by Skyy
“I completely understand.” The clerk waited patiently until Dakota handed her the proper card. “Thank you.” After charging the items to Dakota’s room, she handed the card back as well as her items. “Thank you so much. Come back if you need anything else.”
“Will do,” Dakota replied and then exited the store. Next she found the ladies’ room. She went inside and headed straight for the mirror. She removed the studs from her ears and placed them in the zippered change compartment of her purse. Next she took the newly purchased ones and placed them into her pierced ears. She shifted her head from side to side admiring them while thinking, I hope the clerk was right; that this isn’t too much. Especially, for a business function.
Next Dakota took out her tube of lip gloss and dressed her lips in it. She stared at her lips through the mirror and couldn’t help but think about Aquilla’s pink ones, the ones on her face. Doing so caused her to, this time, quiver. No tingle, at least, just a quiver.
She placed the lip gloss in her purse and threw the bag away. She was now ready to go register for her conference. She backed away from the mirror and looked at herself. She twisted her lips in thought. She opened her purse and dug around for the hair twisty she always kept in her purse for whenever she just wanted to get her hair off her neck. Usually she’d just slap her hair in a messy ponytail, but this time she wanted her locks to sit atop her head.
Putting the twisty around her wrist, she went to the sink, wet her hands, and then pulled her hair up on top of her head. She pulled out a couple of deliberate stray stands and her new five-second hairstyle was complete.
“Yes,” she said with satisfaction. As she looked at herself in the mirror with her updo, a style she never wore her hair in, and her red lip gloss, a shade she had never dared to wear, she hardly recognized herself. Which was the point.
Wiggling her hips in the dress Aquilla had convinced her was made just for her figure, she had to 100 percent, wholeheartedly agree. She winked at herself and was on her merry way.
Within minutes she was in the lobby where registration and the reception were taking place. After exiting the elevator that had brought her to her final destination, she had spotted the long registration table. It felt like a mile away amidst all the chattering insurance industry folks, who were 95 percent men. They were all mingling, networking, drinking, and socializing. Dakota felt like a minnow in a shark tank, but she shook that feeling off. The Dakota who would have coward up, been invisible as she made her way over to the registration table, registered, and then gone back to her room for the night, was hundreds of miles away. The new and improved Dakota looked too damn good and had spent $200 to look that good, although the total package was valued at $1,200. But if you included the body up under all the accessories—priceless! So she wasn’t about to hide up under her shell.
Dakota sashayed over to the registration table, greeting anyone her eyes locked with along the way. She’d never realized how confident looking someone in the eyes made a person feel. How confident it made her look to others. People were looking at her like she was a boss chick. Like she had it going on. She could see the vote of confidence in their eyes. People were rooting for her and she had no idea why. Was this how people had always looked at her, or was it the dress, four-inch pumps that literally pushed her up to another level, the earrings, or red lip gloss? She had no idea because she’d never paid attention. Well, now she was. And what she really liked was that others were paying attention too—to her.
Chapter 7
“I’m sorry. I don’t see a Marie Smith on the registration list,” said the female handling registration for participants whose last names ended in S through Z. “I see an Amy Smith, Dakota Smith, a—”
“That’s me. Dakota Marie Smith.” Dakota smiled away her embarrassment. She was taking this Marie thing too far. Sure it was her middle name, but the only time anyone ever used it was when they were scolding or trying to let her know they meant business. Here in Vegas she’d taken the edge off of the name. But standing there at the registration desk was just a reminder of who she really was, and not to get too comfortable with this whole alter ego thing.
“Oh, okay, you’re Dakota,” the clerk said with raised eyebrows.
“Sorry. All my friends and family call me Marie. I’m so used to going by Marie. I forget who I really am sometimes.” That wasn’t totally true. But the plan was to at least forget while she was in Vegas.
“No problem.” The registration clerk had found truth in Dakota’s lies. She began gathering a folder, papers, notebook, and pen. She placed it all in a nice tote bag that was branded with the name of the conference on the front and the sponsors on the back. “Here you go, Ms. Smith.” She handed Dakota the bag. “And just one second while I get your nametag.” The woman eyeballed the rows of alphabetically placed name badges in sturdy clear plastic attached to a lanyard. “And here you go,” she said once she came across Dakota’s. She extended it to her.
“Thank you.” Dakota took the badge and placed it inside her tote instead of placing it around her neck. She’d save doing that for during the actual sessions. Right now, she had a thousand dollar dress she needed to show off and she didn’t want some eyesore of a badge to take anything away from it.
There was a slight chill in the room. The temperature at most conferences was usually freezing cold. The fact that this one was in a desert state only gave them more of a reason to keep a chill going. Dakota tried to discretely look down to make sure her hardened nipples weren’t poking through the material of her dress. She was safe. Feeling comfortable, she made her way over to the open bar that was serving cocktails.
“And what can I get you?” the bartender asked.
Dakota looked to the man standing next to her who had already been waiting when she walked up. She looked back to the bartender. “I think this gentleman was next.”
Realizing Dakota was referring to him, the man tore himself from the conversation he was having with another attendee. “Oh, no, I’ve been taken care of already. Thank you anyway.” He then quickly, and not in a creepy way, gave Dakota the once-over. “But even if I hadn’t been, ladies first.”
Dakota returned the smile he was throwing her way. She then turned to the bartender and ordered an, “Apple martini, please.” She had no idea what an apple martini even tasted like. She just remembered the women on one of her favorite shows of all time, Sex and the City, ordering them. She’d lived vicariously through those women once upon a time. Well now she was living vicariously through herself.
“One apple martini, coming up!” The bartender took one more order from a man who had walked up on Dakota’s other side then went to prepare both drinks. A minute later Dakota was placing a dollar bill in the tip glass on the bar and sipping on her drink as she cased her surroundings.
“Hello. How are you? Good evening.” She greeted everyone she made eye contact with.
“Beautiful dress,” one of the very few other women there complimented Dakota.
“Thank you. It’s new.” Dakota back in Flint would have downplayed the compliment and told the woman how she’d had the dress in her closet for years and had just decided to get some wear out of it. Whether that was true or not, she never was one who could just accept an outright compliment. It was like she didn’t deserve it or something. But not tonight. She felt worthy of any compliment that came her way.
An hour and two martinis later, Dakota had greeted at least half the people in the room, exchanged names and some light information from others about where they worked and where they were from. Of course there was industry talk as well. For the most part, Dakota was pleased with her little venture. But after two martinis she had one other place to venture off to.
“The ladies’ room?” she asked the same woman who had registered her. The woman pointed and Dakota followed her finger with her eyes. “Thank you.” She set her empty glass down on one of the tall, skirted tables made for standing only and, with tote bag in hand, made her way
to the ladies’ room.
After entering the stall and closing the door behind her, she placed the tote, which now contained her purse, on the hook on the back of the door. Next she lifted her dress and went to pull her underwear down, only to find her nails slightly scratching her skin. “Oh snaps.” I’m not wearing any. Dakota began to laugh like the tipsy chick she was.
She managed to take care of her business, stumbling only once. The alcohol was starting to play with her a little bit. Her tolerance was really low because Dakota was good for babysitting a drink all night: that same one drink, chasing it with a Coke or water. Needless to say, there was never an argument among her and her girls about who the designated driver would be.
She pulled out her cell phone to check the time. It was around 7:00 p.m. The evening was definitely still young Vegas time, but her body was still on Eastern Standard. Besides that, it had been a long day. It was ten o’clock at home. Unless it was Thursday and she had plans to spend the next hour with Olivia Pope and cast, she would be in bed, resting up for work the next day. Even on weekends she’d find herself turning in, leaving the television on only to put her to sleep.
That did not sound like the life of a twenty-five-year-old. Why hadn’t she realized that before? Even so, no one could blame her for wanting to tap out this early. She’d been up and at it since the break of dawn.
Putting her phone away, Dakota exited the bathroom and headed for the elevators. She pushed the up button. When it arrived, the doors opened to an older man. He was pushing about seventy in age, but had clearly kept himself in tiptop shape, having the body of a fifty-year-old. His smooth brown skin had few wrinkles. He made a wise decision about coloring the gray in his hair. It was very becoming and attractive on him.
“Good evening,” he greeted Dakota as she got on the elevator.
“Evening,” Dakota returned. The elevator doors shut in front of her.
“Which floor?” the gentleman asked.
“Eleven please.”
He turned and looked at her. “Oh, this one is going down.”
“Shoot.” Dakota slightly stomped her $150 pump. Well, seventy-five dollar, since it was just half of the pair. She hadn’t even paid attention to the up or down arrow when the elevator had arrived. She’d just jumped on. “Oh well. I guess I’ll just have to ride it back up.” Dakota looked at the elevator keypad and saw that the casino button was lit up. “Going to get your gamble on, I see.”
Dakota really wanted to take back and swallow her words. She was talking to this man as if he was some young, hip guy. On top of that, he looked to be from India or something. If he was anything like the students from India Dakota had gone to school with, he was probably brilliant and didn’t butcher the English vocabulary in any aspect. Perhaps she was stereotyping; still, she hoped she hadn’t appeared like some unprofessional ditz.
“Actually, I am going to go try my luck. See what comes of it,” he said. “And you? Do you gamble?”
“Oh, no. I’d rather give it to the homeless than to a machine.” She laughed. “Besides, I’ve heard horror stories about people gambling their lives away.”
“Oh, those are people who gamble for something other than fun.”
“Fun? There’s such a thing as gambling for fun?” Dakota shrugged. “I guess; if you call losing all your money fun, so be it.”
“There’s penny slots. I would hardly consider losing five hundred pennies putting anybody in the poorhouse.”
“Pennies?” Even though the city of Detroit was a neighboring city of Flint and housed the infamous MGM Grand Casino, that just wasn’t something that ever interested Dakota. Trice and Shyla loved driving over to Detroit and spending the night gambling. Dakota had always passed. In spite of the girls trying to convince her otherwise, she just couldn’t see where withdrawing her money from the ATM and in turn feeding it back into another machine, with no guaranteed return, was fun. And now here this gentleman was even telling her one could feed pennies to the machine. Really?
“Yes. They have penny slots,” the man confirmed as the elevator stopped. “You really should try it.” The elevator doors opened.
“Nah. I think I’m going to go with my first instincts and turn in for the night.”
The man stepped out of the elevator, but turned to continue his conversation with Dakota. “It’s far too early for a young girl like yourself to be heading up to her room.” The elevator door went to close, but he stuck his hand out to stop the door from closing, then continued to hold it open. “But hey, who am I to judge? You could have your husband up there waiting in your room for you with a bubble bath, wine, and chocolates.” He looked down at her hands, mainly her left one. Her ring finger. “Well, do you?”
Dakota smiled and shook her head.
“Then what’s stopping you? Come on, you only live once.”
Dakota shook her head again.
The man shrugged and tsked. “Oh well. Enjoy your evening.” He gave her a salute as the elevator doors closed.
Dakota hit the button and the elevator began its upward climb. The entire ride up there was this voice in her head saying, I can’t believe you are going to let an old man outdo you, have fun in the casino while you go catch some Zs.
By the time the elevator reached Dakota’s floor and the doors opened, she’d had a change of heart. She hit the close door button, next the casino button, then waited as the elevator took her back down to the casino.
Once she exited the elevator, she had that entire Alice in Wonderland thing going on again. Lights flashing, music from the machines, maybe a live band somewhere; Dakota wasn’t sure where it was coming from, but she heard music. She heard laughter and screams of excitement. This was a whole new world: one she was willing, ready, and able to conquer.
She slowly walked around like a deer in headlights as she watched people gamble, drink, and smoke. Back in Flint smoking wasn’t allowed in public places, and neither was walking around the streets with an open alcohol container either. But in her cab ride back from shopping, she’d seen several people indulging in alcoholic beverages while they walked the strip.
After milling around for a while, Dakota looked up and saw that the area of slot machines she was at had signs that read 1 CENT hanging above them. A gambler she was not, but the old man was right. Losing 500 pennies wasn’t anything like losing $500, so she went into her purse and retrieved her wallet. She pulled out a ten dollar bill then found an empty slot machine to sit down and play at.
“Oh, I’m playing that one too,” a middle-aged black woman said to Dakota as she went to sit down.
That’s when Dakota noticed that the woman’s leg was resting on the bar on the bottom of the chair she was about to sit down in. The woman also had some card or something on an old-fashioned telephone cord–looking thing. It was plugged into the slot machine.
“Oh, sorry,” Dakota said, then moved on to the next empty penny slot she saw. “Is it okay to sit here?” She decided to ask the person on either side of her this time.
“Oh, no, baby,” an older woman said.
The other person was too into whatever it was going on at their machine to offer a verbal reply. He just shook his head with a look on his face that cursed the day Dakota was born for interrupting his love affair with the slot.
Dakota sat down and examined the machine. Once she discovered where she should stick the ten dollar bill she did just that. There were some bells and whistles and then the machine patiently waited for Dakota to place a bet. Not realizing what she’d done, she hit the MAX button. A few objects scattered about on the screen in front of her; then the next thing she knew the machine started singing and there was this voice telling her it was time to do the progressive.
Dakota had no idea what the heck was going on or what to do next, but then the money bags that appeared on the screen made it obvious. She touched one of the bags and it burst open. The number 500 appeared; then there was a pause. She touched another bag, 120 appeared. She touched
two more bags and the numbers 1,000 and 300 appeared. The next bag she touched made this wonk wonk sound, there was a splat, and then the number zero. Her machine start doing this repetitive clinking sound as if someone was feeding it coins and the numbers under the CREDIT portion started getting higher and higher. When all was said and done, Dakota had 2,830 credits, which was 1,830 more than she’d started with. After that much excitement, Dakota figured that machine had done all it was going to do to entertain her, so she looked over the machine until she saw a button that read CASH OUT.
She hit that button and heard that same clinking noise, only no coins were falling out of the machine. Instead the machine spit out some slip of paper. She pulled it out and held it up to examine. She discovered that it was a voucher worth twenty-eight dollars and thirty cents.
“Not bad, depending on what you started with.”
Startled by the voice, Dakota turned around to see who was taking to her. Her face relaxed when she saw a familiar face. “Oh, hi again.”
“I see you decided to come down here and join us lost souls who have decided to gamble our life savings away.”
Dakota laughed at the older man’s sense of humor. “Yes, I did. You made me feel as though I was missing something. And I didn’t want to miss a thing,” Dakota replied.
“So ...” He nodded toward Dakota’s voucher. “How much did you start out with?”
“Oh.” She put her attention back on the voucher. “Just ten dollars.”
“Okay.” He nodded his approval. “Then you made a come up.”
“Beginner’s luck, I’m sure.”
“Well, I’m glad for you, this vet is already down more than I care to admit.” He thought for a second, snapped his finger, and then said with excitement, “I got it. You’re beginner’s luck.” He grabbed Dakota by the hand. “Come with me.”
She couldn’t even refuse before the man was dragging her across the casino. What was it with the folks in Vegas dragging her around like she was some rag doll? Eventually Dakota and the man came to a halt at a long table, not long enough to be a pool table though. Several people were gathered around it. Different colored chips sat in front of people as dice rolled.