by Carolina Mac
“Yes, you are, sugar.” My tone was firm. “There’s no other way for it.”
He nodded. It was too hot to leave Angel in the Hummer without the motor running at least part of the time. I walked with Jackson to the corral and inhaled a healthy dose of hot, dry Arizona air laced heavily with horse manure. I took some pictures of him after he mounted the buckskin he had chosen from the line of weary looking candidates and headed back to let Angel out of the truck. There were picnic tables scattered around the property and a small souvenir shop selling snacks and cold drinks. I bought a Coke and a gardening magazine and made myself comfortable in the shade with Angel lying beside me in the grass.
Less than an hour later, Jackson sauntered through the gate into the parking lot with a huge grin on his face. “I can see you had fun.”
“Rougher than riding my chopper, but fun. My ass is kind of sore,” he chuckled. “Hope you weren’t too bored, baby.” He kissed me and I gave him a hug.
“We were fine, weren’t we girl?” Angel rolled in the grass beside the table. “When we get to the canyon, she’ll be able to walk around on her leash while you snap pictures.”
“Are my two girls ready to go?” Jackson asked.
Angel wagged her stub of a tail as I picked up her bowl and dumped leftover water onto the grass. “We’re ready.”
On our way north to the rim of the canyon, we passed through Grand Canyon Village, a bustling Mecca of souvenir shops, restaurants, and hotels. “Let’s stop here on the way back, grab some lunch and browse in the shops,” I said. “We can get some cool shirts.”
“You got it.”
The traffic was fairly heavy approaching the parking areas, but eventually, Jackson found a spot large enough for our rig in the RV section. “We’re here,” he said as he shut off the Hummer. He was smiling non-stop and seemed a little more relaxed. Every time he got a call from the club it changed his mood and filled the air around him with tension.
Jackson took my hand, I held Angel’s leash, and the three of us walked along the shady path to one of the many viewing areas. When he passed through the trees and had an unobstructed view of the vast expanse in front of him, he gasped. “My God, Annie. Did you ever see anything so fuckin’ big?” He raised the camera to eye level and got busy.
“Not since last night,” I whispered back.
He grinned and winked. “Stand at the railing, baby, I want to take shots of you with the canyon behind.” He sucked in a breath. “Don’t get too close to the edge.”
Angel and I posed for Jackson as he took dozens of pictures. Then I took as many of him at different angels, with the canyon in the background. There were crowds of people everywhere. Walking, talking, and posing for pictures. I held my breath on two occasions observing parents allowing their small children to walk up to the railing alone and peer over the edge. Were they nuts?
If I ever had a child, I would never let go of his hand.
As we returned to the parking area, I squinted and shaded my eyes with my hand. Two men were lurking near the bike trailer. One was standing and the other was squatting down. Just as I turned my head to say something to Jackson, he dropped my hand and broke into a run.
“What the hell are you doing?” he yelled, as he got closer to the Hummer. The guys bolted and ran for it. By the time I caught up, Jackson was checking the bikes to see if any damage had been done. “I’d like to beat the shit out of those pricks.”
“Were they trying to steal the bikes?” I asked my heart pounding.
“Must have been their plan. One of the ratchet straps is cut, and another is loosened.”
“Good thing we got back when we did. Could have been worse.” I sighed. “Are the bikes secure enough in the trailer to continue driving?”
“They’ll hold for now. When we get to the dealership, I’ll buy chains with a lock. This is no fuckin good.” Jackson’s face had color and his jaw was clenched as he rummaged for the tool he needed in the red box he kept in the Hummer. He finished a few adjustments and we headed south to the village.
Jackson opted for burgers at Wendy’s, positioning himself at a table with a clear sight line to our rig. He was on edge and wasn’t taking any chances. He asked for a pass on the souvenir shopping and drove straight to Grand Canyon Harley.
Jackson chatted to one of the boys on staff and headed out back to the repair shop to get what he needed to secure the bikes. While he was busy, I bought four shirts, a tank top, a hat, three bandanas and two pairs of jeans for Jackson. I walked Angel around the flat, treeless property while he finished up and proudly showed off our bikes to the locals. I took a few more pictures and waited in the Hummer.
“Nice guys,” said Jackson, as he hopped into the driver’s seat. They gave me a number in case we needed help with anything. They knew the boss.”
“What kind of help would we need, sugar?”
“Manpower, or backup, like that,” Jackson said casually.
“Are we expecting trouble down here?”
“I don’t think so.”
Jackson sounded unsure. He hadn’t been himself since his talk with Rusty this morning.
“Can’t believe they knew George way down here? That’s amazing.” I felt tears welling up and wiped my eyes.
Jackson reached for my hand.
“I’m okay, but I’d love to ride down here after we get settled in Vegas. Take more time and have another look at the canyon and the red rock area.”
Jackson looked over at me. “You’re a mind reader, baby. I love this area and need to ride back down here in a big way. When I was a kid, my dad would be passed out in his room or out somewhere drinking with his boys and I used to watch cowboy movies when they came on TV late at night. 3:10 to Yuma, with Glen Ford, was my favorite. I always wanted to go to Yuma, Arizona and be a cowboy.”
“Put it on our list, and we’ll go there,” I said, looking at our location on the map. “We’re four hours out of Vegas. By the time we stop a couple of times for Angel, and a half hour at Hoover Dam for pictures, we should check into the Bellagio between seven and eight—right on time.”
“I can’t believe it. Today is the day,” he put his window down and hooted. Angel stood up and wagged her tail.
We stopped for gas in Kingman, bought cold bottles of water for Angel and a couple of Cokes, then continued northwest through the desert. After miles of sand, heat and scrub vegetation, we saw signs for the Dam. The checkpoint was lined up for a mile. I glanced at Jackson and saw the tension in his face. “Do the uniforms bother you, sugar?”
“Fuck, yeah. Been afraid of them my whole life. Bred into me by my dad, I guess.”
I frowned. “Did he bad-mouth cops when you were a boy?”
“Not so much what he said, but if we were walking to the store or saw a cop on our block he would take a detour so we didn’t come face to face.”
“Maybe he had outstanding warrants that you knew nothing about,” I said.
Jackson nodded. “He probably did. He was always in a club and away at night.”
I nodded and reached for his hand. When we cleared security, the visitor center was closing as we approached the door. “Sorry folks. Come back tomorrow.”
“That damn checkpoint made us late,” said Jackson, “I wanted to go on the tour.”
“Come on, sugar. We’ll do our own tour.” Jackson and I walked around with Angel and after he got fabulous pictures of Lake Mead on his own, he was appeased.
“That was our last stop before Bellagio,” I said. “I’m happy it’s your turn to drive. I don’t want to maneuver this big mother in the city.”
An hour later, Jackson pulled the rig into the casino parking garage and spoke to the attendant. “He swears everything is secure. They have cameras, guards, the whole nine yards.”
“Hope so. I wouldn’t want anything bending you out of shape.” I smiled and motioned to a bell person as I clipped on Angel’s leash. Jackson helped load the luggage trolley.
At the reserv
ation desk in the lobby, I pulled my confirmation number out of my purse and presented it to the clerk. “Welcome, Mrs. Talbot. Your room is ready for you. And yes, I see you do have your pet with you,” he peered over the counter at Angel. “No problem. I see that you’re staying with us for a week.” He smiled as he handed me the room keys, booklets of coupons, and other sundry pieces of paper. “If you sign up for a player’s card, we can in all likelihood upgrade your room for you.”
“Thank you so much. Where do I sign up for that card?”
He pointed in the general direction of the noise. “In the casino, you’ll see the signs.”
I gave him a wave as we headed off to the elevator. In our room after the trolley was unloaded, I tipped the bellman and took a look around. Jackson had wanted to go with a regular room because we wouldn’t be in it all that much and he didn’t want me to spend the extra money. He was right, as always. Our room was more than adequate, with a king-sized bed, fresh blue and gray décor and a breathtaking view. I stood at the window taking in the Vegas panorama. We faced the strip and I could see the famous fountain in front of the hotel. Jackson stood beside me at the window and slipped his arm around my waist.
“We’re here,” he whispered. He took me in his arms and kissed me, then carried me to the king-sized bed to celebrate our arrival.
ANGEL WOKE US an hour later whining to go out. After her tour of the Bellagio property, Jackson and I showered and changed.
“Why don’t you wear some of that new stuff I bought you at the Harley store,” I pointed to the bag on the corner table.
“What new stuff? Did you shop?”
“I bought a few things while you were fixing the ratchet straps.” I handed him the bag.
“This is more than a few things, Annie.” He dumped the clothes onto the bed and picked up a pair of jeans. They were tight and I giggled as he wiggled his butt into them and sucked in a breath to zip them up. “These fit like a glove. How did you know my size?”
“Umm…I measured your waist while I was fucking you.”
Jackson couldn’t stop laughing. “Annie, you’re crazy.” He hugged me and spun me around the room. “Thanks, baby.” He pulled one of his new Harley rider’s shirts over his head, and he was ready to party.
We ventured down to the casino floor for our first night of poker and Jackson was so hyped, he could barely contain himself. “We’re playing in Vegas, baby,” he shouted in the elevator to anyone who was interested and many who weren’t. “You made it happen. I can’t fuckin believe it.”
We sat at the bar closest to the poker room listening to the noise of the slot machines while we waited for our names to come up on the list. Jackson went for a quick smoke before we took our assigned seats and readied ourselves to play some serious cards. I was in seat nine at a one-two, all-in table, and Jackson was at a two-five. I could see him across the room from where I was sitting and seeing the way he was holding his jaw, I knew he was tense.
I rested my arms on the leather bumper, watched the players fiddling with their chips and took stock of my adversaries. There was only one other woman at my table, and she was older and somewhat dowdy. I was dressed in what I deemed to be an ‘eye-catching’ poker outfit. Black leather boots, a short black skirt and a black and silver shimmery top that showed a definite hint of cleavage. I could tell from the looks I was getting from the male contingent at the table that they regarded me as an easy mark—exactly my intention. The first time the waitress came by, I ordered a Coors and I was ready to rock.
Seat six was the chip leader at the table. He was a Mike Tyson look-alike with numerous tats. I checked under his chair for a tiger. Nope. After a quick tally of his chips in my head, I put him at eight hundred plus. I folded my first four hands and watched the gentlemen play. Jackson insisted it was always advantageous to get a read on the competition. The lady at the end in the flowered dress was playing super tight. She folded everything that was dealt to her and had yet to play a hand.
My big blind—I peeked at my cards and had pocket nines. Seat two called the blind, seat five raised to thirty, seat seven called the raise and I called.
Four players. The flop came Queen-Nine-Two. Two of the cards were hearts. Seat two checked, seat five bet fifty bucks, seat seven folded, I called and seat two folded.
Heads up. The turn card was a King of clubs. Not a good card for me if buddy in seat five had Jack-Ten. Seat five bet another fifty bucks and I called. The river was a deuce. Seat five pushed all-in. I knew he had the straight. The dealer stacked his chips and gave me the count. Ninety bucks. I called. He flipped over his Jack-Ten and started reaching for the pot. When I turned over my full house, he stood up and went for a walk. The dealer pushed me the pot and I got busy stacking my chips.
A couple of the guys said ‘nice hand’ and I knew they would be a little warier of the hands they played against me in the future. In the next hour, I played two or three hands and folded after the flop. I wasn’t hitting much. I stretched my legs with a walk to the powder room and on my return trip, I cruised by Jackson’s table to check out his chip stack. He was in good shape and was up about three hundred. I gave him a smile and went back to my seat.
My first hand after I returned to the table was pocket aces. I was hoping my poker face was holding me in good stead. Jackson had worked with me at home getting rid of my tells. When I first played on-line with him, I yelled ‘yahoo’ every time I got a good hand—that’s a tell. Seat seven was under the gun and raised to sixty bucks, everyone folded around to me. I called, the rest of the table folded and we were heads up. The flop came Seven, Eight, Ten of clubs and I was holding the two red aces. Buddy shoved all in and I figured he had at least one club. I hated to do it, but I folded my aces. He smiled as he pulled in the chips and I knew that he had bluffed.
You won’t make me fold again, buddy.
The very next hand, I couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw aces again. What are the odds? (1/48,841) I figured seat seven would be overconfident and take another run at me. He was a blond kid in a hoody with ear buds and he was in the big blind. Seat eight folded, I raised pre-flop to fifty. Everyone else folded around to seat five. He called and seat seven called. Game on.
Three players. The dealer burned a card and the flop came Ten-Three-Jack. The action was on buddy-boy—he checked. I bet seventy-five. Seat five folded. Seat seven check-raised to one-fifty. I nodded and called.
Heads up. The turn was Ace of Hearts. Possible straight for buddy, trips for me. Seat seven had the action—he bet two hundred bucks. I thought he must have King-Queen, if a King comes we split, if the board pairs, I win. I called. He smirked. The dealer flipped up the river card. Holy smokers. The case ace. I couldn’t believe it. Buddy in seat seven said all in. I knew he had a boat. I took my time and made him wait, then said, “Okay. I call.” I turned over my pocket aces.
The dealer said, “Quad aces.” Then she yelled. “High hand” and a pit manager came over and took down information for a payout.
Jackson was so right—this was fun. With all the commotion at my table, Jackson had wandered over to see what was happening. He just stood back and smiled, watching me make rows out of my chips. He winked and returned to his game.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
GETTING USED TO the time change took longer than I’d imagined. I figured driving westward through the time zones would, in itself, help to normalize our sleeping patterns, but I was waking up at four in the morning waiting for the alarm to go off. During the night, I started several times when sirens raced each other down the strip to yet another Vegas emergency.
Jackson had done well his first day at the tables, and he was hyped. In a little shop on the main floor of the hotel, I bought him a notebook to keep track of his buy-ins and his winnings. He was still pretty much in a dream world, and in the unpredictable land of poker, reality would soon kick him in the head.
He slept soundly, snoring softly as I eased out of the big bed and pulled on a pair of short
s and a t-shirt. Angel stood up on her blanket and yawned when she saw me getting up. I clipped on her leash and we tip-toed out of the room. Downstairs, after her walk, she waited by my side while I bought coffee and muffins to take upstairs. She needed more running room than the hotel offered, and I was trying to come up with a workable solution.
I was successful sneaking back into our room without waking Jackson. Sitting at the corner table in one of the easy chairs, I sipped my coffee and marveled at how deserted and peaceful the strip seemed in the early morning hour. The mountains rising out of the desert in the distance reached up into the low-hanging clouds and rendered a timeless background to the sleeping city. My glance turned from the window to the king-sized bed and watching Jackson sleep made me smile. He was one of the bad boys—no way around it—but he was nothing but good to me—the same way George had been, and I adored both of them.
When I came out of the bathroom after my shower I found him slouched at the table by the window in his briefs, drinking coffee. He looked up and smiled. “You were up early, Annie,” he said in the soft tone that he reserved exclusively for me. “Everything okay?”
“Still on Toronto time, I guess.” I sat on his lap, cuddled into him and kissed him.
“Want to go back to bed for a while, baby? It’s still early.” He stroked my hair.
“You’re impossible to resist, cowboy. I want you night and day,” I whispered in his ear.
He grinned, scooped me up and tossed me on the bed. “What happens in Vegas, baby.”
I laughed as he rolled me out of my towel and flopped down on the bed beside my naked body. My hair wasn’t dry and the dampness around my neck gave me shivers. Jackson lay on top of me and kissed me with his mouth open while he pushed his thigh up between my legs and rubbed on me. I clutched at his back, pressing his chest down on my breasts. His erection grew in my hand as I stroked him gently. He was panting now and growling low in his throat as he entered me, pulling me closer and closer with his hands firmly under my ass. With a final thrust, my orgasm brought him home and I hollered loud enough to be heard in the casino. We slept.