Call Me Sugar

by Sage Nyx

Now that my mind is clear, my pace picks up. I practically jog down the sidewalk in my hurry to leave Vegas and this whole mess behind. I don’t make it one full block before my cell phone buzzes in my pocket. I pull it out and check the screen.

  There’s a text from a number I don’t recognize.

  All it says is:

  “Leaving so soon? The casino is in the other direction, Miss Miller.”

  They’re watching me even now. Eva must have eyes and ears everywhere.

  I slowly turn back around.

  So much for free choice.

  Jade

  When I reach the casino, I discover someone is occupying my slot machine.

  Now I must waste precious time waiting for it to open again without appearing as if I’m lurking. If there’s one sure way to get on the security’s radar, it’s lurking without playing for a suspicious length of time. They’re always watching out for card counting teams.

  I hope the baldheaded heavy-set man sitting in my spot hasn’t played for long. If so, he’ll screw up my calculations. He’s sweating profusely and his sour expression tells me he’s not having much luck.

  And he wouldn’t be, because it’s not ready to pay off yet.

  Good for me, bad for him.

  In between spins of the slot machines, he pulls out a dingy white handkerchief to wipe his damp forehead. At his age, he should know the house always wins.

  I walk over to the big bar in the center of the casino. Settling down on a stool, I turn to watch the man without appearing obvious.

  “What can I get you?” the bartender asks while sliding a cocktail napkin down on the bar in front of me. “How about a frosty daiquiri?”

  I make a face. “It’s too early. It’s not even noon yet.” I glance around at the other customers at the bar who don’t have an issue with drinking this time of day. “Too early for me, anyway,” I add.

  “How about a Red Bull and vodka then?” he suggests. “Caffeine plus alcohol will get you buzzed and hyped up at the same time.”

  The combination sounds revolting.

  “All that will do is turn me into a hyperactive drunk,” I joke. “I’ll have an orange juice for now. I can use the extra vitamins.”

  “You got it, miss.”

  He pours my juice and sits it down in front of me. Before I take a sip, the man at the slot machine throws up in hands in disgust and leaves. I put money down on the bar to pay and rush to grab the machine. The instant I slide down on the stool, a soothing calmness settles over me.

  Sitting down at the machine feels comfortable, familiar, almost like coming back home.

  I know it well.

  It takes me only a few minutes of playing to make up for the lost time. Now all I need is to be patient, concentrate and play until it pays off. Unfortunately, this means I can’t leave my spot for any reason, not even to run to the restroom. Even if this takes several hours.

  I’m determined to prove that I can do what I say. I’m never able to resist a challenge.

  I wonder if Eva somehow discovered this about me, too?

  Three hours later after nonstop play, the slot machine predictably pays off seven hundred dollars in a shimmering display of blinking lights and music. A few people wandering past me glance my way and smile at my good luck.

  “Are the slots loose this morning?” an elderly man stops to ask. “I noticed your machine is paying off.”

  “About the same as always,” I tell him truthfully. “No more, no less.”

  I don’t bother explaining to him the statistics behind the slots in the casino. The machines will pay out the minimum eighty-five to ninety percent as required by the Nevada Gaming Commission over a specified length of time.

  Either you’re lucky or you’re not.

  Most gamblers are not. Even if they hit a winning streak, they’ll play the winnings until they end up back in the hole again.

  Gamblers never know when to quit.

  I hit the ‘cash out’ button on the slot machine and grab the bar-coded ticket showing my seven-hundred-dollar win.

  When I landed in Vegas, I was counting on a payoff of ten times this amount. I hope I’m doing the right thing working with Eva. Not that she gave me much choice.

  “You can have this slot machine if you want it,” I say to the man when I stand up. “I’m leaving.”

  He points a shaky finger gnarled by arthritis at me. “No, it’ll be a long time before that machine pays off again, young lady. It needs to be gassed up. I’ll go find another one.”

  I almost explain how statistically this isn’t true. That he has as much chance of winning at the slots right after a payout than at any other time. Then I think about where the machine’s numerical sequence is at. He’s correct this one time and is making the right decision to go for another machine.

  “Good luck,” I tell him before walking away.

  I head straight for the cash cage to turn in my paper ticket showing the winnings. While I’m waiting in line to cash out, a cocktail waitress pauses beside me.

  “This is for you, miss,” she says while trying to hand me a glass of champagne.

  I know better than to accept anything unless I’m willing to pay for it, which I’m not.

  “Oh, this isn’t mine,” I say in confusion, holding up both hands to refuse the glass of champagne. “I didn’t order anything. I’m done for the day.”

  “The champagne is courtesy of an admirer,” she answers. “It’s Dom Perignon champagne. There’s a card here for you, too.”

  She hands me the small envelope and waits while I pull out the card inside.

  “Tonight. Nine o’clock at the front entrance. Dress attire.”

  The card isn’t signed.

  There’s no doubt in my mind who the card is from.

  Eva.

  She said she’d be in touch. It doesn’t surprise me to learn she was watching me at the slot machine and knew the moment it paid off. The thought creeps me out.

  I’m in way over my head.

  “Thank you,” I say to the cocktail waitress, taking the glass from her.

  “Enjoy the champagne!” she says with a big smile. “You’ve caught someone’s eye.”

  I’ve caught someone’s eye, all right. Most likely, Kim in the casino security room.

  I take a sip of the champagne and let the delicious liquid slowly slide down my throat. It’s a damn shame the first time I drink expensive champagne, I’m standing in a queue line.

  “How would you prefer your cash?” the casino teller asks when I reach the window and slide my ticket to her. “Big bills or little?”

  “Big bills, please,” I reply.

  She makes sure I’m paying close attention before slowly counting out the money in front of me.

  “Okay?” she says when she hits seven hundred.

  I nod, and she slides it through the opening to me.

  “Thank you,” I say as I gather up the cash and cram it into my backpack.

  Spotting an empty red velvet chair against the wall, I head toward it. Taking five minutes to sit down, relax and enjoy the remaining champagne won’t kill me. I’m not eager to hurry back to my dumpy hotel.

  Settling down in the chair, I savor another sip of champagne. The thought of what tonight might bring fills me with a mixture of both dread and excitement.

  Life is crazy and unpredictable.

  What have I gotten myself into?

  Jade

  Outside the entrance to the Imperial Casino…

  I check my cell phone again. It’s already nine-thirty at night and I haven’t spotted Eva or King. I’m uncomfortable lurking around outside the entrance to the casino.

  The uniformed doorman standing a few feet away keeps shooting me suspicious glances. He probably thinks I’m a lame excuse for a prostitute unsuccessfully trying to reel in my next customer.

  The only article of clothing I brought with me to Vegas that could come close to ‘Dress Attire’ is a simple black dress made of t-shirt materi
al. I tossed it into my suitcase at the last minute along with my only pair of strappy heels.

  My outfit will have to do.

  It’s not as if I have extra money to go clothes shopping. I wouldn’t know what to buy if I did. The money from my winnings will be reinvested in my Vegas trip, not a flashy dress I’ll never wear again.

  Twenty minutes later, worry is setting in that maybe the card and glass of champagne was meant for someone else, not me. Maybe I misunderstood the meaning of the card which wasn’t signed.

  Wouldn’t I feel stupid to have dressed up for absolutely nothing?

  “Do you want me to call you a cab, miss?” the doorman finally asks me after several minutes of watching me from the corner of his eye. “Loitering isn’t allowed at the casino entrance. The Imperial has very strict rules.”

  “I’m not loitering,” I snap back. “I’m waiting on someone. They’re running late.”

  He rolls his eyes at me, unconvinced. “That’s what they all say, miss. I’ve heard that line a million times. Ten more minutes and then you must move along. Sorry, casino rules. I follow them, not make them.”

  “Don’t worry. If they don’t show up in ten more minutes, I’m leaving. I’m not exactly enjoying my time standing out here in the cold. I thought Las Vegas was supposed to be hot? And you don’t need to call me a cab. My rental car is parked a few blocks away.”

  He folds his hands behind his back, stares straight ahead and doesn’t say anything else.

  “What did you mean by ‘they all say’?” I ask him after an uncomfortably long silence. “Who is ‘all’?”

  “You know who I’m referring to,” he replies. “The working girls here in Vegas. They all try to do the same thing you’re doing. Hang around the front door until an unsuspecting customer with a pocketful of cash comes along.”

  “Do I look like a hooker to you?” I ask. “Tell me the truth. I’m asking for your honest opinion.”

  He turns to me again and studies me up and down before answering. “No, you don’t,” he relents with a tiny smile. “Not really.”

  “Good,” I say in relief. “You had me worried there for a minute.”

  “Miss, do you want my advice?” he says. “There’s plenty of other fish in the sea. You’re too pretty to be left standing on a sidewalk waiting for a man to show up late.”

  “It’s not a guy I’m waiting on,” I tell him, shifting my weight from one leg to the other. My high heels are already killing me. “It’s a girlfriend. She was supposed to be here at nine to meet me.”

  “Boyfriend or girlfriend,” he says. “It doesn’t make a difference. Either way, stop wasting your time hanging around here and go have some fun. You’re in Vegas. The night is still young. If you need suggestions on where to go, I can give you ideas.”

  I peek at my phone. It’s almost ten.

  “I’ll wait five more minutes,” I tell him. “That’s all, I promise.”

  “Five more minutes and that’s it,” he says. “Then you have to leave. Don’t make me ask you twice. Okay?”

  I nod back at him. “Thanks.”

  Shifting my weight again off my cramping feet and pinched toes, I try to find a more comfortable position. I’ve watched throngs of women walk past me in three-inch heels and none of them seemed to have an issue with shoes.

  Maybe there’s something wrong with my feet. Or my shoes. They felt comfortable when I tried them on at the discount store.

  I’ve almost given up when a long, stretched black limousine with tinted windows pulls to a stop in front of the casino.

  The doorman hurries over to open the back door.

  “Good evening, sir,” he says cheerfully to the lone passenger. “You’re mighty spiffy tonight.”

  My heart stops beating when Sugar steps out of the limousine.

  He carefully buttons his dark, tailored suit jacket and turns to smile at me. The moment his gaze lands on me it’s like the full wattage of the blazing Florida sun hitting me full force.

  Whoa…damn.

  What is he doing here? This is just my luck.

  Sugar is a constant distraction, always turning up at the worst moments.

  “Sorry I’m late,” he says hurrying over to take my hand in his. “Traffic on the strip was awful, and I didn’t have your cell phone number. I’ll make it up to you, I promise. Are you hungry? I’ve reserved a table at a new restaurant for us. Tonight is their soft opening, which means it hasn’t opened to the public yet. Do you eat sushi? Please tell me you do.”

  He’s talking fast, and I can’t keep up with his rambling questions.

  Why is he asking me about sushi? Which I’ve never had before because I couldn’t afford it. At least not real sushi, only the kind sold in supermarket coolers.

  The doorman glances in surprise from me to Sugar, then back to me. I’m not the only one who is having difficulties figuring out what the hell is happening.

  Sugar gives my hand a gentle tug and starts pulling me toward the limousine.

  “It’s chilly out here tonight,” he says. “Why aren’t you wearing a sweater? You can borrow my jacket if you’re cold. Or you can snuggle up close to me and I’ll keep you warm.”

  He winks at me and I melt inside. I’m in so much trouble where this man is concerned.

  “Wait!” I say, placing a hand on his arm to stop him from pulling me into the limo. “Back up. I don’t understand. What are you doing here?”

  “Picking you up for dinner,” he replies with a laugh. “I know I’m running late, and you’re probably pissed at me. Again, I’m sorry. Everyone runs late in Vegas. Always add thirty minutes or an hour to everything.”

  He turns loose of my hand and slides an arm around my waist to pull me closer. The heat is emanating from his body and it’s hard to resist the urge to snuggle into him against the cool night air. The scent of his aftershave is intoxicating, causing my head to swim.

  “You obviously received my note because you’re waiting here,” he says. “You’re beautiful by the way.” He reaches over to touch a strand of my hair. “I love your hair loose and down.”

  For a split-second, I’m glad I took the time to wash and blow dry my long hair. Usually I let it air-dry, comb the tangles out and let it go.

  “Wait! Hang on! You’re the one who sent me the note and the glass of champagne?” I ask, confused. “Why?”

  I was certain Eva sent the note.

  He stops talking and gives me a quizzical look. “What do you mean?” he asks. “Yes, I sent the note! Who did you think sent it? Who else do you know in Vegas? I knew you would show up eventually in the casino, so I had my guys watch out for you. I wanted to see you again, and I also wanted to know why you ran out on me.”

  It never occurred to me the note might be from Sugar. I didn’t expect to hear from him again.

  Eva sending me the note was the only thing that made sense. I didn’t have a clue what else she might have in store for me. I was afraid to give it much thought in case I freaked myself out.

  Sugar draws back slightly to stare down at me. His eyes are troubled.

  “You’re not backing out on me now, are you?” he asks, growing serious. “I’ve looked forward to seeing you all day. I have a big night planned for us. Dinner first and then a special reserved room at a dance club that I hope you’ll enjoy.”

  Slowly he’s realizing that for whatever reason, I wasn’t expecting him to show up.

  “Am I interrupting a date with another guy?” he blurts out, worry growing in his voice. “When I saw you standing here all dressed up, I assumed you were waiting for me.”

  I raise my eyebrows at him.

  “That sounded worse than I meant for it to,” he says, quickly backpedaling.

  “You would automatically assume that I would come running if you sent a note telling me to meet you somewhere?” I ask. “You wouldn’t wait for an answer first before making reservations?”

  This rubs me the wrong way. It’s presumptuous of him to th
ink I would come running when he snaps his fingers. He must not be accustomed to being turned down by many, if any women.

  “You didn’t sign the note,” I point out. “How was I supposed to guess it was from you? I know other people here in Vegas. You’re not the only one.”

  “You do?” he says, his eyebrows lifting in surprise. “Who? You said you’ve only been here for three days. I didn’t get the impression you knew any locals. Did you meet new friends here already?”

  “Sure,” I say. “The note might’ve come from someone else. I thought it did.”

  Sugar’s bodyguard, Leroy climbs out of the limousine and slowly walks around to the passenger side. He coughs loudly to draw our attention and clears his throat.

  Sugar ignores him.

  “I can’t stay parked here at the curb all night,” Leroy finally calls out. “We don’t want to get another ticket. I’m tired of running down to City Hall to pay those damn things for you.”

  Sugar grips both my hands in his and stares deep into my eyes. “Come with me,” he says. “Okay? We can figure all this out in the limo. Give me a chance since you’re already dressed up. What could be the harm?”

  How can I possibly resist?

  Sugar

  Leroy makes a big, elaborate show of opening the passenger door for us with a flourish, and I help Jade slide inside.

  My personal limo is big enough to comfortably seat ten people inside with a fully stocked bar and television. Keeping a limo on hand twenty-four hours a day in Vegas is the one luxury I can’t do without.

  “Sit anywhere,” I say to Jade, waving a hand at the long row of wide leather seats.

  Jade slides down to the middle of the limo and I settle in close beside her. Leroy slams the door shut and goes around to the driver’s side. After he starts the engine, the glass window between us slides halfway open.

  “Where to now?” Leroy calls back to me.

  I frown at the question. I’d told Leroy about the new sushi restaurant this afternoon. Leroy hates raw fish and thought my choice of a restaurant was a bad idea.