BLOCK: Social Media #3 (8 page)

The bank’s next card is a five.

"Bank score of five requires a third card." The dealer swipes out another card from the shoe and flips it over.

My whole worlds stops. I am still holding my breath, unable to exhale the stale oxygen coursing through my veins. Why the fuck did I let myself get into this situation?

How could I bet a woman in a card game?

I swear to God, I’ll never do it again. I’ll never be this asshole again. Just let me win my—

"Four! Bank has nine, player has nine." The dealer looks up at me. "It’s a tie! You win! Congratulations, winners!"

I look over at Li and he’s smiling. "I told you, Asher. We’re lucky together. Let’s do business. I’ll call you next week. Your Grace is down in the private villa bar with her friend. I’ll have Carl take you to her."

He shakes my hand as I try to understand what just happened. My mind is blank. My whole body is in overdrive, my heart is beating wildly, I’m sweating, and relieved and stressed out all at once.

I nod my head at him as I walk to the door, leaving all my money on the table. Someone will take care of it for me. I’m too shaken up to even think about the money.

All I think about is how close I came to losing her.

I can’t lose her.

I will never let that happen again.

Chapter Seven

"O
NE
minute I’m enjoying my night being a good-luck charm for a filthy rich old guy and the next fucking Vaughn Asher is ruining my night." I take a long sip of my giant margarita. "Can you believe that asshole followed me to Vegas? I’m working and he’s gonna ruin my job."

"Mmm-hmm," the bartender says absently. "I hate it when Vaughn Asher shows up on his movie premiere night and follows my ass around Vegas. Fucking sucks."

I narrow my eyes at him. "Are you making fun of me?"

"Grace!"

I look across the bar and spy Kristi, waving at me frantically.

"Ah, fuck. And her." I point to Kristi, weaving her way through the crowd. "She’s supposed to marry Johnny Blazen tomorrow, but, pfft. I don’t see it."

The bartender stops washing the glass. "So let me get this straight. You" —he points his wet glass at me—"think you’re being stalked by Vaughn Asher. And she" —he points to Kristi who is almost at the bar now—"thinks she’s marrying Johnny Blazen tomorrow."

I take another long draw on my margarita. "That’s right."

"No more drinks for you."

"Grace!" Kristi says as she places her hand on my shoulder as she tries to catch her breath.

"Let me guess," the bartender says, pointing at her stomach. "That’s Johnny Blazen’s love child you’re carrying, right?"

"Oh my God, is he psychic?" Kristi squeals.

"You’re cut off too."

"I’m not drinking!"

"Out, both of you. You’re both on drugs."

"Come on, Grace. Come back to the rehearsal party with me, please. I need your support tonight. Please. His family is so unhappy with me. They’re not excited about this at all. I need you." She gives me a pouty face that would make a six-year-old proud.

"Kristi, I told you what I think. Marrying him is a big mistake."

"Why though? Please, if you know something I don’t, just tell me. Because I seriously love him, Grace."

"Well, of course you do, he’s a famous football player. He’s got a ton of money and he’s hot. But can you honestly say he loves you back? I mean, he won’t even move out of the house he shares with his ex. She owns it, the divorce is final, and he’s still living there."

"She’s not there though, she’s in the Caribbean—"

"Oh." I put up a hand. “I can’t even go there. The fucking Virgin Islands are where all my troubles started!"

"But Grace, did you hear rumors or something? Please, we’re friends, right? You can tell me."

"Kristi, how are you so dense? The man is twenty-four years old and he’s been divorced twice! You will be his third wife. You got pregnant when he was still married," I say, pointing down at her baby bump. "You were a cheater! Women all over the world are cursing your cheating name. You cannot seriously be blind to all this!"

“But all those things have a really good explanation, Grace. I mean, sure, the divorce thing is real. And yeah, I’m nervous about being the third wife and all. Especially since we’re having a baby. But—"

"Oh, fuck,” I interrupt Kristi. “Her again?" Vaughn Asher’s girlfriend is on the TV. She’s poking her belly, lifting up her shirt to show the cameras her pregnancy. It looks like she’s puffing out her stomach on purpose if you ask me.

"Four months," she says, answering the reporter’s questions about how far along she is.

"Oh, I know," Kristi says, leaning into me. "She’s been on TV all damn day. I’m so sick of her. Who cares, anyway, right?"

I shoot Kristi a look. "Well, you would say that, you’re the other woman. Johnny got you pregnant while he was still married. And now this woman is accusing Vaughn Asher of cheating on her. It kinda hits home, don’t you think?"

"I honestly don’t see how our situations are the same, Grace. I mean—"

"Are you serious?" I just look at her with my mouth open. "OK, I have nothing for that. It’s so obvious, if you can’t see the similarities, I can’t help you. And God only knows how many girls Vaughn Asher has slept with. Johnny and Vaughn are two cheating assholes who deserve to have their pricks chopped off!"

"Why are you so hung up on Vaughn Asher? I mean, seriously—"

"Because,
Kristi
…" I seethe her name. It’s filled with venom. Directed at the wrong person, I admit. It should be directed at Vaughn or myself, because there’s no way a man like Asher is not involved with a woman every single minute of the day. "I’m Vaughn Asher’s
other woman
. Just like you are Johnny Blazen’s. But unlike you, I have the good sense to know what a ho I am, and—"

"That’s enough, Grace." I turn around and Vaughn is standing behind me, his arms crossed over his chest. "That’s e-fucking-nough."

"Oh my God, you’re Vaughn Asher’s girlfriend?" Kristi squeals, shaking me by the shoulders. "Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God!"

"I am not his girlfriend, Kristi! Jesus, wake the hell up! That"—I point up at the TV where the bitch is still talking about the future Baby Asher—"is his girlfriend right up there!"

"Kristi, is it?" Vaughn asks in his I’m-the-reasonable-one-here voice. "Grace is my girlfriend, that bitch is the lying ho. Grace." He turns back to me. "She’s not pregnant with my baby. I slept with her once, six months ago, so there’s no way that baby is mine. I made it very clear there was going to be nothing more between us before I met you on Saint Thomas and she obviously took it badly. I did not sleep with her that night. I dismissed her. She’s a liar. You, Grace Kinsella, are the only woman I’ve slept with since we met."

"I don’t believe you," I sneer.

"I don’t care. You’re drunk so I’ll just explain it to you again tomorrow when we wake up."

"I’m not going home with you."

"Oh, yes, Miss Kinsella, you are. Because you have no idea what I just went through to make sure I could have you tonight. There’s no way I’m letting you go now."

And then he hoists me up and swings me over his shoulder.

"Send her tab to my room," he calls out over the cheers from a crowd of men as we pass. "She’s with me from now on."

Chapter Eight

G
RACE
pounds her little fists on my back, demanding to be put down.

"Will you come along nicely? Or should I carry you all the way upstairs?"

She lets out a groan as I walk, bouncing her along. "I’ll walk nicely."

I set her down and she straightens her dress, looking around at the people who are now staring at us. She smooths her hair and then squares her chin and shoulders, steeling herself for a confrontation as she looks me in the eye. "I’m not going to your room, Asher. That much is for damn sure. And if you pick me up again, I will scream."

And then she turns on her heel and makes her way towards a restaurant. She approaches the hostess, and then she disappears inside.

Jesus Christ. She tires me out. I just spent the worst hour of my life trying to win an opportunity to see her tonight and set things straight, and she blows me off like I’m some… some… some nobody. I scrub my hands down my face and go after her. Again.

Why, Asher? Why are you so fixated on this girl?

I look around at all the women in this hotel. So many to choose from. I spot ten or fifteen who would be candidates for my sexual attention. A few even catch my surveillance and openly flirt. But I don’t want them. I want the one who just walked away from me.

I huff out a breath and follow her. "Good evening," I tell the hostess. "I’m meeting the woman who just came in. I’ll just—"

"I’m sorry, sir. The lady said you were harassing her and asked me to call security if you tried to follow her."

"You’re kidding, right? She and I are dating."

"I’m sorry, the lady said she’s not interested and wants to be—"

"I’m sure there’s a misunderstanding. Perhaps she meant someone else?"

The hostess gives me a sneer. "Is there another Vaughn Asher who looks just like you? Perhaps you’re his twin brother?"

"Ha ha." I peek past the hostess turned security and spy Grace at the bar, chatting with the bartender. This restaurant is quiet and almost empty. "Look, just let me in so I can talk to her, OK? Obviously you can see we’re having a little fight—"

"Little fight?" The hostess laughs. "Dude, your girlfriend is pregnant and you’ve been cheating on her with that woman, who said she knew nothing of your secret life. So—"

"None of that is true, OK? I just need a minute to explain what happened to Grace and then she’ll see I’m the victim here. Me! I was never dating that bitch on TV and she certainly isn’t carrying my child since I haven’t slept with her in six months. She’s a fraud, a liar, a gold-digger! I’m innocent and you, ma’am, are helping to perpetuate her plan to ruin my life. That woman," I say, loud enough for Grace to turn around, "is the one I’m interested in. Grace," I call. "Just listen to me for a moment." I look back at the hostess. "Five minutes. Just give me five minutes and if Miss Kinsella wants me to leave, then I will. But I’m tired of fielding strangers who think they know what the fuck is going on when they don’t. I’m having my say tonight, whether you want me to or not."

The hostess crosses her arms and sneers. But just then a man in a suit approaches looking like he’s the manager. "Can I help you with something?"

"Yes," I say calmly. "That woman at the bar is my girlfriend. There was a public accusation against me today that is false and I need five minutes of her time to state my case. That’s all. Five. Minutes."

He looks me up and down. "
Invisible Man
?" He smiles. "Oh, yes! I love that movie! You rocked that shit, right?"

"I did." I give the hostess a smug look all the while beaming my movie-star smile at the manager. "So look"—I check his name tag—"Mr. Sollen, I just need a moment. That woman at your bar is the only reason I’m in Vegas right now. I need to talk. Please."

I stare at him as he weighs his decision.

When was the last time I had to beg someone to give me what I want? When was the last time I was denied? Maybe Conner was right. Maybe my life has been too easy and when things get hard, I just bail and don’t know how to cope.