A Gentleman's Affair

by Linn, A. J.

  “Donovan…you didn’t have to do that. I have money.” She puts her arms around me, rewarding me with a very…very nice thank you kiss before she sits down. “And thank you.”

  “You continue to kiss me like that, and I will continue to throw one hundred dollar bills your way,” I reply with a smirk, and we both start to laugh.

  After about two hours of gambling, Scarlett is up a few hundred dollars, and she decides that now that she has what she refers to as “bonus money”, we really need to go shopping. So we leave Excalibur and start the trek back down the strip.

  The strip is now lit up, and the sidewalks are even more packed than they were earlier…tourists no longer poolside since the night air has brought the temperature down a few degrees.

  We make it as far as Paris, where she finally gets to buy a few things, and we go to the top of the “Eiffel Tower” to view the strip. She starts complaining about her feet hurting, asking if we can take a cab back down to “our end”. I am more than happy to oblige, and I agree with her. My feet were actually starting to hurt a little, as well.

  So we take the cab as far as Harrah’s, since it is right next to The Venetian, and they have outdoor vendors that remain up fairly late. Scarlett and I get out of the cab, and her face lights up when she sees all the wares that she has to choose from here.

  “Oooh, shopping!” she squeals. She practically bolts towards the first booth. We are now looking at purses, and she finally decides on one that is dripping in crystals. I pull out my wallet and offer to pay, but she refuses me and hands the vendor cash before I can protest.

  “Bonus money, remember?” She winks at me, before moving on.

  “Right,” I laugh and follow her to the next booth. And the next and the next.

  We stop at the outdoor bar for a cold drink and are lucky to find an empty table. As we weave through the crowd, some drunk, staggering girl slams into me, spilling my drink down my shirt.

  “’Scuse me,” she blurts out in her incoherent state.

  “Don’t worry about it,” I respond with a forced smile.

  “Donovan, you are soaked,” Scarlett says, taking the napkin that was wrapped around her drink, trying to sop up the alcohol from my shirt.

  “The Venetian is really close. I think I’ll just go change. Do you want to come with me?”

  “No, go ahead. I’ll wait for you right here, if that’s okay?” She sets down her bags on what was supposed to my chair and sits down in the one right next to it.

  “Are you sure?” I scan the area before I go.

  “Donovan, I’m a big girl. Go change.” She shoots me one of her famous winks, and I bend down to give her a kiss. “I won’t be long, beautiful.”

  “Okay.” She smiles as I walk in the direction of the hotel.

  Just as I am about to reach my suite, a voice comes out of nowhere…i.e.: the concave area in front of my door. There she is again.

  Danielle. She is like flies at a picnic. Annoying, and always there, landing where they aren’t wanted.

  “Donovan, can I talk to you, please?” she says, in an uncharacteristic-for-Danielle soft voice.

  “What do you want, Danielle?” Annoyed, I pull my keycard from my pocket and slide it through the device on the door.

  “Just give me two minutes, and then I won’t ever bother you again. I promise,” she pleads.

  FUCK! “Two minutes, Danielle.” I push the door open, and she follows me in. “Spit it out. I’m in a hurry.” I walk over to my suitcase, pulling out a clean shirt to change into.

  “So you have a new girlfriend?” she says as she helps herself to a drink at the mini-bar.

  “I don’t have time for this. If that’s what you came here to talk about, you’ve wasted your time. And now you are wasting mine.” I cross the room and go into the bathroom to splash my face with cold water, changing into a fresh shirt.

  “I can’t even ask a simple question?” I ignore her, kicking the door closed with my foot.

  I walk back into the room, and Danielle turns away from the mini-bar, walking towards me with two glasses in her hand, offering one to me.

  “Have a shot with me, and I’ll go.” She smiles her cheating whore fake smile.

  “No thank you,” I say through pursed lips. “Are we done here? I have someone waiting for me.”

  “I know. Who is she?” Still smiling, she is unaware that I’m about two seconds away from tossing her into the hall myself.

  “None of your fucking business, Danielle.” I snap.

  “Here,” she urges me again to take the shot. “For old time’s sake? Then I swear, I’ll go.”

  “Whatever it takes to get rid of you.” I snatch the shot from her hand and toss it back, slamming the glass down on the dresser. “Happy? Now get the fuck out of my room.”

  And the moment that I reach the door and am just about to turn the handle, I hear her beginning to cry. FUCK! Why me?

  “Donovan. My mom is really sick. That’s why I came here to talk to you.”

  I bang my head against the still-closed door a few times, then turn to look at her with a raised brow. “Is that the truth or some sort of manipulation?”

  Danielle’s mom and I were pretty close, actually. How such a kind, caring woman raised such a lying, cheating, whore of a daughter, I’ll never understand.

  “Donovan, it’s the truth,” she says, tears streaming down her cheeks.

  I walk back into the room, suddenly feeling out of sorts and desperately needing to sit down. I sit at the edge of the bed, far away from her, placing my head in my hands in an attempt to stop the spinning.

  “So, what’s going on with your mom?” I ask, looking back up at her, wiping the sweat from my brow.

  “She just hasn’t been herself lately, you know?”

  “No. What do you mean, not herself?” I am definitely smelling bullshit here, but as I said, I liked her mom, so I’ll give her the benefit of the doubt…for about two more minutes.

  “Umm, well…” is all I hear her say before my head becomes so foggy that I can’t make sense out of another word.

  Christ. What the fuck is going on? I’m starting to feel nauseous and extremely dizzy. Danielle’s voice is starting to morph, sounding like something out of a bad horror flick. Everything feels like it’s going in slow motion all of the sudden.

  For some reason, I can’t get any words out, but I can see that she’s watching me closely. Extremely close, as a matter of fact. The room begins to spin out of control and suddenly everything seems to fade to black. I feel myself falling back onto the bed—the way you feel yourself falling when you’re having a bad dream—and I can’t stop it. Out. Cold.

  I wake up after what feels like an eternity has passed. It takes a minute, but my surroundings finally become clear. I check the time on the alarm clock…four thirty in the morning. The suite is eerily quiet, and Scarlett isn’t beside me.

  I pull the covers back, no recollection whatsoever of getting undressed and into bed. I feel like I have a hangover, when I know that I wasn’t even drinking last night. Was I?

  I swing my legs over the side of the bed, attempting to rise to my feet, but my legs feel extremely heavy and unsteady. My entire body feels like it got hit by a bus. Every muscle is aching.

  Fuck. My head is throbbing.

  I place my palms on the firm mattress and push myself off the bed. Something just doesn’t feel right here. I walk across the room to check the only other place that she could be.

  “Scarlett?” I call out, knocking softly on the closed door as I check the bathroom. Nothing. I push the door open seeing that it is, in fact, empty. What the hell?

  I turn on the faucet and splash my face with cold water, leaning over the basin, letting the water drip from my chin for a minute as I try to piece everything together. Where is she?

  Shutting off the water before walking back into the suite, I look around the room again. No pink suitcase. No note from Scarlett. All that I see is the two shot glass
es that are sitting on the dresser…Danielle.

  Fuck!

  I scramble to find my cell to call Scarlett, feeling like I’m in the middle of a very bad dream.

  I see a text message from Scarlett, thank fucking god. But as I begin to read the words, my heart sinks…

  Chapter Twenty

  ~Confessions~

  “I hope she was worth it, you son of a bitch…” was all that her text message said.

  What the fuck is she talking about? I read the words over and over. She hopes that who was worth it? Worth what? Christ.

  Please, feel free to confuse me even more. Welcome to my nightmare.

  I call her: once, twice…five times in a row. No answer.

  Why won’t she take my calls? I don’t give a fuck what time it is, I will continue to call until she picks up. I pace around the room, gripping my cell phone in one hand, the other in a tight fist.

  I glance at the alarm clock. Five forty-five a.m.

  I go over last night’s events again in my mind. Nothing. Why did Scarlett just leave? No warning. No word. No nothing. It just doesn’t make any sense.

  I call her again, and this time it goes straight to voicemail. Think, Donovan. Think.

  So, after an incredible day together on the strip…she just up and leaves without a word? We’ve got that. But why? Why the cryptic text message?

  More pacing. More thinking.

  I send her a text message.

  “Scarlett, we need to talk. Please call me when you get this.” I press send and go back to wearing out the carpet.

  Call the airline. Dead end. They don’t give out information to “non-relatives”. Excellent. Is she still here in Vegas? Did she go back home? Fuck!

  I check the time again. Six fifteen.

  I check my cell phone. No word from her yet. I am exhausted, confused, starving.

  But there is a message from Mike. The topping out party is set for tomorrow at noon. Fuck! I completely forgot about that.

  This is a dilemma. Do I fly back to Malibu to try and find Scarlett? Or do I stay here and attend the party for Pisa…the hotel of my dreams that I have been working on for well over a year now?

  I leave Scarlett another message before taking a quick shower.

  After a hearty room service breakfast, I call down to the front desk to see if Danielle is staying here at the Venetian. I want some answers, and I fucking want them now.

  Room 4312. And I’m off. I take the elevator down to the fourth floor. Being that it is only seven thirty in the morning, I have a feeling that I will, in fact, find her in her room.

  I find her room and knock on the door. No answer. Hmm. I knock again slipping in, “Housekeeping”…and that does it. She answers.

  “Donovan? Uh…what are you doing here?” Clearly dumbfounded, looking ridiculously guilty, she brings her hand up to cover her mouth full of lies…or her bad morning breath. Probably both.

  “Surely you can’t be surprised to see me, Danielle. Step aside,” and I push on the door, walking right past her and into the room. “What the fuck happened last night?” I spit out, getting right to the point.

  “What do you mean?” Closing the door, she rubs the sleep from her eyes while she attempts to play stupid.

  “I am going to give you just one fucking chance to come clean.” I walk over to her, getting up in her face, so that she can have a close-up of just how fucking serious and pissed off I am.

  “We had a shot, then I left,” she lies.

  “Bullshit! What the fuck happened, Danielle?” My fists now clenched, my eyes filled with rage. It takes everything that I have in me not to knock her the fuck out. But I have never—will never— hit a woman. Do I want to right now? Fuck yes.

  “What do you mean, what happened?” She turns and walks away, talking to the wall instead of facing me. “Donovan,” she says, laughing her evil snaky laugh. “You really need to get a hold…”

  “Do NOT fuck with me Danielle! What the FUCK happened last night?” An unrecognizable deep guttural growl escapes my mouth as I stop her mid-sentence, grabbing her by the arms and spinning her around to meet my penetrating stare.

  “Okay, okay!” she shouts out, her lying fear-filled eyes wide. “Let me go!”

  Glaring, I release her, taking a step back.

  “Start fucking talking.” Folding my arms across my chest, the veins begin to bulge in my neck, ready to burst.

  “Okay…” She stares down at the floor as if the right answer was written on the carpet.

  “WELL? I’M WAITING!” I shout out, patience wearing thin.

  “Okay, okay.” She looks back up to meet my stare, tears welling up in her lying bitch eyes. “I, um… sorta put something in your shot,” she murmurs.

  “You ‘SORTA’ put something in my shot? YOU FUCKING ROOFIED ME? What the FUCK were you thinking?” I shout out. There it is…the veins have burst. Mother fucking bitch!

  “I’m…I’m sorry,” she begins to cry.

  “Save it, Danielle. Then what? I need to know everything.”

  She starts to shake, the tears pouring down her cheeks now. “I may have…” She mutters something incomprehensible. Is she speaking in tongues now? Only her and god understood that.

  “What was that?” I step closer to her again, staring down at her through fury-filled eyes. As if it were even possible for me to be any more pissed-off.

  “Tell me what you did to Scarlett!” I demand.

  “Who?” She furrows her brow. Who? Fuck! Still spewing her lies.

  She clearly does not understand just how furious I am, so, I pick up a glass of water from the night table and throw it hard against the wall, watching her duck as the shards shoot in her direction.

  “Do NOT fuck with me, Danielle. She sent me a text last night that said, ‘I hope she was worth it.’ What the fuck did she mean by that?” Clenching my fists again, staring her lying ass down.

  “Oh.” She quickly looks away.

  “OH? Tell me what you did. I want to hear you fucking say it,” I demand, already knowing the answer at this point.

  “Fine. I sent her a text from your cell telling her to come back to the room. I know it was wrong…I’m… I’m sorry,” and the waterworks begin to flow yet again.

  “And then?” I demand.

  “Then…she walked in and found us,” she replies in a small apologetic voice.

  “Found us…doing what? You’ll have to fill in the blanks here, Danielle, since I was PASSED OUT COLD!” I shout.

  “Found us in bed together,” she murmurs, hanging her head.

  “I see,” I respond, trying my best to remain calm as her twisted, fucked-up story unfolds. “Doing what, exactly?” I urge her to finish, shaking my head and trying to make sense of this fucking nightmare.

  If she even says that we “fucked”, I will prepare myself to be arrested for her murder. What the fuck must Scarlett be thinking after seeing us in bed together? My mind is on a downward spiral after hearing her confession.

  “Nothing, I swear! You were passed out. She just stood there for a minute in shock, then she took her suitcase and left,” she continues. “I’m sorry.” She looks down, staring at the floor.

  “You are…sorry?” I shake my head, trying not to strangle her.

  “Yes” is the only word she can manage through her bawling.

  Apology NOT accepted, you batshit fucking crazy bitch.

  “Do you have any idea just what you’ve done?” I shout out as she buries her face in her hands, tears streaming.

  I pace the small area of carpet next to the bed. Fuck! Fuck! At least I have the truth. Now to fix things with Scarlett…if I’m lucky. I pull my cell from my pocket, pulling up Scarlett’s number, and pressing call.

  “Tell her the fucking truth. Explain to her exactly what you did to me.” Knowing that the call will go straight to voicemail, I hand the phone to Danielle, standing over her, glaring.

  She takes the cell and leaves the message. Now we both know
the truth about last night. I only hope that this will convince Scarlett to talk to me again.

  “Done.” She hands me back my phone then walks over to the bed, sitting down on the edge, dropping her head into her hands, crying.

  “Cry all you want, Danielle. Never…and I mean NEVER, come near me or her again. Got it?”

  She looks up with only a nod to offer as an answer.

  “Just tell me why.” I lower my voice, but only because I’m tired of yelling.

  “I guess because I wanted you back, and I thought….” she shakes her head then goes on, “I don’t know what I thought.”

  “And you thought trying to destroy my life would make me want you back?” I quirk my brow, almost laughing at how insane she sounds right now.

  “I wasn’t trying to destroy your life, Donovan. Just your relationship,” she admits, and finally the truth—all of it—is out.

  “We were over a long time ago and, Scarlett or no Scarlett, I would never, ever take you back. Do you understand that?”

  “Yes,” she whispers, unable to look at me.

  “Good. And as I said before, never come near me, her, my friends, or my hotels, again. If you ever fuck with me or my life again, so help me…I will fucking kill you.”

  She looks up, meeting my penetrating stare with her pathetic, tear-filled eyes, knowing that I won’t actually kill her, but getting the point.

  She nods her head, using her shirt as a make-shift Kleenex, and I leave her room, still fuming, yet feeling exonerated at last.

  Thursday morning and still nothing from Scarlett. I don’t blame her. At this point I can only imagine that she is still very angry, not to mention, confused. Just as I am.

  Yesterday was probably the second worst day of my entire life, running a close second to the day that I lost my mom.

  Not being able to talk to Scarlett is literally killing me. I spent last night tossing and turning, the events of the past two days playing out over and over in my head like a bad movie. I think that I slept for maybe an hour, if that.

  I can only hope that having the bitch leave Scarlett that voicemail will work. She needed to hear the truth just as much as I did.