Red Flags

by C. C. Brown

  I was having a terribly hard time getting comfortable on the bar, with scantily clad women, and overly intoxicated men. Jason was standing down in front of me, with a smirk on his face, drinking a glass of whiskey. A tall thin Hispanic guy came barging his way to the bar, making contact with Jason on the way. He stopped just short of me, and started whistling. He looked back and forth between me and Chelsea, but started prodding me to move and shake it. Jason glared at him, but didn’t make a move. The guy was obviously drunk, and as long he didn’t get too close, Jason wouldn’t kill him.

  The guy backed up a bit and sipped on a beer. His eyes were low and displayed nothing but pure sinister lust. I turned my gaze away from him for fear of misinterpretation on his part. Chelsea was grinding her body against, me, prompting me to grind mine back against her. Jason liked what he saw, and the whistling and clapping coming from him grew louder and louder. I could only assume that Jason’s cheering emboldened, or invited the guy back because he made his way back to the bar, this time grabbing and my leg. I screamed at him, and kicked to try and get him off, but he tightened his grab, and slurred, “come on baby.” Chelsea tried to pull me away when Jason shoved his drink into Hunter’s chest and grabbed the guy by his back collar.

  "Get the fuck off my girl or I’m gonna put ya ass out for the night,” Jason yelled, louder than the music and the rest of the rowdy crowd. The guy stumbled onto him, but got up and yelled, “Fuck off man, that’s a nice piece of ass up there.” Jason was sent into a fury and started pummeling the guy’s face. I jumped off the bar, Chelsea following close behind, and rushed over to where the bar patrons had circled around Jason. Two bouncers jumped into the middle and pulled Jason off of the guy. He was red, had a large scratch above his left eye, but was otherwise being fueled by adrenaline and fury. The guy came up holding his eye, which was now all but shut, and had blood dripping from his face.

  Jason and the guy were each taken by one of the bouncers into different rooms. Chelsea and Hunter followed me in the direction that Jason was pulled to, and in a panic, I wondered what sort of trouble Jason was going to get into. Luckily, they were just talking him out of his fit of rage, and I couldn’t help but wonder if the guy knew him, because there was no talk of him being banned, or in any sort of trouble. On the contrary, as Jason gave his account of what happened, the bouncer turned to me and asked if I would like to press charges. I calmly answered no, as my only thought was to get Jason as far away from Coyote Ugly as possible. He looked at me, with an angry look of displeasure and abruptly stood up. He shook the bouncer’s hand, then grabbed mine and led me out of the bar.

  Hunter went back into the bar area to let Ryan and Mila know what had happened since they were on the other end of the bar by the time all of this transpired. Jason led me upstairs, and out onto the catwalk that led to the MGM Grand. I was being dragged over the catwalk, in Chelsea’s oversized heels so I resisted the pull of Jason causing him to stop. He turned, breathing hard, eyes blaring into mine. I sighed and ran my hands through my hair.

  “What is wrong with you? I’m fine, you’re fine, and no one is in trouble…”

  He started to speak but stopped himself. I looked around to see the busy Las Vegas strip still bustling with people who looked happy, drunk, and carefree. No one was even paying attention to yet another one our spats. I looked to him for an answer, and he pulled me close to him.

  He puts his hands on my thigh, then gruffly stated, “this is what’s wrong… this. Clothes would be a good thing Cara. That guy was commenting on your ass, and I can see why.”

  I was shocked by his comment because he said nothing about what I was wearing when he saw me at the hotel. I hit his hand off of my thigh and yelled back, “don’t you dare blame me. I did nothing wrong here, I didn’t even want to be on that damn bar.”

  He looked at me and simply shook his head, saying nothing. His cell phone buzzed and he took it out and silenced it. My phone started buzzing and I pulled it out of my back pocket to see Chelsea calling. Jason shook his head and I shut it off. His phone buzzed again, and I reached for it to see Mila calling. He answered the call and while I couldn’t hear what she was saying, I heard her high pitched, startled shrieks blaring through the phone. Jason’s eyes got big, and he ran his fingers over his mouth, yelling “shit” while doing so. I motioned with my hands asking what was wrong, but he just shook his head and continued listening to Mila’s high pitched storytelling. He hung up the phone and looked at me.

  “Who called you?”

  “Chelsea. Why? Why was Mila calling? What was that about?” I spouted out question after question, in a desperate attempt to find out what had him so rattled.

  “Mila called to tell me that some fucks in there got me on video.”

  “Okay! And?” Not understanding why he was shocked, when smartphones were in almost everyone’s possession these days.

  “AND?” He yelled, “that shit’s all over the internet and my name is plastered to it. Do you know what this means Cara?”

  “No Jason, I don’t. What does it mean?”

  “It means if this shit gets back to my parents, my Dad is going to roast my ass. It’s bad for business.” The other four came walking down the catwalk to where we were, not sure how to approach the two of us. Chelsea put her arm around my shoulder, while Mila ran up to show Jason the video. He watched with a pained look on his face. “Fuck me. My dad is going to have my ass,” he muttered, and started walking down the catwalk. I refused to go after him. He blamed me for his outrageous outburst, when the simple fact of the matter was that he has little to no self-control. Ryan decided to be the brave soul who scrambled after him, partly because he was our driver and knew that he couldn’t leave without him, but also because Ryan was calm, and on the same level as Jason.

  Another half hour passed before they showed back up. Jason looked visibly calmer, while Ryan looked relieved. The rest of us stood on the catwalk, hopeful that our night had not been completely ruined. Jason took my hand and led the group across the catwalk into the MGM casino. He claimed to be feeling lucky and wanted to try his hand at Roulette. I kindly reminded him that Roulette had the worst odds in the house, and the smile that I got in return told me that he was just fine blowing money right now. He wanted to be reckless and carefree because he figured whatever the blowback might be from the video was going to be pretty bad.

  We found an empty Roulette table and Jason flagged down a cocktail waitress. Before trading in $500 for chips, he ordered all of the guys Whiskey Sours, allowed Chelsea and Mila to order for themselves, but got me a straight cranberry juice. He winked at me and reminded me that he hated when I drank and, I should be the sober one for the two of us in case he got out of control. Might be too late.

  After about 20 minutes and almost $500 later, Jason had done nothing but get more intoxicated, and lose money. Ryan and Hunter finally joined and had actually won a little, which bolstered Jason because in his drunken state, he saw their winnings as a challenge. He traded in another $500 and decided to lay all of it out on zero. I swooped in to be the sober one between us to make sure he was aware of the lunacy that he was engaging in. He kissed my hand and set his deal, and the dealer closed out all bets and turned the wheel. I closed my eyes, afraid of the outcome and unable to fathom placing $500 on such frivolous activity. The Roulette wheel looked like it was moving at the speed of snail. My mind couldn’t wrap itself around the fact that Jason was about to lose a car payment’s worth of money on something that took him no brain cells and three seconds to decide to do. I heard the wheel beginning to slow, and breaking me from my reverie was a loud chorus of hooting and hollering. Chelsea screamed at the top of her lungs, and Mila was jumping up and down like a cheerleader. Jason slammed his fists onto the table, and high fived Hunter and Ryan as he yelled, "FUCK YEAH!” I looked at the Roulette wheel to see that the ball had landed on zero. In all actuality, there was a less than 3% chance that he would actually win, and with a $500 bet, he stood to make over
$17,000.

  I couldn’t believe my eyes and the atmosphere, while jubilant and carefree, still felt completely unreal to me. I was not sharing in the celebration. Jason caught my mood and walked over to me, kissing me roughly with his whiskey filled breath, and took me in his arms. “Why so sad gorgeous? I just won you a shit brick ton of money.” What? Just won me money? The words made no sense to me. I didn’t ask him to do this. In fact, if I had my way, he would have never wasted that money, and we would have enjoyed some light and friendly gambling mixed with a few drinks. He may have won the money, but it was stupid and thoughtless.

  “Jason, you didn’t win me any money, that’s yours,” I reiterated. He needed to know that I in no way expected him to win money for me.

  He leaned down to my ear, nibbling on it seductively, and lightly whispered, “Gorgeous, I went ballistic on you for no good reason. I acted like a king prick, and I want to make it up to you.” I smiled, and decided that another time to fight my case would better than now. He was happy and celebratory, and the group was finally having a good time, so I wasn’t going to be the one to trample on everyone’s happiness. I told myself that I would argue my case when we are alone and he had time to sober up, and come down from his jubilant high.

  Jason cashed out and did all of the necessary paperwork to take his winnings. He was feeling so good that he took us all to the Craftsteak restaurant and orders an almost $3,000 bottle of Moët et Chandon, Brut, Dom Pérignon OEnothèque, 1966, Épernay. I could barely pronounce any of what he had ordered, but I knew it sounded overly expensive. The waiter brought out glasses and the bottles of champagne and poured us all a round. Mila and Chelsea looked like they’d just hit the lottery. I felt sick that he was throwing money to the wind all because of some lucky bet. Just like before, I stuffed my reservations to the back of my mind, and allowed myself to partake in the festivities of Jason’s winnings.

  We drank, talked, laughed, and drank some more. Jason was overly affectionate -- to the point of slurring his words while trying to turn me on. He paid the bill and Ryan ran across the catwalk to get the car. In the car, Jason drummed on the roof, sang obnoxiously loud, and tickled Mila’s neck from behind her seat. That little act completely annoyed me, but he was so happy, I just didn’t say anything.

  Walking back into our hotel, Jason pompously strolled to the check-in desk as everyone else walked to the elevators. We all stopped, and he signaled for me to come with him and sent everyone else on their way. He asked and paid for the Executive Suite and for our bags to be transferred from our old rooms to the suite. He gathered me up in his arms, and I squealed as he steadied himself. We stumbled to the elevator and once inside, he stood me up and kissed me long, deep, and with astronomical amounts of passion. “I have a surprise for you tomorrow,” he said, trying to catch his breath.

  “What is it?” I asked, knowing full well that he wouldn’t tell me.

  He laughed, and then took my chin in his hands, “baby, if I told you, it wouldn’t be a surprise, now would it?”

  We zoomed up to the suite level floor, and stepped out to grand double doors. Jason opened the door and I walked into a spacious room that mirrored the living arrangements that Jason had back in La Jolla. I lay down on the bed, and Jason threw himself onto me. He started lightly kissing me, periodically pulling back and telling me how happy he was.

  A knock on the door disrupted his groveling, and in a swift move, he surprisingly made his way to the door, without stumbling, and retrieved our bags. He came back to the bed and I lay up on my elbow to face him. I figured now was as good a time as any to get my frustrations with him off of my chest. “I’m super happy for you, but I’m not happy with you.” His eyes shot open.

  “Are you breaking up with me?” He asked, in a low muffled voice.

  “No. But, I am a little hurt that you would blame me for that idiot grabbing me, and you reacting like a long overdue volcano.”

  He exhaled the breath he was holding, then tried to fix my hurt and concern.

  “I’m sorry… I know I was wrong, but in that moment, all I felt was rage. That fuckin’ guy had his paws all over you and I couldn’t handle it.”

  “I know, but it wasn’t as if I was inviting it. I was trying to kick him away. I certainly don’t think my skirt led him on either. I could have been in a moo moo and he would have done the same thing.”

  He smirked, “He commented on your ass. I might be drunk, but I’m not dead. I knew what the shit stain was saying about you.” He walked closer to me, “I’m possessive, I think you’ve figured that out by now, and when he touched what was mine, it sent a chill down my spine that made me want to inflict serious pain on him.” He looked deep into my eyes, “I’m not good at sharing, I won’t share, and no fuckin’ guy -- I don’t care how drunk he is, is going to knock me down on my right to not share.”

  I didn’t even know how to respond so I just snuggled into him. He had never spilled his heart out like that, and even though it was profanity laced, it was endearing in only a way that Jason could spew it in. We lay together for a few moments in silence, with him kissing my hair before I asked, “what about your dad? What do you think is going to happen there?”

  “I don’t know. I’ll probably be labeled the black sheep again, and get my ass chewed for a while, before being told how much of a disappointment I am, and how Jacob would never do such a thing.” He sighed deeply. “I’ll deal with that tomorrow. Right now, I just want you in my arms, breathing my air and relishing our win.”

  His revelations about his dad were new and surprising, but I didn’t ask any further questions. I allowed myself to ponder exactly what he meant by it, but as I turned to adjust my body, I felt his slow, steady breath, and realized that he had fallen asleep with his arms and legs draped across my body.

  Jason was the black sheep of his family? His statement spoke volumes as to why he had such hatred for his brother; this was sibling rivalry to the extreme, and it was being fueled by Mr. Bradley himself.

  Chapter 15

  I woke up the next morning, bright and early and made my way down to the team departure meeting. Chelsea and I weren’t going home with the team but we had to be there to be accounted for. She stumbled in looking like a freight train had just run her over, a sight I wasn’t used to seeing. I gave her a questionable grin, and she smiled while shaking me off. Our coach stressed to us to be safe on our travels home and that he would see us when we arrived back to campus to turn in our gear. We hugged everyone and walked them down to the lobby.

  Our parents gathered and as we said our goodbyes, I couldn’t help but feel such admiration for my dad. I was taken back to the day before, when I felt my life had ended on that field, and how he held me and made me feel whole again.

  I couldn’t help but think about Jason and the words he spoke in his drunken stupor last night. Jason hadn’t had the love and nurturing that a child deserved, so his rough around the edges personality wasn’t completely his fault. Unknowingly, the information he gave me last night made thankful for my own father. My dad had never made me feel less than, and I suddenly ached for Jason to feel that same love.

  Chelsea and I made our way back into the hotel after our parents drove off. I stopped her in the lobby café to fill her in on our night.

  “So, Jason filled me in on something last night.”

  “What? That he is a compulsive gambler who got lucky?” She laughed, but stopped after seeing my reaction.

  “No, but yeah, that was stupid. He drunkenly filled me in on a little more about him and Jacob.”

  “That’s why I love drunken men, the inhibitions fly out the window. What did he say?”

  ‘Well, I brought up the video, and he said he would deal with the blow back later. He said his dad would remind him how he’s the black sheep and how Jacob would never do anything like that.”

  “Okay… so sibling rivalry, nothing new. Still doesn’t explain why he has an intensely insane amount of hatred for his brother.�
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  “No it doesn’t, but it’s another piece of the puzzle. I know he’s a jealous person, but that isn’t just reserved for me.”

  “Well, ask him again when you get back upstairs.”

  “I have to gauge his mood before jumping into that one.” Chelsea took out her phone and I saw her eyes light up. She turned it around to show me that Jason’s video had being posted on her Facebook newsfeed and I was tagged in it. I fished my phone out of my back pocket to find the same thing. This video really had viral, in a relatively short amount of time. I ventured to Jason’s page and saw that the video has been posted to his page as well, by none other than Miss. Stacey. Her caption above the video read:

  Oh no Jace… Jim won’t be pleased with this one! <3!!

  The sight of her using intimate pet names, and referring to, who I presumed to be his dad, sent my mind into a tailspin. I knew they had known each other for a while but her lingering presence still irked my nerves. She was like that annoying cat that he fed and now couldn’t get to go away. I turned my phone around to Chelsea who puckered her lips in an obvious show of disapproval. I took my phone and we stood to head back up to our rooms in silence. The unspoken words spoke volumes.