her words cut something deep. “Like you said, you become a monster when you’re hungry. So let’s go get you fed.”

  TESS

  So that was intense.

  Jack and I walk into Ace and Emmy’s apartment and I immediately know this was a bad idea.

  First of all, Jack is all pissed because what, I’m not begging him to be my … what? Does he want me to say I want to be his secret lover? His mistress? His fuck-buddy?

  I don’t want to be any of those things, but clearly he doesn’t like the fact that I’m not fawning all over him. Or maybe he’s mad because, you know, I have to skip town to avoid my psychotic father who may be looking for me.

  And honestly, if he wants to get mad at me for that, instead of, you know, asking some follow up questions about my family, fuck him.

  And I don’t say that meanly—but, seriously, I have no room in my life for unnecessary drama.

  And, second of all, Emmy knows something is off right away.

  “So, this is a surprise,” she says, arms crossed, tapping her finger on her elbow. “I just called Ace and told him to come up. He’s been at the office.”

  “I feel bad, if we’re putting you out,” I say, holding my purse, prepared to just leave the way I came.

  “What are you talking about? I have a personal chef, Tess. Ricky can make you anything you want.”

  “Really? A personal chef?” I try not to act surprised—but, damn, this class divide is seriously growing each day.

  Emmy shrugs. “Ace has been all wrapped up in the launch of Hearts Royalle, and now that it’s officially been open for a month, Ricky was my present. To myself.”

  “Rewards,” I say, using our term for basically any sort of treat we give ourselves for getting through the day.

  And while I usually reward myself with, say, a Frappuccino after a long shift on the casino floor, Emmy has upgraded to a 24/7 cook.

  “Right?” She smiles, and we follow her int
o the sleek kitchen, where a man in his forties is dicing onions, wearing an apron. He waves at us with his knife as Emmy keeps talking. “So, tell me the truth, why did you two come here to eat, anyways?”

  “We had a sleepover at my place,” I tell her nonchalantly, noticing that Jack is typing on his phone and not really paying attention. “And I had no food for breakfast. We came here to have brunch but we realized that us together in public was a stupid idea. And, besides all that, I’m legit hangry.”

  “The struggle is real,” Ricky says, smiling as he adds bacon to the griddle. “Any allergies?”

  “None. Well, none for me. I don’t know about him.” I point to Jack, who briefly looks up from his phone and shakes his head.

  “Anyways, there was a whole thing with the press yesterday and it freaked me out a bit—”

  Jack looks up from his phone. “A bit?” His tone is sharp, but I shake it off and keep talking.

  “So I was freaked out; that’s why I want to avoid the cameras. I just don’t want the attention.”

  Jack snorts. “She doesn’t know, Tess? About why you’re in Vegas?”

  Emmy looks us over, as if attempting to discern what the problem is.

  But the problem is pretty damn clear. Apparently Jack has no qualms with calling me out on the carpet.

  And I have the sinking realization that perhaps jumping into Emmy’s penthouse was, like, the worst idea ever. Instead of having a morning quickie on our way here, maybe we should have talked about safe words and off-limit topics.

  “Why are you being like this?” I hiss at him.

  He shakes his head slowly. “This is such bullshit.”

  Ace walks into the kitchen, fist-bumps Jack, and then greets Emmy and me with a kiss on each of our cheeks, unaware of the tension between Jack and me.

  “So, what’s up, motherfuckers?” he asks, punching a few buttons on a very complicated-looking espresso machine. “Cappuccino?”

  “Yes, please,” I say, as Ricky cracks a few eggs and begins to scramble them.

  “So you two came over together?” Ace asks.

  “Yeah,” Jack says shortly, sliding his phone in his pocket. “But I’m actually in yesterday’s clothes and should really go take care of a few things. You good here, Tess?” he asks me with a distant look in his eye.

  “I guess.” I shake my head, hating the way he’s decided to back off.

  “Okay,” he says, nodding at me. “Then I’ll see you around. Oh, can someone take Tess home?”

  “I’ll see you later, then?” I ask, but as I do, I realize that if this is his passive-aggressive way of getting back at me for not telling Emmy my entire backstory, then I really don’t care if he calls or if I see him again or if this really is the end.

  Of whatever the hell we are.

  “Sure, Tess,” he says flatly. “Why don’t you give me a call if you want to see me.”

  He leaves the way he came, and once he’s gone Emmy and Ace look at me, eyes bugging out.

  “So that just happened,” Emmy says, grimacing.

  “Fucking asshole,” Ace says. “I told him not to hurt you.”

  “Yeah,” Emmy says, eyebrows raised. “Sounds like he really listened.”

  “I’m gonna go talk to him,” Ace says, before following Jack out the door.

  I look away, because the tears in my eyes betray everything I’m feeling. “I feel so stupid,” I say, biting back a sob.

  “Shush, that’s crazy talk. Come to the living room, eat your eggs, and tell me everything.”

  Sitting on the couch, I hold the plate of eggs and bacon in my hands. I can’t talk yet; I need to eat, and think of what exactly I’m going to say to Emmy.

  As I’m polishing off a third slice of bacon I hear the front door open.

  “Hey, girls,” Claire says, and comes in with JoJo in tow.

  “You got here fast,” Emmy says. “Sit. You want mimosas? Ricky just brought the stuff out.”

  The coffee table has champagne and OJ ready for us. I didn’t even notice.

  “Sure,” JoJo says. “Hope you don’t mind that I tagged along. I saw Claire at kindergarten drop-off. I’ve been helping Mary with the kids a bunch this week. And Lucy has the baby.”

  “What’s Mary off doing?” Emmy asks.

  “Actually, she and Connor are at this marriage counseling thing in Los Angeles. Which is sort of insane.”

  “Good for them,” Emmy says. “I wish you’d brought the baby though; she’s so cute.”

  “Emmy has baby-fever,” Claire says, smirking, and fills a glass with equal parts orange juice and champagne.

  “Haven’t you only been married a few months?” JoJo asks.

  “Right?” Claire laughs. “She has no idea what she’s hoping for.”

  “Hey,” Emmy says defensively, “there are worse things than getting knocked up by the man you love.”

  With that, all three of them turn to look at me.

  Because apparently I am the worst thing.

  “So,” Claire begins. “What’s the crisis?”

  I roll my eyes, looking at Emmy. Hating that she’s spinning my story out of control.

  “Look, I don’t want to talk about it. Jack and I had a really good time together—”

  “Sounds like it, by the way he stormed out of here,” Emmy says.

  “Wait, Jack was here and then left? This morning?” Claire asks.

  “Yeah, apparently they had a sleepover, then they came here for free food and got in some weird code-word-fight and he left.”

  “You guys already have code words?” JoJo asks, seeming impressed.

  But impressed, I am not. “You guys, I love you, tons. But whatever is going on between Jack and me, is private.”

  “Are you kidding me with that?” Emmy asks, pouring a glass of just champagne and handing it to me. “Drink. Then tell us the actual truth. Remember my horrible past? Claire’s secret daughter? JoJo and her arranged marriage? Honey, I think your privacy got thrown out the window the moment Ashley started stirring Jack’s pot.”

  “Eww, is that a sex thing? Stirring pots?” Claire asks.

  “No,” Emmy says, smacking Claire on the back of her head. “It’s the actual thing that Ashley did to get a rise out of Jack and then upset Tess—and honestly,” she says, turning to me. “I think you’re overreacting, honey. Did Jack show you the photos? They just aren’t that bad.”

  JoJo frowns. “The ones this morning are more than a little bad.”

  “This morning is still happening, what do you mean?” I ask, another wave of dread crashing through me.

  JoJo pulls out her phone, tapping on the screen. “It’s not like a verified news source. It’s just people on Periscope.”

  I look at her blankly.

  “The app,” she explains. “It gives live broadcasts of whatever you film. And it’s linked to all your social media.”

  “What did you see?”

  JoJo grimaces. “You really haven’t seen it? Honey, that’s why I thought you were having this pow-wow. I mean … a live sex tape is pretty serious.”

  “What the hell!” I grab the phone from her and tap the Play button.

  For the next ten minutes we watch with our mouths covered in shock, as a video of Jack and me in the limo—just, what, thirty minutes ago?—is filmed through the driver’s window.

  The footage is dark, but there are unmistakable gasps and moans. And cries. Me repeating, “Jack, give it to me harder.”

  “Oh, my God.” I cover my face. “Delete that.”

  “You can’t delete Periscope videos. Obviously, we’ll report it and it will get pulled down,” JoJo says.

  “But by now it’s probably already been downloaded on other sites,” Claire says.

  “I’m so sorry, Tess. I really thought you guys knew,” JoJo says.

  “Let me call Ace,”Emmy says. “Whoever that driver is, he’s gonna get fired.”

  “How are you going to find the driver? There are thousands o
f them,” Claire says. “And okay, say they find him: how does this help Tess, right now?”

  “Can I see the glamour.com articles?” I ask, trying not to hyperventilate, trying to get a solid assessment on this entire situation.

  JoJo nods and quickly pulls them up. “This, and then scroll down and you can see some more. But don’t look at the comments.”

  There I am, leaving Jack’s place, frame by frame. And there I am, entering my apartment shot by shot.

  “Why does anyone care who Jack sleeps with?” I ask.

  “The only person who cares is Ashley,” Emmy assures me. “Seriously, no one else on the planet cares who leaves whose apartment.”

  “You think it’s obvious that girl is me?” I ask.

  “Well, yeah,” Claire says apologetically.

  “Even if my hair was normally blonde and to my waist? And if I was wearing a lot of make-up? Would you still think that might be me?”

  “I think your eyes give you away, and your lips are so full it would be hard to miss you, even if you looked different,” Claire says, giving me a hard, assessing look.

  “What are you getting at, Tess?” Emmy asks.

  “Never mind.”

  JoJo nods, and in an instant I know she’s following along with me. “You’re running from someone, aren’t you?”

  “I gotta go,” I tell them, standing up, setting the champagne on the coffee table. I should never have stayed this long. And not just this morning—I mean in this city in general.

  I should never have become so close to these people, people who are all a few steps from fame themselves. Landon and his Fortune 500 Company, Ace and his casino brand—every A-List celebrity stays here and is their new friend. Even JoJo is on the cusp of fame, with her MMA career.

  I can’t stay close to any of them.

  I may care for all of them, a hell of a lot. But I care more about having a chance at freedom.

  I need to leave. Now.

  “I’ll call you girls later, okay? I’m tired. Exhausted by the sex scandal.” I give them a fake laugh, hoping like hell they buy it. “If anyone at my apartment looks suspicious, I’ll be sure to give you a call. Maybe Ace or Landon—or even your family, JoJo—could help with security.”