“Ms. Walker?” the valet calls from the door.
I chuckle as I walk toward the door, and Laura is pulling at the hem of her tank top to no avail.
“You know that’s not ever going to cover your ass, right?”
“Whatever,” Laura responds, but I know she’s pissed and worried her ass crack is on display.
“Leggings aren’t pants.”
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Best Tip of the Day
I pull Thor into a gas station and fill him up. Laura goes into the store to pee and buy snacks. One of the problems with traveling is how unhealthy you let yourself be, or is that just me? I feel like I need soda, chocolate, and candy to travel. Apparently so does Laura.
I leave the car and walk into the store and smile at the clerk. Following the arrows for the bathroom, I notice it’s disgusting. I’m tempted to turn around and stop at another place, but my Type A personality stops me from being so inefficient. I pull the stall closed and of course it doesn’t lock. I’m standing there with my purse thinking about how to resolve this problem. I throw the straps around my neck and hover over the toilet while holding the stall door closed. This is why using the bathroom as a woman is totally ridiculous. I should invent some sort of portable sanitary bathroom facility for women with some of my lottery money. I’m thinking this while I wash my hands and use the paper towel to open the door of the bathroom.
“I got orange air,” Laura calls from the front of the store. This is what we’ve started calling cheese puffs.
“Of course you did. A drive wouldn’t be complete without candy and orange air.”
“True story,” she responds and pushes the door open, holding it for me.
“That bathroom was disgusting.”
“Yep,” she agrees and I notice she’s changed clothes.
“Why are bathrooms so gross? Nice skirt.”
“Really?” Laura’s smirk is evident. She changed from her see through leggings.
“I’m just saying, I wish stores would at least bother with fixing the locks on the stalls.”
“So what did you do in the bathroom?”
“I sat on one of those topper things, left the door open. I couldn’t hold the door and my bag. I wasn’t about to put my bag on the floor.”
“Seriously?”
“Yep.”
She shrugs. “Bitches man…”
“Sometimes I hate being a woman.”
“Every other Wednesday,” Laura agrees.
I hang a right into the drive up to the Wynn hotel and it’s gorgeous. I’ve never been to Vegas and really don’t know what to expect. In all honesty I’m ready to get to Napa and sort of make a temporary home for myself. All this traveling is starting to wear on me.
“This is amazing,” Laura’s voice cuts through my thoughts.
“It is.”
“I booked you what they call a Salon Suite. It has a living room, bar, bedroom and bathroom.”
“Okay.”
“It also has a massage room.” She wiggles her eyebrows up and down. “If you know what I mean.”
I can’t help but laugh, even if I don’t feel like it. “Are you staying next to me?”
“No,” she answers and looks down, examining her iPad. “I’m staying in a regular room.”
My eyes narrow as I scrutinize her features.
“Well, fine. It’s got a panoramic view,” she confesses. “I mean we’re staying for like a week so I thought you wouldn’t mind a small upgrade. You said you didn’t want to stay together.”
I don’t say anything because it’s true I told her I wanted my own space for this stop and I do. Since Denver I’ve been craving alone time. Traveling with someone is hard, even if you are great friends. Alone time is mandatory. But, the cost of this is adding up and I’m starting to get a little nervous and snappish. I don’t want to snap at her, it was my fucking idea.
“How much is your room?”
“It’s $339 a night, for nine nights, so around $3,000,” she calculates quickly.
“Mine?”
“Yours is $500 a night, which isn’t too bad if you look at what you’re getting.”
“Whatever.” I smile at the valet as he opens my door. I step out and know I am not the typical guest here. I’m wearing short jean shorts, a t-shirt and flip flops.
“Checking in?” he asks.
“Yes,” Laura pipes up.
I’m already sweating. It’s like a thousand degrees here.
He motions us in the direction of the lobby and gets all of our luggage out. “We’ll send the bags up once you’re checked in.”
“We have two rooms.” Laura walks over and separates the luggage. “These are mine. Laura Hendrix.” She pulls her skirt down and joins me as I’m walking up to the registration desk. “Holy shit,” she whispers as we enter the building. “This is gorgeous.”
The lobby alone is truly magnificent. However, I’m exhausted and annoyed and just want to shower and lie down. So I nod at her.
“Okay, I’m going to give you like an entire 24 hours of sullen behavior, and then we are going to start partying. I’m going to make reservations and get tickets to shows while we’re here. I think we should see the Hoover Dam and the Grand Canyon too.”
“Okay.”
“Oh my Gawd, you’re so annoying right now,” she says to me. “Hi, we’re checking in. Megan Walker and Laura Hendrix. Both rooms are under Hendrix.”
“Yes ma’am.” The clerk types into the computer. “One room and a suite?” His eyes look up in disbelief.
“Yep,” Laura answers.
“Okay, who’s going where?” the clerk asks, looking between us. “You’re…what are they calling you? The Lottery Lolita,” he says with disbelief because I sort of look like someone who got her clothes from a second hand store.
I don’t say anything.
“They will both be in my name, and then we will add Megan so she can have access,” Laura says in a non-answer.
“Okay,” the clerk says slowly. “Whose bags will be where?”
“Laura’s in the room,” she answers.
I turn around, listening to the clicking of the computer, and take in the grandeur of the hotel. It trumps anywhere I’ve ever stayed. I hope this asshole doesn’t tweet or post anything about me being here. That would be annoying. I imagine these employees have to sign some sort of privacy agreement. A girl can dream.
The understated elegance is in every detail of the lobby. The enormous flower arrangement paired with the neutral tones of the hotel itself is like divine chocolate, but for the eyes. The music piped through the speakers is lovely and calming, soothing yet invigorating. The smell is sweet, but not pungent. The entire place has been expertly put together to give you an experience like no other.
I lean into Laura. “We’re underdressed,” I whisper. “Glad you’re not wearing see through tights, though.”
“No one cares what you wear, just as long as you can pay.” Her voice carries through the room and my face colors with a twinge of embarrassment. “My leggings...fuck you.”
“Ladies. Your rooms are available. The bellman will bring your bags up immediately. Please enjoy your stay at the Wynn.”
“Thank you,” Laura responds. We both turn and take a few steps. Laura pulls out the map of the resort.
“What the fuck?” I look at her and then back at the map. “This place is enormous. I don’t even know how to get to my fucking room.”
“Ma’am,” the clerk calls from the computer. “I’ll have Jeremy take you to your suite.” He motions to a guy in a uniform who nods.
“Oh good grief, they need someone to direct you to your room?” I whisper.
“Just women who have no idea why they’re in Vegas,” Laura stage whispers.
“We are going to party, just give me a day.”
“Done,” she agrees and turns to the right.
“Where are you going?”
“To my room, you need space. I want
a shower then I’m gambling.” She stops walking and turns to me. “Nope, I think I’ll only gamble when you’re around. Your luck is off the charts right now. Just text me and we can grab room service or something and then crash for the night. I may go look at the shops. No worries,” she calls as she begins walking again, leaving me with Jeremy.
“I’m not an idiot.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“I’m just exhausted, we drove from Phoenix.”
“Wow, really?” This gets his attention.
“Yes, I just want a drink and a shower.”
He’s guiding me through a casino. The dings and whistles of the machines draw my attention, and I see scores of people sitting at the slot machines. “Do people win any money at these things?”
“Oh yes, all the time,” he answers. “Here.”
I turn to look at him and he hands me a glass of white wine. “Oh, thank you so much. Do they just bill my room?”
“It’s on the house.”
“Oh,” I comment. I take a sip and continue to follow Jeremy up to a hidden bank of elevators that I’m pretty sure I will never find again. “Is this like a mile from the front of the hotel?” I ask because we’ve been walking for at least fifteen minutes.
Silence.
“Here you go ma’am,” he says, making a sweeping gesture to the elevators.
“Okay,” I mutter. “Thanks for the drink,” I call as the elevator closes on me. Exhaustion and anxiety intermingle in my gut. I’m not sure why. My name and face being out there as the one who won over 200 million dollars is just the tip of the meltdown iceberg I know is coming. I can feel the buildup. We all know our bodies, our minds. I know when it’s coming. Listen, I know what you’re thinking. I had a total meltdown or shut down in Albuquerque. Nope, that was not a huge anything. That was just me being a girl and being sad that the love of my life and I won’t work. Can’t work. You’re totally blaming me on walking away, I know. I’m blaming myself. Trust me.
I follow the numbers on the signs for my room. When I open the door, it’s quiet with a gorgeous view of the entire strip. I throw my backpack down on the floor and walk to the window.
“How the fuck did I get here?” Yes, I say this out loud because I’ve been thinking it for weeks. When you win a massive amount of money they say you shouldn’t make big life decisions. You should not quit your job. You definitely shouldn’t leave your house, your life without a plan. I sigh. I know, I see my problem too. Don’t judge me, you don’t know what you would do. Chad had just ruined my bed and I just wanted a short vacation from life, but I’m starting to feel like I’m wandering around without any goal in mind.
I know, I know, sometimes that’s okay, but not for my Type A personality ass. I need a purpose, an end goal that I’m looking toward. For now, it’s just Napa. I will live there for a bit.
I lean my forehead against the window. “What if I hate it?”
Instead of stewing in my thoughts and mind fucking myself I decide to get in the shower.
I turn the water on and shed my clothes. As soon as I step into the shower I hear a knock on the door. I don’t answer. I’m mortified at my dumbassness. You know I like making up words...Then the door opens. I close my eyes, hoping the person just leaves the bags and goes.
“Ma’am?” A man’s voices calls from the bedroom.
“Uh, yeah. Sorry. I just got in the shower.”
“I need you to sign off on the bags.”
Are you fucking kidding me?
“Really?” I yell.
“Yes, sorry about this.”
I contemplate just making him wait until I’m done. However if I do that, then I won’t enjoy the shower.
“Can you just come in here?” I guess it’s my own fault for not putting the bar lock on. I could kick myself.
“You have to make sure I brought the bags ma’am?”
“Well, you’re either going to have to wait or you can come in here and I’ll sign.” Frustrating mother fucker. I push my wet hair off of my face and try to pretend like I have some sort of poise in this situation.
“I’m sorry…” he starts.
“Just hold out where I’m supposed to sign please,” I interrupt. Pushing open the door so he can hold the paper for me to sign, I’m attempting to cover myself with my right arm. Then I realize I can’t sign my name with my left hand. I grab the pen and paper. “Please turn around,” I huff.
He turns so I can bear down on his back and he isn’t staring at my naked body. As I sign my name I glance up and realize we are standing so he can see my entire body in the mirror. Our eyes meet and I scowl at him. “Fuck,” I mutter and shove the paper at him. “That’ll just have to be your tip.” No dignity left, I try to slam the glass door, which doesn’t slam.
I hear him as he turns to the corner. “Best tip of the day.”
Of the day? What the fuck? This place must be fucked if seeing a naked lady, not in horrible shape, is only the best tip of the day. It makes me scared of this place.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Drunk it is...
I’ve been drinking since I woke up at 4:00 am Vegas time. I’m still on east coast time, or some time zone, just not this one, but I’m getting better. This makes me grumpy. I regret leaving Peter. I can still feel the soft beard on me as he kissed my inner thighs. I totally fucked up. You know when you realize you fucked up and you spend days wondering if you can go back and repair it or change your decision? Yeah, my heart totally wants to take a step toward him instead of away from him, but then my head says “fuck you heart.” My brain says fuck me once, shame on you, fuck me twice, shame on me.
My brain is in an all out battle against a heart that was so battered when he left me I didn’t recognize myself. I turn up the mimosa and stare out at the vacant strip. As I empty my glass an ease worms into the battle. I pour myself the fourth drink this morning. Judge me all you want, I want to have fun today and tonight. If drunk is how it must be, then so be it.
Later, I’m not sure how much later, I’m having a hard time drawing a straight line with my eyeliner. Laura steps into the enormous bathroom, her smoky eyes filled with concern.
“I think you should just drink another drink and pass out. We’ll go out tomorrow night,” she says. Laura gave me the day. Twenty-four hours to have by myself, but it was exactly the opposite of what I needed. I just sat staring out at a town that never sleeps, a town that was so unfamiliar and thought. Thought about my life, Peter and why I did what I did. Thought about how I ended up a twenty-eight year old without any real direction. I know winning the lottery is an awesome thing, but it really is difficult to wrap my brain around. I’m drifting in a river that’s pulling me in a direction, but I’m not sure that’s the way I should be going and for a Type A personality it is scaring the fuck out of me.
“Fuck you, we’re partying,” I retort. At least I can pretend I’m fine. Do you think she buys it? Me either.
“This won’t end well,” she mutters as she leaves the bathroom.
“Hi, we need two burgers and fries. Yeah, bring some Jameson up with ginger ale, too.” There is a pause. “Yes. Thank you.”
I cock my head to the side, we were supposed to be eating at the somewhere else. “Hey, why aren’t we eating at Caesar’s buffet?”
“Because your makeup looks like you have Tourettes, and I’m not going to sit down at a restaurant with you,” she calls from the sitting area.
“You will if I say so,” I comment so she can’t hear. I stare at myself in the mirror and blow out a long breath. “Fine.” I wash off my makeup, walk out of the bathroom, and stare at her. She’s smart and just looking out for me.
“What’s your plan?” she asks, crossing her legs.
“My plan is to have fun, being drunk seems to be a necessity today.”
“Since Denver,” she corrects.
I nod in admission. “Since Denver.”
“If you’re so fucking miserable why did you tell him no? Call
him and get a flight there now. He’ll take you back. I know it. He’s loved you since New York.”
“He loved me?” I say indignantly. “He loved me as he said he was leaving me.”
“You guys were young, he made mistakes. Get over it.” She waves off my comment.
“Lo, are you high right now?” I can’t believe she is being so casual about my heartbreak.
“No, Megan. Are you?” She’s thumbing through a Vegas magazine.
After a beat or two of silence she looks up at me. We stare at each other for a long time.
“I tried to be with him in Denver, I can’t,” I explain. “I don’t trust him. He left me.”
“He took a job,” she says sympathetically.
“HE LEFT ME,” I yell and point to my chest like there is a dagger in it.
“Megan, he took a job. Everyone makes mistakes. If you think you will find someone better than Peter…” Her voice is calm and soft.
“Fuck you,” I explode. “Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you.” My mind isn’t firing on all its cylinders. This is the only come back I come up with.
“Take a fucking nap and we’ll go out later. You are seriously psychotic right now.” She goes back to flipping through the magazine.
It pisses me off so much I stalk over to where she’s sitting, snatch the magazine from her hands, and throw it across the room. I want to say fuck you again, but instead I shrug and slam the bedroom door and stomp over to the bed. When I say I collapse into the bed, I really do.
Chapter Forty
Fuck Your Way Through It
When I wake up it’s pitch black and the lights of the strip make the room bright and luminescent. I stretch my arms and legs and sit up in the bed. The room is still and I know Laura has abandoned me. I’m no longer drunk, but I’m pretty out of it. I stare out the window until all the lights blend together and I think of Peter.
Peter leans in and puts my hair behind my ear, then he licks my neck. I squint at the sun blazing down on the grass where we are lying in Central Park.
“Peter, we’re in public,” I whisper as my toes curl in response to his tongue.
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