The woman who was massaging his legs was no more than nineteen. Purring over him like a kitten with a bowlful of cream. Another was feeding him a cocktail—a Tequila Sunrise maybe, because the red and gold of the drink swirled about the glass in colorful waves, as he sipped through a long straw. She fingered his dark hair—her scarlet nails keen as little knives; a lock was hanging over his brow.
“Loving this, girls . . . loving it,” he murmured, while the third—one with a very sexy round behind—began to massage his nut-brown back.
The younger girl looked up at me, her heavy blond mane hanging over one eye. “Can I help you?” she asked suspiciously, even possessively—there was no room for a petite brunette in their ménage quartet. I wasn’t sure, could she? Should I say something?
But I didn’t speak, as I knew he’d recognize my voice, so I just shook my head. Then walked away.
Dumbstruck, I ambled back to Dad and sat with him by the bar.
He handed me my drink. “Honey, what’s up?”
“Will,” I said, “will be just fine.”
Dad glugged down a whole glass of water and let out a satisfied gasp. “I wish I could believe that.”
“Trust me, dad, he’s fine.”
“How do you know?”
“Let’s just say I have evidence.”
“You saw him?”
“Yeah,” I said, in a dazed monotone, “I saw him.”
“And? Where the fuck is he?” My parents were never the kind to stop swearing in front of the children—my dad was like a friend, not a typical father.
“He’s occupied with a bunch of . . . ” –I wanted to say ‘girls’ but they were too worldly for that—“females,” I spluttered. “I didn’t want to break the spell for him—the older sister clucking around like a mother hen, you know.”
“Whores?”
“Ssh, keep your voice down. I don’t think so . . . just opportunists. I don’t want to disturb him. He’s ‘scored,’ you know, and this could be his first time—I mean this must be his first, surely? I don’t want to ruin his Vegas experience.”
I assumed Will had won money, but then again, he was damn good looking. Even so . . . three?
I expected my father to feel proud of his son initiating his manhood, but he brought up a very good point: “You think he knows about safe sex, Janie? I doubt it. And what if they’re all taking copious amounts of drugs?”
“Good point,” I said, feeling like the child now. I couldn’t believe my dad was so on the ball, for once. “You’re right.”
He glared at me. “So, where is he?”
“At the other end of the pool. He didn’t look like he was going anywhere fast, though. I’ll try calling again.” I took my cell out from my shorts’ pocket. Will’s phone jumped to voicemail, just as I expected. I didn’t bother leaving a message, I’d already left so many already. “Okay, Dad, I’ll go over and . . .” –I didn’t know what my plan was, but Dad was agitated, and I thought it best I spoke to Will alone—“you stay here.”
I walked over to Will and his harem of girls, mulling over how stunned Dad and I were by Will’s new independence manifesting in a way neither of us had ever anticipated. My brother was sitting up now, and our gazes instantly met. A slow smile crept on his face—a face which looked older than I remembered, and less boyish. I hadn’t seen him in more than six months.
“Hey,” I said, leaning down to kiss him on the cheek. “See you’ve set yourself up nicely. Dad and I’ve been calling you non stop.”
He squinted at me, the sun in his eyes. “You didn’t get my message?”
“Noooo, Will, we’ve been checking our cells every five minutes!” I tried to stay calm.
“Candy, Stacey, Jill, this is my sister, Janie.”
“Hi,” I said, trying not to be unfriendly. It wasn’t their fault.
Will spoke with a grin, like a giant sticker, slapped across his handsome face. My glare did not deter his happiness for one second. “I left a message early this morning with the concierge, there should be a note . . . a note . . . in Dad’s inbox,” he said, beaming.
“What happened to your cellphone?”
“I dove in the pool with it by mistake. I have it, but it’s not so happy, not so happy. I won a lot of money, Janie, at Blackjack. Won a lot of money.”
The last thing Will needed was to be boasting in public about all the money he’d made.
“Will, can I just . . . Dad’s worried sick . . . can we just talk in private for a second?”
He lifted his hands in a gesture, as if to say, See how annoying my sister is? “Sure,” he said. He reluctantly moved away from scarlet fingernailed Jill, whose talons were still gently rested on his bronzed shoulders, and stood up. He’d grown since I last saw him. He was now well over six feet tall. He’d been working out, too. A brand new Will, who’d left his old self behind in Vermont. I pulled him away from his sexy entourage.
“Will,” I hissed in a whisper, “keep your mouth shut about your winnings, or these girls will strip you bare.”
“They already have,” he said, raising a confident eyebrow. Just like Will—he’d always been generous, never understood the meaning of money. “Have already stripped me, already stripped me.”
“How much?” I said, wondering how he’d handle it when it finally sunk in what he’d done.
“All the way, sis. With all three.” He was still grinning.
“Are you talking about what I think you’re talking about?”
“Sure am.”
“Did you use a condom?”
“I used three condoms.”
I couldn’t help but smile—Will always did take things literally. I had my answer, anyway. He was no longer a virgin. Three times no longer a virgin. “The money, have you spent it all?”
“Nooo, it’s in the bank.”
“In a bank? Like a real bank?”
“I opened up a bank account today. Put my winnings in, except I did buy the girls dresses, and drinks and, well . . . maybe some jewelry. Taking them out tonight, dresses and all. They look great in their dresses, great in their dresses.”
“You put the money in a bank?”
“Better under a mattress? Or down a bra?” He laughed. I was reeling with this information; Will and banks didn’t seem to go hand in hand.
“Will, how much are you talking about?”
“Eighty thousand dollars. Give or take, give or take, give or take.”
“Holy shit! You’re kidding me?”
“Nope.”
“And you put it in a bank?”
“Yup.”
I narrowed my eyes. “In your name, or in one of the girl’s names?”
“Janie, I’m not dumb.” He twizzled around like Fred Astaire.
“Holy shit!” I sounded like a broken record. I hugged my not-so-little brother in celebration, my arms squeezing him in a tight embrace. Here I’d been thinking he needed my help. Maybe what he really needed, all along, was to get away from us—from Dad and me—to think clearly, be his own person, and this trip to Vegas offered that. We spoke some more and Will revealed that, before he laid his first bet on the table, he’d come up with an airtight plan; to quit after his third winning, put the money away, and only invest five percent with each new round. If he lost, he told me, too bad, but if he won, it would prove that his system worked. It did. Another thing he confided was that he’d planned this trip ahead of time.
Will was smarter than all of us put together.
“For now, just don’t tell Dad, okay?” I suggested. “He’s shell-shocked enough as it is with this whole . . . whole manhood thing, he doesn’t need to know about the money yet. Just promise me you’ll be careful, Will.”
“I promise, I promise. I promise.”
Just then my cell rang. Daniel.
“Did you find your brother?” he asked.
I told him the Will saga and he laughed.
“Have you been to your room?” he said. Just hearing Daniel’s ra
spy voice was doing things to my body.
“No, why?”
“Because there’s something waiting for you when you get there.”
“Champagne?”
“No, I want you sober.”
“What then?”
“Something for tonight. I’m taking you to a party.”
“A party?” I instantly wondered if I had anything to wear.
“A Hollywood party at the Bellagio, a lot of producers and directors will be there.”
“Are my father and Will invited?”
“If you want them to be, sure.”
“Okay, I’ll mull that one over.”
“A show first, though, just us, no third party. If they want to come they can meet us later. I’ll knock at your door around seven, Janie. Be ready.”
“What’s the show?”
“Something that will inspire a performer like you. You’ll love it. See you at seven.”
I LEFT WILL TO HIS GIRLS, and Dad by the bar, where he’d run into an old musician friend of his from his Jazz band days.
I dove into my room with excitement. A giant, very fancy shopping bag, with an equally enormous box inside, was lying seductively on the bed. I took the box out of the bag with both hands keeping it steady. I opened it up, discarding the silky ribbon, which I rolled up neatly and stuffed into a corner of my suitcase as a memento. Then I remembered to wash my hands—didn’t want to sully the fabric of whatever was inside, not that my hands were dirty, but germs—any—were not welcome. Daniel’s Howard Hughes’s mania had gotten to me.
I had never been bought a dress before, except by my mom. My heart was drumming with anticipation. Why am I expecting a dress? It could be a pants suit or even a robe, or maybe not an article of clothing at all but a beach towel or something.
But I was right: it was a dress. So exquisite, it brought tears to my eyes. Sleek, soft, supple, silky. In a rich chocolate brown. It moved like flowing water when I held it against my body. The back was scooped, almost all the way down to the butt. Stunning. Sexy but elegant. Classy. All the things Daniel had told me that I was. The label was an expensive Italian brand—I knew so little about fashion. Then I panicked . . . how does Daniel know my size? I’ll be too embarrassed to tell him if it doesn’t fit—things rarely do, especially around the bust.
I envisioned myself at the party, swimming in this designer dress, my boobs on full view.
But when I slipped into it, it did fit. So perfectly, I wondered if Daniel had used Jake and Star’s trick: calling the wardrobe department for my measurements. Then I noticed another bag nestled on the floor: Salvatore Ferragamo. I pulled out the box and opened it up: a pair of high, nude, peep-toe pumps. I eased my feet in slowly and stood up, trying not to teeter—I needed to practice walking a bit, especially in this dress. I was used to Converse trainers and wanted to look effortless in front of Daniel and all the Hollywood producers who would be at the party tonight.
4
THE SURPRISE SHOW was O by Cirque du Soleil, at the Bellagio. The best seats in the house. The entire stage was a swimming pool, and the act was replete with synchronized swimmers, Olympic-class divers, and acrobatic artists; the story unfolding above, below, and in the water. Daniel was right; nothing could have inspired me more than this breathtaking, surrealistic phenomenon, full of magical, dare-defying acts, and so many colors and imaginative forms, my head was spinning. Dancers painted like zebras, flashes of scarlet, turquoise, yellow, and blue reflected and bounced off the rippling pool, fire acts performing implausible feats. Pure theatrical romance engulfing us, transporting us into a dizzied reverie, making us forget that these were human beings doing the impossible. The show was one, extraordinary package of pure, unadulterated Art.
“Can you imagine doing five and a half flips?” I whispered in Daniel’s ear, not averting my gaze from the acrobat spinning through the air, and flying downwards, before he hit the water in a graceful dive. Daniel didn’t answer, just squeezed my hand. Daniel and I are on a date! A real date, I said to myself silently, over and over like a mantra.
No words passed between us after my comment, and when the finale came, with one of the performers playing a grand piano as it submerged into the glittering water—shimmering with lights and colors—I felt as if I had been transported to theatrical heaven: a place every actor loves to travel, to remind ourselves that make-believe and art really are important, and just because you aren’t a doctor doesn’t mean you aren’t saving people’s lives. Art is survival. This spectacle tonight was pure soul food.
“Thank you,” I murmured in Daniel’s ear, after we, the audience, had torn the house down with our claps and cheers.
“What for?”
“For nourishing my psyche—I needed that after my spate in Hollywood.”
“You’re so welcome. By the way, I can’t do five and a half flips, but I can do two.”
“You’re kidding!”
“I’m a Leo, after all, I like showing off in front of pretty women. I’ll show you when we go to Hydra this summer, there’s a rock I like to dive off into the sea.”
A thrill pricked every nerve in my body. “Greece? You’re taking me to a Greek island?”
“If you’ll come.”
I gave him a mischievous eyebrow raise as if to say “maybe.” Like hell. You bet I will.
I loved leaning against Daniel, as he held me steady in my heels, my arm linked in his. He was wearing a tux and was the epitome of handsome. We were a couple. Finally, after all this time, I felt my confidence blossom. We looked good together; I could tell by the way people dragged their gazes over us and then smiled, appreciating what they observed: a man and woman in love.
“I have a house there, that looks onto the Mediterranean. You’ll love it.”
“You’re full of surprises, Daniel Glass. What else haven’t you told me about yourself?”
“You’ll find out, bit by bit. But I hope you won’t hold any of it against me.”
“Like what?”
“Like . . . I’m a cricket fanatic.”
I nearly said, I know, but sucked in my cheeks to stop myself, for fear of Daniel getting wind of my stalker tendencies.
“You play, or just watch?” I said instead.
“I’m on an English team. You can come and eat cream teas in pavilions, on lazy summer afternoons, while I run back and forth in white, boring you silly. Or you can get drunk on Pimms.”
“What’s Pimms?”
“An alcoholic drink with bits of cucumber and strawberries floating about in it. A rather disgusting, upper-crust summer drink that the British love.”
I was feeling heady just talking about all these future plans. Daniel was into me. As in . . . girlfriend/boyfriend into me. I rested my head on his shoulder as we stepped into the elevator that would lead us up to the party. He eyed me up and down, his stare sexual, hungry. I could hear his measured breath. His hand trailed from the nape of my neck, down my flesh to the small of my back, and the tips of his cool fingers lodged themselves in between the elastic of my skimpy panties.
The car stopped at the fourth floor and two men got out, leaving us alone.
He whispered in my ear, “Love your dress, you’re making me hard just looking at you.” His hand traveled down and cupped my butt, letting his finger slip down my crack.
“Daniel!”
“I’m going to take this,” –his voice was a rasp, low, and determined—“when you’re ready.”
I felt my face flush red, and pretended I hadn’t heard him. Then I thought twice and said, “Maybe I never will be.”
“Oh, you will be, trust me.” He trailed his hand up my backbone, causing goose bumps to sprinkle all over my flesh, my nipples to harden. He tugged lightly on my hair so my chin tipped up, and with his other hand took mine—the one that wasn’t holding my clutch purse—and pressed it against his groin. I gasped at his sudden dominance. I was pinned against the elevator car, his hand cupped over mine, as I felt his thick ridge bet
ween my fingers, through the fine fabric of his slacks.
“See what you do to me.” His lips hovered over mine—even his breath was delicious.
“Oh God,” I murmured, ready for his kiss. But the elevator doors suddenly opened and there we were, already at the party. I could hear voices and moneyed laughter. Glasses clinking, heels clicking. Will would be here with his girls. Not my dad, though, he’d told me he wanted to stay behind and catch up with his friend and his wife.
I felt so special walking into the room, dressed in our fine clothes, with Daniel holding my hand. The party was milling with beautiful people all schmoozing and networking. It spilled into several, separate rooms, champagne flowing, and handsome waiters and waitresses slipping in and out of the crowds with trays full of elaborate canapés. My gaze floated in a sort of daze over the famous faces of movie stars and sparkling jewelry, until my eyes landed in a surprised jolt on none other than Cal! He was with a pretty blonde, but said something to her before breaking away, as if he didn’t want me to realize that they were together. Too late, buster, I’m with Daniel now. He inched his way toward me through the hustle of designer-clad bodies.
Daniel turned to me, “Janie, there’s someone here I need to talk to. Boring shoptalk stuff. Won’t be long.” Daniel nodded in the direction of a group of CEO types.
“Oh,” I said, disappointed. I wanted Cal to see us together, just to make a point. Daniel noticed my face as it fell into a disillusioned pout.
“You’re a confident actress, pleasing crowds is your job.” He winked at me. “Don’t look so forlorn.” He squeezed my hand and made his way to the other side of the room.
“Janie!” Cal said, coming up beside me. “Great to see you.”
“I thought you were in Vancouver, filming.” I gave him a wan smile and did the air kiss thing. He was also dressed in a tux and did look good, I had to admit.
“Doing a few days filming here, first. I know, it was a surprise to me, too.”
“Who’s the girl?” I wondered why I said that. It wasn’t as if I cared, but I wanted to make Cal feel awkward after all those nice things he’d said to me, when it had obviously been bullshit. Thought I’d call him out on it.”
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