Billionaire Vacation

by Nella Tyler

  In fact, the more I thought about the things Ben had bought, the more I began to feel a little bit uneasy with my comfort. I climbed out of bed and wandered through the apartment again, looking at the things that had been replaced. It wasn't like I had an emotional attachment to any of the things that I had found for my place, but what if I had? What if I had an emotional attachment to my old couch, lumpy though it was? What if the old, round, scratched and dinged coffee table had sentimental value to me? Ben wouldn't have known that. For all he knew, my stuff was just junk: garage sale, thrift shop junk. But what if one of my pieces had been a family heirloom, something that I had brought from my old life into my new one?

  That thought annoyed me because it displayed a lack of consideration. The fact that he hadn't asked, that he had just done it, made me feel uneasy. Did he think he could just walk into my life and start controlling me? Replacing things just because they weren't up to his standards?

  There was no doubt that everything that he had purchased was beautiful. The couch smelled new and the cushions felt plump and comfortable. The narrow, oblong coffee table with glass top was lovely, no doubt about it, the dark oak polished to a fine sheen. In the kitchen, the new stainless steel refrigerator was certainly better than the dented and rattling contraption that had been in there before.

  Had the landlord approved the new appliances? How had Ben accomplished so much in such a short time? Then again, I realized the bald truth. Money could buy just about anything these days. Still, I struggled with my emotions over it all. On the kitchen table – new and polished oak like the coffee table – stood five or six boxes of various sizes, wrapped in white paper with pretty red and pink bows. Some of the boxes were small, some a little larger. In one, I had found a gorgeous, plush bathrobe with my initials embroidered on the shoulder.

  In one of the smaller boxes, I found an expensive piece of jewelry: a bracelet with some type of red stones set into a heavy, pewter or silver etched setting. Tucked beneath the ribbon of one of the gifts was a card. I opened it and read: To my Queen of Hearts. This is just a sample of the life you can live with me as your King.

  For a second, I smiled, but then my sense of frustration and uncertainty took over. Ben or any other man could buy my favor. It was just as plain and simple as that. The card had no signature, but I had no doubt that all of this had come from Ben. Not a single doubt. I didn't know whether I should be flattered, insulted, or just plain and simply freaked out. The truth of the matter was that he might end up being quite a creep if he didn’t get his own way. After all, my husband’s attitudes toward me had certainly changed after I filed for divorce. He had even stalked me for a while, begging me repeatedly to stop the divorce proceedings, promising to change.

  I had stood my ground. The longer I did that, the angrier my ex had gotten. Pretty soon, I was receiving angry, sometimes nasty messages on my answering machine. A few of those messages had even hinted of violence. I had to change my cell phone number, delete my e-mail account and create a new one. I had deleted my Facebook account, too. I didn't need this drama! I thought of what Ben had said, and despite his fact that he said he didn't want anything permanent, no strings attached, he seemed to be a little too obsessed with me. What I was going to do about it was the big question.

  *

  I spent most of the day just putting around, trying to decide what to do with all the new stuff in my apartment. I went down to the maintenance manager's office, asked if he had anything to do with all the new stuff in my apartment. He admitted that he had let Ben in after being told it was a surprise for me.

  "You didn't even think to call me about it, Jake?" I asked, concerned that he had been so willing to open my door to a literal stranger.

  "He told me you guys were going out and that the gifts and the appliances, everything was a surprise." He frowned. "It was, wasn't it?" He began to fidget nervously, sensing that things were not quite as Ben had implied. "On my God, tell me that I didn't let a stalker into your apartment."

  Jake knew that I dealt Blackjack at a nearby casino. In this town, it paid to be careful. I felt bad that he felt so bad, but I shook my head. "I know you meant well, Jake, and I'll take care of it. But I want you to do me a favor."

  He nodded, anxious to regain my favor.

  “Anything. Please don’t say anything to the landlord-”

  “You mean, Ben got the stove and fridge installed without letting the landlord know about it?” I asked in disbelief. I could have my lease terminated for doing such a thing.

  Jake gestured to the storage room behind him. “I told him we could store the old appliances back there until you moved out, and then I would have them re-installed…without alerting the landlord.”

  I sighed. Oh my God… I knew that what was done was done, and I didn’t want to make a federal case out of it, but I had one demand. "I want you to change the locks on my door."

  He nodded, more than agreeable now to do anything I asked. He knew as well as I did that all I had to do was report him to the apartment owner and he could very well lose his job. I knew he was supporting a wife and an autistic child, and I certainly didn't want him to lose his job over this, but I also had to make it clear to him that his actions had been unacceptable.

  "And the next time anyone comes bearing gifts or wants to get into my apartment, I want you to call me first. Is that understood?"

  Again he nodded and apologized. I sensed he was sincere, and I left it at that. As I returned to my apartment, I began to determine the best way to deal with Ben. What were his intentions? What would he do if I either accepted or refused his gifts? If I accepted the gifts, would it take it to mean I was giving him a green light to do anything he wanted? If I refused, would he turn nasty and mean like my ex-husband?

  As I returned to my apartment, I groaned. I didn't need this! I didn't want to deal with these emotions. I just wanted to be left alone! But did I, really? Sure, someday I wanted to think I’d be ready to find another guy, perhaps even get married again, but my emotions, my attitude, and my wariness of men was still too strong for me to overcome.

  When I got back to my apartment, I checked my phone on the coffee table. I saw that I had a text message from Ben. I wasn't quite sure what I wanted to say to him, so I ignored it. It might be a little rude of me to do so, to not at the very least mention the new things in my apartment, but I felt I needed to very carefully construe my response first. Part of me wanted him to take everything out of my apartment and put things back the way they had been. At the other end of the spectrum, the apartment certainly looked better and the appliances were nice, as were the gifts. I kept going around and around, uncertain. One minute, I felt one way, the next, another.

  I gradually grew so frustrated that I felt near tears. I wavered between being angry with him for putting me through this emotional turmoil and gratitude that someone with such charisma apparently liked me- Wait a minute. That didn't sound right. Was I so desperate for the attentions of a man that I felt gratitude that he expressed his affection for me in such a way? No way. This was not what I wanted to feel. I couldn’t be bought with pretty trinkets or shiny appliances, or by sweet talk; not when I didn’t know much about the guy dishing it out.

  Honestly, I still knew very little about Ben, his motives, or where he had gotten all his money. Since he was at the casino every night and stayed until the wee hours of the morning, it didn’t appear to me as if he had a job. For all I knew, he could be involved in illegal activities. I sat down on the couch, frowning. Could he be a drug dealer? Was he involved in something more white collar, like insider trading? Where had he gotten all his money? How could someone be so rich they could just blatantly go out gambling every night? Was he addicted to gambling? If he was, he certainly knew how to play. The more I thought about it, the more I convinced myself that he must be cheating at cards. It was the only way he could win so often.

  Thinking back over the previous month, when he had made an appearance nearly every night,
I quickly did some math in my head and realized that he must've pulled at least a hundred grand out of the casino. That was a lot of money by any standards, maybe not for many of the casinos in Atlantic City or Vegas, but enough to raise perhaps more than a few eyebrows. As a result, I figured that the management, the pit bosses, and the cameras scattered throughout the casino were more than likely to be following his movements by now. No doubt about it, they were tracking his winnings, along with his losses.

  Those losses could be disguised to take some of the suspicion away from him. Still, even more concerning, personally, was the fact that those cameras, as well as the pit bosses, had probably already noticed Ben always came to my table. Would they think we had some kind of a connection? Would they begin to be suspicious of me? If they weren’t already…my heart skipped a beat. No one had said anything yet, but if management even thought I was in on something, or failed to report any suspicions, I could be called into the office and spoken to – perhaps even worse. I couldn't lose this job. In fact, if I was accused of aiding and abetting anyone accused of cheating, my chances of finding another job at a casino Atlantic City went down the drain.

  The more I began to think about it, the more frightened I became. I was working myself into quite a state of anxiety and all because of the nice things surrounding me. I finally groaned in frustration. Tonight, when I saw Ben, I would have to talk to him, hopefully outside of the casino. The problem was that even the parking lots had cameras. I was becoming paranoid. Was I being watched? Did any of the management staff, the security personnel, or the pit bosses have suspicions? The plain fact was that I just didn't know. The more I didn't know, the more concerned I became.

  *

  By the time I clocked in to work that evening, I had worked myself into quite a dither. I knew I had to settle my emotions, focus on my job. Damn Ben! While one part of me was certainly flattered that a handsome, rich guy like Ben was, or seemed to be attracted to me, at the other end of the spectrum, I wasn't sure that I welcomed his attentions. As of this moment, his attentions were causing more emotional distress than I needed.

  I pulled myself together and walked out into the main room, the normal sounds of the casino barraging my ears. I put myself into “the mode,” determined to ignore everything and everyone around me. I would focus on my job. I walked to my table, switched out with the other dealer, and then got to work. For the first few hours of my shift, I began to grow more comfortable. Focusing on the deal and on the players sitting in front of me took my mind off Ben and my concerns and myriad of questions.

  Then, during the fourth hour of my shift, in walked Ben. He sat down at my table, smiling up at me. I did my best to ignore him, other than to give him a polite nod. I didn't want to give the pit bosses, or the cameras overhead, any indication that I was happy to see him or that we were too friendly. He seemed to pick up on my attitude and calmly played as if we were complete strangers.

  Still, it made me nervous, him sitting there in front of me. I hadn't even told Savannah about what happened, about his odd generosity, but I knew that eventually I would cave. After all, I needed someone to talk to about this. I knew Savannah would be extremely excited. She would encourage me to accept everything Ben had given me and make it clear that nothing would be given in return. In that way, Savannah and I were very different. She was more than willing to accept anything a man gave her. To be honest, she took advantage as much as she could. I didn’t really blame her. She had grown up dirt poor and that was putting it mildly. Besides, Atlantic City was filled with rich, handsome guys willing to pay to have a beautiful woman on their arm at their beck and call.

  I wasn't like that. Another reason why I hadn't immediately called her and told her about what happened was because I didn't want to get either one of us into trouble. Savannah, despite her friendship, could sometimes be a little exuberant and often, due to that very exuberance, she had trouble keeping secrets. The last thing I needed was gossip floating through the casino about Ben's attraction to me and what he had done.

  Last but not least, I had to face the issue of potentially walking into a problem I couldn't fix. Mainly, Ben. There was part of me that felt hesitant to accept his attentions. It wasn't exactly that I was afraid of him or scared of what he might do, but of his capabilities. It wasn't that I was paranoid, per se, but I wasn’t naïve. This was Atlantic City. It could be rough for many people, myself included. I lived alone. I realized that I was vulnerable to a variety of people, if they chose to bother me. Would Ben leave me alone if I asked him to? I thought I had established those boundaries with him, but apparently, I hadn't done a good enough job at it.

  The fact that he had gotten into my apartment without my knowledge gave me a sense of unease. While I didn't think Ben had meant to do anything creepy or unacceptable, it was that very fact that had me questioning his behavior. Did he think he could do anything he wanted because he wanted to do it? After all, he had money. In the last couple of years working at the casino, I knew that men with money often felt a certain sense of entitlement. Money protected them from many things. Payoffs, bribes, and an envelope full of money could do away with a lot of inappropriate activities and behaviors.

  Ben had never threatened me, or even intimated that he could be threatening or demanding, but at the same time, his pursuit of me, at least at the moment, was one-sided. I had told him plainly that I was not interested in developing a relationship, but that hadn't seemed to slow him down at all. I wanted to talk to someone, but who could I talk to? Savannah? I knew what she would say. Full steam ahead!

  My ego and my sense of pride had been bruised and battered by the way my first husband had treated me. What did Ben’s actions mean? What was he trying to say – or imply? Could I honestly believe that a man could spend so much money on gifts and wooing or courting or whatever they called it these days and not expect anything in return? I shook my head, not believing it for a minute.

  I had no idea what Ben’s intentions were as far as I was concerned, or if he had any at all, but I knew that very soon, I would need to make it clear that he couldn't buy my affection. Yes, he was handsome and charming, but I still didn't know that much about him. Did he want me to become his mistress? To have a brief fling with me and then call it a day? I wasn't interested in that. Yes, the sex had been great, and it'd been nice at the time, but I also realized I could live without it. In fact, I felt that the sex was not worth it, especially in comparison to the emotional drama it had elicited in my life.

  During a break in the action, one of the couples and two of the men sitting together at the table with Ben stood in briefly excused themselves for a bathroom break. Ben remained behind. Playing with his chips, he spoke to me, although he kept his head down.

  "Are you mad at me?" he asked.

  "I'm not sure," I said. I was aware that the cameras might pick up anything I said, and the security guards up there watching were experts at reading lips. I wanted no hint of impropriety. I might have already gotten their attention. I glanced down at the table, trying to turn my head slightly away from the camera overhead without seeming obtrusive about it.

  "The cameras are watching, Ben, and I don't want to get caught fraternizing with you anymore. But we do need to talk about this."

  He nodded, re-stacking his chips, still keeping his head turned down and slightly looking off to the side, as if watching the activities of the other gamblers around him. He even managed to speak while covering his mouth as if he was coughing.

  "What time do you get off, Maggie?"

  "About two o'clock," I replied.

  "We can talk about this," he said.

  I said nothing. The other gamblers returned to the table and play began again. Ben won a couple of hands, lost a few, and then won a couple more. Hour by hour, my shift continued. I tried to focus on the game, ignore Ben, and still be polite to the players, acting as if nothing in the world was the matter. Toward the end of my shift I began to grow nervous again. He was a handful. I
wasn't ready for this! I wished that he would just get out of my life and stay there, while another part of me wished something different altogether. I felt frustrated. I had never been so wishy-washy in my entire life!

  I was growing tired of this consistent back and forth battle going on in my head. I would have to make up my mind, sooner rather than later. By the end of my shift, Ben had won more hands than not, but not very much. If he was cheating, he was doing a good job hiding it. It would be too obvious if he’d won thousands of dollars every night, but his wins and loses varied, so much so that I began to doubt my own suspicions.

  He had said no strings, and I had believed him. The problem was, when it came right down to it, I wasn't at all sure that I could trust him. And that was the crux of the problem, wasn't it? Did he really like me, or did he just find me an easy mark to amuse himself with for a while? The amount of money he’d spent on the gifts and the new appliances were probably no more than a drop in the bucket for him, but still. No one spent that much money on a woman without expecting something in return. No one.

  Maybe I was merely overreacting to or misconstruing his intentions. Maybe he did favors like this for all the girls he dated. How was I to know? After all, if he could get into my apartment to do something nice, he could also get into my apartment to do something bad. I didn't want to think that way, but I had to be realistic.

  I changed out with the next dealer and wearily walked to the break room to clock out. I was tired. I wanted to go home and go to bed, but first I had to take care of this issue with Ben. I wasn't quite sure what I was going to tell him. I wasn't angry as much as concerned. Was he just playing around with me? Seeing how far and how much he could get away with? I had already succumbed to his charms, but that didn't mean I wanted it to continue. I began to think of the many different ways or things I could do to get him to leave me alone, but was that what I really wanted? That was the big question, wasn't it?