by Tiana Laveen
Who the hell is that?
Walking slowly past were three women, all of them attractive, but the one in the middle caught his eye and wouldn’t let go…
Two Black chicks and a Latina. Hmm, they’re not workers here. They’re guests, patrons… If I were to guess, it’s some sort of girls’ night out… One looks clearly inebriated, but is still functioning. Another one looks bored… and the one in the middle is enjoying herself. I bet she’s usually uptight. Look how fucking perfect her hair is… She needs me to come and mess it up. Pull on it while I fuck her from behind…
The one he had his eye on, a Black woman with a medium brown, smooth complexion that stood about five-foot-eight, was wearing a sleeveless white turtleneck and tight black pants that hugged her ample hips in just the right way. Her long black curly hair bounced with each step she took. Though he couldn’t hear her due to the glass separating them, he could see her laughing, having a damn good time. From her body movements and gestures, the other two ladies were her friends, people she was quite familiar with. They leaned against one another, paused, laughed, and walked a few steps before stopping once again to point and laugh, reacting to their surroundings. Without a moment’s hesitation, Savage walked briskly towards the exit.
“Hey! Hold on. Where are you going, honey?” Blondie hollered.
“If it goes my way, to my hotel room with your replacement…”
Zaire stopped in her tracks and leaned against Allison, trying to catch her breath. She could barely breathe. Her friends served as two bookends, she being the shortest of the triple threat, as she tried in vain to reel herself in, to stop the childishness fueled by alcohol and a deep need for a damn good time. Her face was flushed with heat from laughing so hard at Kim’s antics. The woman had a knack for spotting the strangest people in the throes of doing the oddest of things.
“And look at that guy! How can anyone come out of the damn house like that?! His hair looks like a dead cat… rigor mortis has set in, too. Mr. Stiffy used his ninth life, then somehow managed to climb about that fool’s head.”
“You’re killing me! Don’t point to anyone else, you hear me?” They all burst out laughing again, and the joy amongst them felt amazing.
Zaire’s head and stomach hurt from the constant hilarity hurled her way, but she couldn’t control herself. They’d arrived right in the nick of time to check in, put down their luggage in their respective rooms, got a couple of cute drinks in the Bellagio Hotel, and made their preliminary rounds in the casino, exploding into fits of garish giggles from all the people watching. Las Vegas, Nevada certainly had some livewires.
It was a playground for the twenty-one and older crowd—a place to become entangled in a blitz of blinding color, magical pizzazz, fantasy, and dark hedonism with a splash of faux class and sophistication. As they began to move again, Zaire screamed, this time in fright, nearly startled to death.
To the left of her, a glass door swung open so quickly, it was a miracle the damn thing didn’t break into pieces. Standing in the frame was a tall man, at least six foot five, with such intensity in his bright, piercing hazel eyes. She clutched her purse hoping it offered a bit of comfort, though she felt foolish doing so. His shoulders were broad, as if they needed their own damn zip code and his facial structure was so chiseled it seemed he was constructed out of granite. He sported short cropped black hair in a Caesar cut, stubble on his face, succulent lips, and tanned skin.
Is he Hispanic? On second glance, I don’t think so…
He wore black slacks and a loose fitting white shirt that hung open to the middle of his chest, showing a display of chest hair and a variety of tattoos.
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” A crooked smile creased the face of the beautiful beast that now stood before them. “I was in a hurry. Looks like I scared you ladies.”
Kim snorted. Placing her hand across her mouth, she said, “FAF alert!” That stood for ‘fine as fuck.’
Zaire turned away, swallowing a smirk as Allison burst out laughing once again. The man chuckled, his voice low, hoarse and sexy, as if he were in on their inside joke, though she highly doubted it. Zaire swallowed… He flexed his long legs and clasped his hands as if he’d been expecting them.
“You, in the middle.” He waved his long finger in her direction. “You’re fucking stunning, ya know that? What’s your name, baby?” Zaire looked at Allison, who only offered a shrug. She looked at Kim then, who was now giggling so much, she’d become a mere nuisance.
“My name is Zaire. Thank you for the compliment.” The man slicked a cigar and lighter out of his pocket and quickly lit it.
“You’re welcome. I mean that though.” He lifted his chin high as he blew out thick ringlets of smoke. “You’ve got that sexy, classy shit goin’ on for yourself… I like that.”
Kim and Allison were really rolling now.
“I see you’re in the high rollers room.” Zaire smiled as she put on her professional voice and took a peek at the small space with rich furnishings… a space no one could enter unless they were prepared to spend, and spend big.
“Yeah.”
“Are you a professional gambler?”
“No, this is just for fun… a hobby. Did you wanna come inside? I can bring you in, and your friends, too.” He hitched his thumb in the direction of the door behind him.
“No, thank you. I was just merely making an observation. Well, let me move out of your path.” She skirted to the side, gripping Allison’s elbow like a lifeline. “Me and my friends will be on our way. It was nice meeting you.”
“First of all, you’re not in my way. I came out here especially for you.” She swallowed. “Secondly, I was taking a break so I’ve got a little time. Zaire, huh?” He ran the tip of his tongue along his lower lip, like some animal who’d caught a fresh kill. “Like the place in Central Africa, now known as The Democratic Republic of the Congo.”
“Yes. That would be it.”
Well, he definitely gets points for that. Most people think it’s just some made-up name to sound cool.
“That’s an unusual name for someone. I like it though. You look more like a, hmmm, I don’t know.” He shrugged. “A Lisa, Evelyn, Angela, Monique… maybe a Michelle…”
“You were pretty close! Her name is really—”
“Don’t you dare!” Zaire hissed at Kim who was now looking at her like some puppy who’d gotten yelled at for soiling the new rug. “It’s actually my middle name, but that’s what I go by.”
“She’s a celebrity.” Kim offered. “Ouch!” Zaire elbowed the lady. When she looked back to her right, Allison had floated away like some damn cloud.
“Allison… Allison!” Zaire hollered, but the woman kept on walking until she’d disappeared from view.
I can’t believe this! Oh… so this is how these two are going to do me tonight, huh?! I knew I should’ve told Kim to wait to smoke that weed, with her silly ass, and now Allison has nothing but sex on the brain!
“My name is Savage,” the man offered, snatching her out of her thoughts.
“Ohhhh, fuck!” Kim chortled, shaking her head as she leaned against the glass of the high stakes room. “Savage?! Your name is Savage? This night can’t get any better.” Just then, a bartender from the private room walked by to enter the enclosure. Savage grabbed two of the drinks from the tray and offered one to Zaire and one to Kim. Kim happily took hers and indulged in a big gulp without a second to lose. The damn thing could have been vanishing potion; the woman apparently didn’t care.
“No, thank you.” Zaire refused hers. The man now known as Savage nodded and took a sip from the glass filled with vibrant green liquor, then another. “Savage? I take it that is some sort of nickname, right?” Zaire stood straight, hoping to wrap this little convo up and be on her merry way. She saw no reason to be rude, but the man gave off a vibe that perplexed her. Something about him screamed trouble. The kind of trouble that once someone got in, they could never get out.
“Nope. It’s
my last name but like you, it’s what I use.” She nodded in understanding. “So, Zaire, since that’s what you prefer to be called, can I interest you in some dick?” He blew more smoke out from between his lips, his expression serious.
Green liquor spewed out of Kim’s mouth like a damn fire hose, or perhaps more like the possessed child from the Exorcist movie. The alcohol splattered all along her arms and part of her face, including the dangerous, ballsy, and apparently mentally challenged creature before them. Zaire fought the urge to laugh at the specks of liquid landing all along his jaw. His shirt now had a green polka dot pattern.
Can I interest you in a dry cleaner? Nasty bastard. That’s what you get.
“Oh, God! I am so, so sorry Mr. Savage!” Kim offered as she removed a ratty old napkin from her purse and began to pat his chest and face, making it all the worse. Instead of pitching a fit, the man burst out laughing.
“It’s okay, baby.” He gently took the napkin from Kim’s grasp, dabbed his face a bit more, then slid it into his pants pocket just as cool as he pleased. Rocking back on his heels, he threw Zaire a hedonistic stare, the kind double dipped in illegal kinks and forbidden seduction. “Well, what do you say? Are you ready to head off?”
He started right back up from where he’d stopped! One track mind…
“Mr. Savage, the answer is definitely no. Now I am certain that you—”
“What? Are you married? You don’t come off as married…”
“I’m not certain what coming off as married exactly is,” she rolled her eyes, “but I was going to say, it is apparent that you are well off, since you are playing in the private club room and all, but—”
“My money isn’t the topic of discussion. It has nothing to do with this.” He shrugged, as if annoyed. “And married women tend to act a certain way. I know what to look for, regardless of whether they have a ring on their finger or not.”
“Well, I certainly wish everyone had that discernment. Regardless, that’s no way to speak to a lady. Now, that may work with many, but not with me. I’m not like most women but even if I were, that’s still no way to behave towards me.” She crossed her arms over her chest.
“I’m sorry if my honesty upset you.” She grimaced at his choice of words. “I just see no reason to be pretentious or fake about it.” He shrugged. “It doesn’t have shit to do with me not seeing you as a lady, as someone to respect. A lot of women have this crazy idea that if we respect you, we won’t try to fuck you right away. That’s just not true.” He chuckled. “I just I call it like I see it.”
“You approached me as if I were some prostitute, which I’m not, and for the record,” she stated calmly, “I’m not upset. To be upset would mean I would have had expectations from you and you’d somehow let me down. I don’t appreciate what you said. It’s just not how I roll. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I—”
“Wait, hold up.” He took a hard toke from his cigar then quickly extinguished it by tossing it in a tall ember receptacle. “I wouldn’t ask a prostitute if she wanted some dick, Zaire. A prostitute fucks all day for a living. Now that conversation would have a reason for money to be brought up. I made a proposal, asked a simple question. A ‘yes’ or ‘no’ would’ve sufficed.”
“Oh, so you think I’ll screw for free?” She chuckled and shook her head, hating that she was enjoying toying with the bastard. What a piece of work!
“Are you now saying that you charge?” She swallowed her response for it was filled with four letter words… all of them as colorful as the strip. “I didn’t care either way, but I’m not a john. I just knew that I wanted you.” His eyes narrowed on her. “I fuck working girls, blue collar girls, white collar girls, and the girl next door. Sex is sex, baby.” He shrugged. “There’s no shame in paying for pussy. A guy’s gotta do what a guy’s gotta do, though I don’t do that. Whether it was a whore or a virgin, I never had to shell out a dime for some snatch—my mere company was enough. In fact, women approach me far more than I do them nowadays. I rarely get the chance.”
“Awww, you poor thing! Guess I am one of the lucky few!” She placed her hand over her heart, sending Kim into a tizzy of laughter.
“Yeah, you are fortunate, actually. I’m an amazing fucking person… a rare fucking breed. You’re not in a situation where you have to find out why. Lucky you…” The man’s eyes grew dark. A hidden rage seemed to brew within him, cloaked by his crooked smile, swag and confidence. “Anyway, no hard feelings. Can’t fault me for trying. You have a good night.”
He winked at her, waved lazily, and went back inside the glass enclosure as if not a damn thing had happened. It all transpired so quickly, the way he dismounted his imaginary horse and walked off, she didn’t know what had quite hit her. Zaire stood there watching as he pulled out a white seat at one of the few blackjack tables in the fancy set up. Within seconds, a blonde drew close to him, practically landing on top of him like a fly on shit. The woman was donning a thick fur coat, her face nothing but a smile. A second woman came over then; she looked Asian. She was soon hanging on him like a second skin, too. A third woman approached after that, scantily clad, her dark eyes gleaming like some snake out for the kill.
“Girl, he was an entire hot mess.” Kim chortled as they began to walk away. “Did you smell him though?” The woman’s lips twisted.
“Smell him?” They continued their jaunt in search of Allison. “What do you mean?”
“He smelled really good. You know I have a thing for cologne. If I were a betting woman… Well, I am in Vegas so I guess I am a betting woman tonight,” she cackled at her own joke, “I’d say he was wearing Stefano Ricci Royal Eagle.”
“Ahhh, expensive, huh?”
“Definitely. Oh, there’s Allison!” Kim pointed up ahead. “Allison! All-lis-sooon!”
The woman’s face was practically glued to a tall, handsome guy sporting a mint green tie and navy blue blazer. Their friend glanced over at them, disinterested. Giving them a curt wave, she turned right back around, continuing her conversation with Mr. Preppy.
“Well, that was a total blow off.”
They both chuckled.
“She did say she had a bucket list to fulfill this weekend while here. One, get drunk. Two, get high. Three, eat as if she didn’t care about the calories and carbs. Four go to at least one show, and five, ride some decadent dick. Looks like number five on the list is being worked out as we speak.” They both watched the woman work the guy over for a while.
“As she explained on the drive here, her soon-to-be ex was a real piece of work, Zaire. I knew he was giving her a hard time but had no idea it had gotten that bad! How could she stand being with him for so long?!”
“I tried to—”
“We know, we know! You tried to tell her, Mama Goose. Hey, Zaire, look! “O” by Cirque du Soleil is being performed here! Let’s see if we can get tickets.” Just then, out of the corner of her eye, she spotted Mr. F-A-F walking past with an entourage of women escorting him—all of them beautiful, and most definitely trashy to the tenth degree. He didn’t pay her any mind as he navigated his way through the crowd. The man took heavy, leisurely steps, a twisted smirk on his face. Donning a leather jacket over his shirt, he looked good enough to eat. His eyes practically glowed like a viper under the glowing lights. Just when she thought the show was over, he casually looked over his shoulder, blew her a kiss, and kept moving…
What an arrogant son of a bitch. I swear, some guys get a little money and think they can buy anything. I’m not on the menu. He’s quite attractive, too, so that makes the situation so much worse. Definitely a potential narcissist. He seemed completely oblivious as to why I’d be offended by being spoken to that way. He didn’t know who he was dealing with. I’m not one of these silly hoes. My next book should be titled, ‘Want Some Dick? And other low-lying fruit scavenger lines to avoid.’
“So, do you want to see it or not?” Kim’s ultra-feminine, slightly high-pitched voice shook her out of her deliberations.
“Uh, yeah…” Her friend’s lips curled in a satisfied grin as she dug inside her purse, scooting over a plastic baggie with a few pre-rolled joints. Kim grabbed her phone and swiped the screen, likely looking up the show information, or perhaps to view her Instagram feed. Who the hell knew? Minutes later, they were headed back up to their hotel rooms, laughing, easygoing, free.
“Did Allison text you back?”
“Actually, she’s texting me right now.” Kim paused in front of her door and glanced at her phone.
“Okay, let’s freshen up and change clothes, and meet downstairs in twenty minutes.”
“That sounds good. Allison said she’d be there too…”
“Oh, good! Or is it?” Zaire suddenly had second thoughts about Allison joining them. Perhaps something had gone askew.
“Oh, my goodness, check this out, Zaire.” Kim cradled her phone in her palm as she looked down at it. “She texted back again… Said ol’ boy is married but tried to play it off.” They both sucked their teeth at the same damn time. “She checked him out on Facebook on the low while he was trying to sweet talk her. These motherfuckers are so stupid. Don’t they know we can find out that sort of thing in five seconds nowadays?” Kim rolled her eyes, clearly disgusted as she jammed her phone back into her purse, removed her hotel room door key, swiped the slot and when the light turned green, she pushed the handle, taking a step inside. “She’ll meet us downstairs. She’s on her way back up.”
“Okay, see you in a minute.” The woman nodded and the door slammed behind her. Zaire turned around and walked up the hall, the journey taking far too long. She daydreamed, thought about work, feeling a bit like a fish out of water. It was difficult to just leave all her duties behind, to act silly and unwind. Allison and Kim helped her take a load off though. Those two had a knack for allowing her to decompress and simply be herself. There was no denying it, sometimes her life was like a juggling act, plain stressful. She’d get the occasional looney toon; one guy had even called her relentlessly from various numbers on her 1-800 number for months on end. Sometimes it was just the nature of the job. She’d put so much time and energy into her podcast and books, it wasn’t uncommon for her to get only a few hours of sleep.