Of course I did, but I hadn’t thought much farther than a roof over my head and a place to take a shower. I needed towels, and at least one pot to cook instant noodles in.
“Yeah,” I said, swallowing the lump back. “I definitely will. I didn’t even think about it. And a job, too.” I sighed so heavily the surface my coffee rippled.
“It’s okay,” he said, glancing at his phone at exactly the moment it lit up and buzzed across the tabletop. “Ah, okay. Good.” He shoved it back in his pocket before I could read what was on the screen and stood up like he was on a mission. “You sit tight here. I mean, not right here—here at the Starr. Get some sleep, and you’ll hear from me in a few hours. Okay?”
“Ohhhkay.” I said, turning my head to the side and looking at him with suspicious eyes. “What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to do what Shooting Starr hosts do best,” he said, already starting to turn. “Take care of our guests.”
And then he was gone.
I shook my head. It was entirely possible I’d just imagined all that because seriously? Where in the world do people just offer to help you, tell you to sit tight, and then actually do what they promised? The only person I’d ever known to do that was sitting in a hospital bed right now, and she needed my help—not for me to rely on a very hot guy working at a cheap hotel just off the Vegas Strip.
So I gathered my purse up and headed to the front desk. The girl behind the counter helped me figure out how to get wireless on my computer, and then it was back to my room. I sat at the desk and tried to block everything else out—the rattling air conditioning unit, the sort-of-smoky-and-sort-of-moldy smell of the carpet, the weird stain on the wall, the loose thread springing up out of the bedspread.
I opened my laptop and started searching for jobs.
Chapter 6
As an almost-graduate with experience in child life therapy, there wasn’t much I was qualified to actually do in hospitals. The few hospital-based things I could think of—running a support group for families with sick children, admitting people through ER security, and actual child-life work—had no job postings in sight. I emailed the charge nurse at St. Christopher’s in case she knew of any potential openings and beefed it up by reminding her of Mom’s situation and including stories Mom had told me of how much she loved working at that hospital—some of them more true than others. I crossed my fingers and hit send.
I wracked my brain for what else might be out there. I loved kids, and I was trained in CPR, so maybe a nanny or babysitting position would be open somewhere. But all of the positions not only wanted college degrees but were out of town and spanned visiting hours at the hospital, five days a week. I needed to be able to go see Mom at least sometimes. The few daycare positions I found open required college degrees, too, or only had occasional opportunities available. I needed a guarantee of cash.
So the job thing wasn’t working out so brilliantly. Maybe it would be easier to find an apartment, but I before I started that, I needed a few minutes’ break.
I called the hospital to check on Mom. Her vitals were still the same, but she was complaining about increased headache pain, so they’d taken her for an MRI, just to look at her brain a little more. She still didn’t really seem to remember Carol, but at least she wasn’t agitated around her. Carol was planning to leave the hospital at the end of her shift—she’d stayed the night just to be there with Mom—so they’d given Mom a sleeping aid to get her through tonight. I even spoke with the charge nurse, who urged me to stay in and get some rest myself.
Yeah, right. Back to the new-life-in-Vegas housing hunt.
I scoured one rental site after another, trying to find a place that was in a safe area, was on the bus route that went by the hospital so I could get there quickly, and had at least some furniture. Even if it didn’t, I reasoned, I could get a cheap sleeping bag and some pillows and be just fine. The lists started popping up in my brain again. What were the bare minimum household goods I could get away with here in Vegas for a few weeks? Could I borrow some stuff from Mike? Would that be weird? The lump was back in my throat, and I tried to push all the complicated stuff away. One step at a time, Andi.
I found a few places that, although seeming kind of sketchy, were within my budget, but then I realized almost everything required a year-long lease; anything under that increased the price fifty percent. Plus, I had no idea where I’d be working, so I had no idea how transportation costs would add to it. For a second, I thought maybe I could borrow Mike’s car since his leg was broken, but then I remembered his car had been smashed in the accident. That just got me thinking about Mom lying in her hospital bed again, and before I knew it, tears were flowing down my cheeks and a heavy ache had moved into my head.
I was so tired, so sad, so lost. By now, the sun was going down, and I hadn’t had a thing to eat, but crying always made me feel like I was going to throw up so it was kind of moot. It was all I could do to curl up on top of one of the blankets—no way I was getting under the moldy-smoky covers—and fall asleep.
Crying always exhausted me to the point of no return. When I finally woke up, the sun was starting to rise again, making the sky out my window a dull violet color. I must have been out for ten hours, and my morning breath was good evidence of that. At least my headache was gone, even if it did take me a good ten minutes to convince my shoulders to lift up off the bed. I dug my toothbrush and tiny tube of toothpaste out of my duffle bag, scoffing at my own stupidity in thinking I’d be here a short enough time that I’d only need that much. My feet thudded heavily on the floor as I traipsed toward the bathroom. I peeled off the clothes I’d been wearing for twenty-four hours, cranked the shower to hot, and adjusted the head so it was a strong, pounding stream of water.
I stood there for long minutes, pressing one palm to the wall and bowing my head, begging the water to melt away all the tension, worry, and stress. When the steam in the bathroom grew so dense I felt like I might pass out, I scrubbed my whole body, mentally adding a razor and shaving cream to the list of toiletries I had to get, then loaded up my toothbrush and scrubbed all the nasty fuzziness from my teeth and tongue.
I didn’t even look in the mirror when I got out. There was no point really. I was one of those lucky girls who had dark brows and lashes, full lips, and relatively clear skin, which all added up to one amazing thing: I didn’t really need makeup to look like a human being. Besides, I was going to go to the hospital and then come back here for what would hopefully be a better day of apartment and job hunting. Didn’t need to look gorgeous for that.
Wrapping the scratchy, ridiculously-too-small towel around me, I stepped out of the bathroom in a cloud of steam. It was only then that I saw a white, half-folded sheet of paper slid just under my door.
A—
I knocked a couple times, but you must have crashed. I can help you find a place and a job. Be ready with all your stuff at 4:00—I’ll meet you down in the lobby.
—R
A thrill ran through me—one because Ryder really had done what he said he would, which I’d never ever expected, and two because I wouldn’t have to stay in this musty room another night. Maybe.
But first thing’s first: I needed to check on Mom.
At the hospital, I sat and talked with her for a little while about the weather and about how she was feeling—still in a lot of pain from her surgery, still sleeping a lot because of the painkillers they’d given her. I also spoke to Dr. Ernest when he came through on rounds. He showed me the results of Mom’s MRI and confirmed there had been a brief loss of blood flow to Mom’s hippocampus.
“If it had been prolonged,” he said, “her memories might have become irretrievable. But I’m confident that with a lot of work and love, we can help her remember enough.”
For the next few hours, Mom and I watched one of her beloved soap operas—I tried to fill her in on what had happ
ened based on what she’d told me in our daily conversations over the years—and then I sat answering emails on my phone while she napped. I showed her my touchscreen phone when she woke up and asked about it and spent half an hour trying to teach her how to play the new game everyone was obsessed with.
She shook her head at the thing in disbelief. “Last I remember, you were begging me for a basic cell phone. With buttons.”
I squeezed her hand and watched her tap away.
Just as I was about to leave, Carol rolled Mike in to Mom’s room. Mom looked at him warily and I wanted to as well—but I reminded myself that Mom would have to re-form a relationship with him, would have to remember what it was about him that made her so happy. She would have to do it on her own, too, because I hadn’t been around enough or become close enough with Mike to know anything about it myself.
Carol smiled. “Hi, Maria. Mike was in for some physical therapy consultation, and he needed a buddy to help him work his morning crossword. Said you were always good at them.”
Mike’s eyes glistened, but he looked hopeful. My heart twisted at the sight of this man, who obviously loved my mom a lot. Mom eyed him, and while she didn’t smile, she didn’t freak out either. “I’m sleepy, but I’ll see how much I can help.”
“Oh, you’re the best at these,” he said. “Trust me.”
Carol grinned and wheeled him over to Mom’s other side, then caught my eye and gave me a quick nod. “I’ll be back in to check on you soon, Maria. Okay?”
Hearing that reassured me that Mom would be okay without me, even with Mike in here.
“I need to go take care of some stuff,” I said, squeezing Mom’s hand.
“Hospital stuff? Stuff to do with me?” she asked, her brow furrowed. That was so Mom. She would hate to know that I was doing anything to take care of her—and really, I realized, I wasn’t. It was all Mike handling the insurance stuff and hospital arrangements.
I shook my head with a slight smile. “No, Mamá. I just have some stuff to do for me.”
“Good, baby,” Mom said, squeezing my hand one more time before she let it go. “You need to take care of yourself.”
“Well, I’m here for you too, okay? I’ll call in this afternoon and be back tomorrow.”
Mom nodded, then looked up at Carol. “You’ll stay with us, right? Here with me and Mike?”
“Sure,” Carol said, her eyes flashing to Mike. She cleared her throat. “Whatever you need.”
Guilt twisted my stomach at Mom’s hesitation. I wanted to stay here with her, but if Ryder really had gone through all that trouble to help me find a place and a job, I needed to be there to meet him. Plus, I really did need a place to stay.
Chapter 7
I headed back to the Starr and stuffed all my things back in the duffel bag—not a difficult task—and headed down to the lobby to wait for Ryder. I bounced on the balls of my feet as I scanned the room for him; luckily, I didn’t have to wait long. He was already headed toward me when my eye caught his, and I was so glad I didn’t have to call out to get his attention because I’m sure my voice would have sounded supremely doofy. He looked like a goddamn magazine ad, striding toward me in a black t-shirt and dark jeans. I had to tell myself to control my breathing, he was so gorgeous. As he got closer, I realized there were bags under his eyes.
He gave me a lazy smile as he said, “Hi.” The days’ worth of scruff on his jaw made him look five years older in the best way possible—I wanted to reach my hand up and run it along his jaw. “I’m glad you got my note.” Goddamn, even his voice was sexy. Just the four words “You got my note” might as well have been “please jump my bones.”
I shook my head to clear the hot-guy fog. “Uh, yeah. You were right—I was in bed. Um, I was sleeping.” Smooth, Andrea. Really smooth. “Uh, anyway. A job and a place to stay? You might be my hero.”
“Hey, I’m glad to be of service. I mean, not just in the hotel way. But I like you. You’re not like most girls who come to Vegas.”
I gave a short laugh. “No, I’m sure not.” We locked eyes for a long moment, and I swore if it had been a second more I would have started panting. Ryder reached up across his chest to rub his shoulder, and then I had to look away, or I would have combusted.
“Alright,” he said, “here’s what I’ve got. First, job.” He touched my shoulder—focus, Andi—and turned me to face the casino floor. “See those girls out there?” There were so many girls out there—girls at blackjack tables, girls sweeping, girls carrying drinks.
“Which girls?”
“The ones with the trays.”
“You mean the ones in the short glittery skirts with teeny white tops?”
“Those are the ones,” he said, looking down at me warily. “I hashed it out with our staffing manager for a solid hour and got him to offer up one of those jobs. The outfit’s not ideal and the base pay’s the same as the other jobs, but the skirts get you some of the best tips in the whole casino. And I know you need the cash so…”
Oh my God. He was nervous about my reaction. Honestly, I didn’t love the idea of wearing one of those getups, but I heard what he was saying. This was the best way of getting the most cash with as few working hours as possible.
“I know you want to be at the hospital visiting as much as you can,” he said, echoing my thoughts.
“That’s exactly right,” I said, looking up at him and forcing the worry about the skirts out of my head and a smile onto my face. “This is perfect. I don’t know anything about the job, but I can learn fast, right?”
“Right,” he said, flashing me a beautiful smile. “All these girls were just starting out once, and I know one who will help you out. I made her promise.”
“Really? You did that for me?”
“Well, she’s a sweetheart. And she owes me.” Oh. It was probably his girlfriend. Of course a guy like Ryder had a girlfriend. A girl like me stumbling into a guy like him in Las Vegas was something straight out of a cheesy romantic comedy. I should have remembered when I first laid eyes on him that my life was more like a depressing art film.
“Also, to be honest, most of the job is just looking hot, so you shouldn’t have any problem.”
Wait. Had he just called me hot? My eyes shot up to his face, trying to catch a look of embarrassment or regret at speaking so bluntly but his expression was blank.
Jesus. He was telling me I was hot—and not even trying to hide it.
“Okay, so,” he said, clearing his throat. “A place to stay.”
“You seriously found something?” I asked. “I haven’t been able to find anything halfway decent, mostly because I don’t know how long I’m going to be here and...”
He smiled. “Wow, your brain really does go a mile a minute, doesn’t it?”
“Well, yeah. I mean, I have a lot going on. Is there something wrong with that?”
“No, no. It’s just that every single girl your age I’ve met around here is just…you know…living it up. I’m not used to girls thinking about real-life stuff.”
“Oh,” I said. He’d just named the reason I had never loved Vegas—lots of flashiness, lots of show, with nothing much genuine underneath. I’d always assumed everyone who worked here was the same in that way. “Well, I guess we should go and see it then.” I started toward the entrance, but he brushed his fingers to my arm to stop me. There it was again—that shivery heat running through my body when his skin touched mine. For another moment, visions swarmed through my mind—split-second fantasies of all of his skin, pressed against all of mine.
Holy shit. I really needed to get back on the dating scene. Obviously, it had been way too long since I’d gotten any.
“No,” he said, “I’m driving. The employees park out back.”
“Oh,” I said. “Sorry.”
I followed him on a winding path through the casino fl
oor, past the café, and through the EMPLOYEES ONLY door. We walked past some lockers, through a small break room with a couple refrigerators, and out onto an expanse of asphalt full of mostly beat-up-looking cars and blazing with the last rays of setting sunlight. I squinted and put my hand up over my eyes.
“The brightness takes some getting used to,” Ryder laughed. “Especially when you come from the land of the clouds.”
He led me toward a dust-covered, silver pickup truck, popped open the door, and held his hand out to help me into the cab. I tossed my bag up onto the seat first, then took it. Goddamn, he had such good hands. Strong, with long fingers that weren’t delicate. At all.
The pickup roared to life when he turned the key, and he looked at me sheepishly. “She used to purr, but now it’s more like a growl.”
I laughed. “Well, you have a car, at least,” and then promptly kicked myself for sounding whiney. “I mean, it’s a great car.”
He smiled and reached up to rub the scruff on his jaw. I had to stop looking at this guy, or I would end up jumping on top of him.
As the truck rumbled through the off-the-Strip neighborhoods, I gazed out the window at the red mountains and the palm trees. It wasn’t exactly warm outside, and the setting sun left a chilly edge to the air in the cab. After a few minutes of staring at palm trees against the deepening blue sky streaked with burning gold and wondering if Vegas would see any snow this winter, I realized I hadn’t asked Ryder a thing about where we were going. I hadn’t told anyone I was going with him. I knew exactly two things about Ryder: he worked at the hotel, and he was hot. My stomach flipped with a little panic when I realized I didn’t even know his last name.
Drop Everything Now Page 4