A Gentleman's Affair (18 page)

“Thank you, Patrice,” I say loud enough for
her to hear without shouting. “Are you hungry, Scarlett?”

“Actually, I am. I skipped breakfast this
morning. Thanks, Donovan.” She reaches for a sandwich and continues
to make her notes.

I sit back quietly, not wanting to interrupt
her creative process, and I eat. Thankful that we are done choosing
furniture, drapes and carpets, but knowing that this means after
the redecorating is complete, our time together will end. Or will
it? I have thought about asking her to do the interior design for
Pisa as well. But I will wait to mention that.

I check the time and see that it is already
three thirty. Time seems to fly when we are together. She closes
her notebook, gathers up the carpet samples, and looks over at me
with a smile.

“So, we are all done for now. I will put the
orders in for the draperies and carpet, and I expect the painters
first thing Wednesday to start with the lobby.” She says,
nodding.

“That sounds good, Scarlett. Thank you so
much for all of your hard work and for putting up with me through
this.” I nod with a smile.

“You were easy. I have some clients that
fight with me over every single thing.” She laughs, takes her
briefcase and starts to walk towards the door.

“Well, thank you then,” I laugh. “I was
wondering if you had plans for dinner? Say around seven tonight. If
you are free that is.”

“Oh…I uh, sort of have a date. Another
time?” She looks down, now rushing to leave.

A date?

“Of course. Speak to you soon, then…” I try
to hide my shock and disappointment with a smile as she leaves, but
fail, feeling as though I have just been punched in the stomach. A
date?

Where did this prick come from all of the
sudden? She wasn’t seeing anyone just the other night. I guess that
I misread some signals here. Fuck. I am at a loss for words.

Fuck.

Chapter Eighteen

~And the hits just keep on coming~

A date? Alright I need to pull it together.
We are working together. No, she is working for me. That is all.
Funny how easy it is to misread a wink here, a flirty smile there.
So after spending all weekend with her, misreading signs, I am
right back at square one. Base camp. Fucked.

Grateful for that trip to Vegas now more
than ever, I ask Patrice to move my flight to tomorrow morning
instead of Thursday. I need to go get drunk, gamble away a small
fortune, something… anything to forget about what a huge asshole I
just made of myself. Again, fuck!

I am finished with work for the day, and
instead of sitting around crying in my Absinthe, I decide to go for
a run. No need to worry about losing something that you never had.
Right?

After changing out of my suit to a pair of
running shorts—and not those ball-hugging spandex ones either—I
leave the hotel and head down to the sand. The sun is just
beginning to set, and the surf is low so I decide to run along the
shoreline.

I won’t bore you with the details of what is
going on in my head at the moment, but I will say that after my
run, I am going to The Underground for a drink…or drinks. Seeing
that I am flying in the morning and not working, I can and will get
heavily intoxicated. 

Showered, clean shaven, and dressed in jeans
and a black button-down shirt, I make my way downstairs to the
club. Time to drink that girl right out of my head.

I sit down on a stool at the bar and order
my usual, Jack and Coke. Make mine a double, please. Jared notices
that something seems “off” with me and in true bartender/good buddy
fashion, begins asking questions.

“Dude, what the fuck is wrong with you?” he
asks while pouring my second drink.

“ ‘Women’ is what’s wrong with me,” I
respond in between sips. “I’m trying to figure out why I started
this search in the beginning. What the fuck was I thinking?”

“You were thinking that you were sick of the
game, if I remember correctly.”

“Oh, but this game is even harder to play.
Life before was simple, man. This…this is just bullshit.” I say,
finishing number two. “Give me another.”

“Slow down, dude,” he replies as he refills
my glass.

I nod. I drink.

“So who was it this time?” he asks,
snickering.

“No one you know.” Drinking.

“What happened to Lily’s sister? You two
were all over each other at the wedding reception.”

“Yes we were, but you know how it is with
long distance relationships. It was just…I don’t know. It isn’t
going to happen.” I finish three. “Don’t look at me like that. Give
me another.”

“Whatever you say, boss.” He shakes his head
as he refills my glass for the third time.

“Thank you…” I drink.

“Seriously, man, do I need to kick your ass
or something? You don’t get weird over girls. Any girls.”

“You just might have to,” I say, nod…and
drink.

“Just say the word. I’ll fuck you up, man,”
he laughs.

But you have to know Jared to understand
that this is his way of trying to help. Reminding me that I lead
with my dick, not my heart. Well the “old” me did anyway.

“I hear you loud and clear, Jared. Thank
you, man.” So…

A slight buzz has already set in, and I am
now being told by an employee, who is only 23 by the way, to stop
acting like a bitch or he will take away my man card. He does have
a point. So I square my shoulders and puff out my chest as I man
up. I suddenly hear my mom’s voice telling me to sit up
straight…

“Alright, I have an early flight to catch in
the morning, so I’m going to head upstairs.” I pull my wallet out
of my back pocket and pull out a hundred dollar bill, handing it to
Jared. I may sign his paychecks, but he still appreciates my big
tips.

“Oh… no, man. You don’t have to do that.” He
puts up his hands in protest.

“Take it,” I urge. “Please.” And I set it on
the bar, knowing that he will eventually give in anyway.

“Thanks, boss. Hey, enjoy Vegas.” He nods as
he scoops up the bill.

“Thank you.” I nod back before leaving the
club.

Thankfully the flight to Vegas was pretty
smooth. Turbulence and hangovers do not mix. Just a slight
hangover, actually. Four doubles in twenty minutes can hit you
pretty hard on an empty stomach.

But enough about that. I go straight from
the airport to the site, excited to see an actual standing building
instead of the metal frame that I saw the last time that I was
here.

As the driver pulls up to the site, I get
out of the car and just stand there for a moment, taking in the
tall building that I see before me. Pisa. Right here in front of
me. It is really happening. It has happened. This is just too good
not to share with someone. A father. A mother. A wife. A
girlfriend, at the very least?

But that said, I got here on my own. This is
my baby. My vision come to fruition, and I will not let anything
ruin my moment. Except for one thing…

Danielle.

What the fuck is she doing here? Why is she
standing near MY hotel waving at me? I close my eyes hoping that
she is a mirage…a bad dream. But when I open them, she is still
there. This is not happening. Not today.

So I tell the driver to wait and walk over
to tell the cheating whore to stop stalking me.

“What are you doing here?” I ask, gritting
my teeth.

“I was already here with my girls, and I
read in the paper that the building was up so I came to check it
out,” she says with her lying whore mouth. 

“Leave, now. You are not now, nor will you
ever be, welcome here. And while we are at it…The Underground, and
all of La Fuga are off-limits as well.”

“Jeez, Donovan. Why the hostility?”

“Don’t fuck with me right now, Danielle. I
will not let you ruin this for me. If I see you anywhere near
anything that is remotely connected to me, I will have you arrested
for trespassing. Got it? Now, go.” Veins bulging…nostrils
flaring…probably some spit flying. Fuck, I hate this girl.

“Fine, I’ll go. You don’t have to be such a
dick about it.” She finally turns to leave.

Thank fuck. Just seeing her face pisses me
off.

“I just wanted to congratulate you.”

“Alright, thank you. Goodbye.” And good
riddance, cheating whore. Oh shit. She stopped walking away. What
now?

“Donovan, will you ever forgive me?”

“No. Please leave.”

And the light bulb finally goes on, as she
finally understands that I do not want her here, and she finally
leaves.

The day that I have been waiting for has now
been tainted. What next? Ugh! I get back into the car, and the
driver takes me to my hotel. Yet another reason to start drinking.
Thank you, Danielle. Thank you.

So with two days before the topping out
party, and nothing but free time on my hands, I decide to grab a
bite and do some gambling. I need to change things up. After last
night, and the Danielle situation today, I have had about all a man
can take.

The casino is on the slow side right now, a
lot of people taking a break for dinner, I imagine. I find a poker
table with a pretty dealer and take a seat. In no time, a waitress
comes by for drink orders and I order my usual, telling her to keep
them coming, placing a fifty dollar bill on her tray for
encouragement.

Money talks, and I need alcohol.

A few drinks, and quite a few hands in, I am
already up 2,500 dollars. At least this is going my way. My poker
face is working well for me tonight, and I plan on cleaning out the
casino. Maybe not “cleaning out”, but I am good, so they will take
a hit and probably “comp” my suite…

On to the craps table, and that waitress is
following me over with another drink. I like her. She takes care of
me.

“What’s your name?” I ask the eager
waitress.

“Destiny,” she smiles as she hands me my
drink.

“Well, Destiny, you are I are about to
become partners. Whatever I win for the remainder of the evening,
you will get half. Just take care of me.” I wink, tossing another
fifty on the tray.

“Yes sir!” she beams, her eyes all lit up
and her smile huge. She did just watch me clean up at the poker
table, so she knows that I could make her a small fortune
tonight.

“Next shooter,” the craps dealer calls out.
I move my way up to the head of the table and set all of my chips
down. The dealer acknowledges me with a nod, glances at my large
stack of chips and hands me the dice.

“All bets are closed,” the dealer calls out.
I shake the dice up in my hand before tossing them onto the table,
watching along with the crowd that has now gathered, as they tumble
down the green felt.

“Winner eleven,” the dealer shouts out. The
players and onlookers cheer. And I have just doubled my money. I
roll again.

I win again. And again. And again. The crowd
watches intently as the “high roller”, me, continues to place large
bets and continues to win. Destiny has not only returned with
another drink for me, she is now watching with dollar signs in her
eyes.

But the table is becoming fuzzy. I decide to
take my chips and go before I make an expensive mistake. I tell
Destiny to follow me to the Cash-Out window to collect her half.
When all is said and done, she took away 8,000 dollars. Not bad for
a night’s work I’d say.

“Thank you, sir. This is the biggest tip
I’ve ever gotten,” she says, grinning widely.

“You’re very welcome,” I slur, feeling a
little more than buzzed at this point.

“Are you done for the night, sir?”

“No but I think I will just stick to slots
from here on out. Point me in the direction of the VIP room.” I
search the room through squinty eyes.

“Uh, sir, we are standing right in front of
it.” She smiles out of politeness.

“Yes. That’s the one.” I wink at her and
make my way to the room.

“Thanks again, sir,” she calls out before
going off to share her good news with her co-workers.

I enter the room and go straight to the bar.
It is usually pretty quiet in here. There aren’t as many VIPs as
there used to be. And they serve real drinks in here, not those
small watered-down versions like you get on the floor. It just
takes a lot more to get drunk out there. So before I go hit the
slot machines, I hang out in here and drink.

An older, very well-dressed gentleman
sitting next to me at the bar strikes up a conversation. I am happy
to have the company, actually. We talk about sports, gambling of
course, women. He is an interesting guy, but I am starting to see
two of him. Fuck it, I don’t care. I keep drinking. 

I look around the room, count approximately
twenty-five (or fifty) people and inform the bartender that the
next round is on me, tossing 300 dollars on the bar as I order a
bottle of Cristal for me and my new friend.

The bartender makes an announcement, and I
am rewarded with a round of applause. People are nice here. I might
stay forever. I do have my new friend after all. Fuck. I am
drunk.

After a couple of hours and never having
made it to the slot machines, I sign a credit card slip for well
over 3,000 dollars, and let me just say that it was worth every
single cent.

I say goodbye to my new friends and attempt
to stand up and go to my suite, feeling the need to pass the fuck
out. But my legs decide not to work, and I hit the floor. Maybe I
passed out. I’m not really sure.

When I come to, I see the face of an angel
before me. Am I dead? No, it is Scarlett. Someone splash my face
with cold water, I am seeing Scarletts.

“Donovan, are you okay?”

No, that is her. I recognize the voice.

“Scarlett? What are you doing in Vegas?” I
try to get up, but it is hard when you are this dizzy.

“Let’s get you to your room, Donovan,” she
laughs, followed with a disapproving shake of her head.