What Stays in Vegas (17 page)

"Friday," she said.  "After work."

"This Friday?"

"Yes, this Friday, as in three days ago.  Megan was at her sister's bachelorette party and he didn't want to go home."

He lied to me.

“So he never went out with Marvin to network with some guy from Loose Cannons?” I asked.  I was slowly getting a migraine.

“No way,” she said.  “He was with me all night.  Well, not
all
night, but you know what I mean.  Besides, we got the Loose Cannons account weeks ago.  I guess Marvin and Tom stalked the guy all over Boston, which is a little creepy if you ask me.” 

I couldn’t believe it.  Megan was probably at home worried sick.  Meanwhile, Nick is in Las Vegas borrowing stories from other people’s lives in order to manipulate his best friend.  The same best friend he spent the last three years taking for granted until she sent him a few dirty texts.  I took three Advil out of my purse and swallowed them with my coffee.

“I thought you had a crush on him?” asked Kara.  “Why are you so upset about all this anyway?”

"I do, I mean, I did," I said.  "It's just that I met somebody else.  Somebody who probably wouldn’t have married a girl from a cruise ship after he'd met me."

"Is it serious?" asked Kara.

"It could be."  I smiled to myself.  "But I've made such a mess.  Why couldn't I leave things alone with Nick?  Things happen for a reason, don't they?  I should've known when he married Megan that him and I just weren't meant to be."

"True," said Kara.  "But if things happen for a reason, then so did this.  Maybe it happened this way so you'd finally be able to let him go."

The pigeon cocked its head at me, waiting for my reply.  Kara had a point.

"You are so wise for a receptionist," I said.  "So what do you think I should do?"

"You've got to send him back home.  You've got to tell him that it's too late."

I sighed as I pictured all my artwork lined up along Nick’s windowsill.  He had been an awesome friend to me all these years, and it was highly unlikely that things could go back to normal between us.  I imagined passing him in the hall and pretending to check my watch in order to avoid eye contact.  But it was me who had started this whole mess.  Me and whoever invented text messaging, the stupid idiot.  I needed to accept the consequences. 

Besides, when I thought of all the lies Nick had told me and the kind of man he was turning out to be, my idealistic opinion of him began to shift.  Maybe he wasn't the awesomest friend on the planet after all.  Maybe he was a jerk. 

I gulped down the last of my coffee and said goodbye to Kara.  I promised to let her know as soon as I had shipped Nick back to Massachusetts.  

I pulled into the next place on Kendra's list and looked up at the sign. 
Mocha Fresco
it said in large brown letters, except in place of the "o" in "Fresco" there was a coffee cup with a paintbrush poised above it.  Kendra hadn't really given me any instructions on what to do at this place, just that I should give her name to the girl at the counter.  I went inside and waited by the register for somebody to help me.  It seemed to be some kind of art gallery/coffee shop combo.  I liked it.

A girl with a neon pink pixie cut finally appeared out of a back room and smiled cheerfully at me.  "Can I help you?" she asked.

"Yes," I said.  "Kendra Stoltz asked me to stop by here.  She didn't really tell me why though, so I was kind of hoping you knew?"

"Ah," said the girl.  "You must be Tessa?"

“Uh, yeah, that’s me.” 
Why would she know my name?
 

"Just a sec."  She winked at me before ducking below the counter.  I heard her shuffling through some papers.

“My name’s Holly,” she said when she finally popped back up.  “If you’ll just sign this form I can give you a little tour of the place.  You’re not actually scheduled until Wednesday, but I can show you around.”

“Scheduled for what?” I asked.  “I thought I was just supposed to pick up something for my boss?”

“Well, if your boss is Kendra Stoltz, she called here this weekend and rented out studio space in your name.  Twice a week, starting this Wednesday and continuing for an 'undetermined amount of time.'  She asked that it be stocked with some strange supplies.”  She pulled out another paper and began reading from it  “Paper towel rolls, coffee filters, stirrers, bottle caps, and, I quote, ‘any other materials that would normally be thrown in the garbage.’”  She glanced up at me.  “Are you some kind of trash collector?”

“I guess you could call me that," I laughed.

Holly shrugged.  "Hey, we get all kinds here.  There's a guy who comes in on Mondays with a trash bag full of dog hair.  Come on, I'll give you a tour."

  Studio space!  All for me!  I couldn’t believe it.  I followed Holly around the studio, smiling at the other people who were there, peacefully working on different projects.  The main part of the shop was set up with tables for workshops, and off to the side was the coffee bar, some comfortable looking couches, and a fireplace.  Artwork for sale by local artists lined the walls.   Through a door in the back were the three private studios, each with their own skylights, and shelves stocked with everything I could possibly need.   

“You look excited,” said Holly.  “You've got a very generous boss.” 

“You have no idea!" I said.

Here I was, thinking that Kendra was mad at me, when she had really been doing something like
this
.  I practically skipped through the parking lot to get to my car.  Wednesday was two whole days away and  I was already itching to get my hands on some materials besides paperclips and pushpins.  I would finally be an artist again, without anybody from HR ratting me out for stealing office supplies.

- 19 -

I called Nick as soon as I got in the car.  Between my conversation with Kara and the excitement of finding out I had my own studio, I was pretty fired up and ready to tell him exactly what I thought about everything he had done. 

"Hey you," answered Nick, on the fourth ring.

Oh God, I'm now a "you."  This is even worse than I thought.

“What are you doing?” I asked.  The sound of
buildings and cars being blown up echoed in the background.

“Pay-per-view.  I hope you don’t mind.  You’re not paying for this stuff anyway, right?”

“Uh, yeah," I said.  "Just keep it clean.”  Thoughts of Margaret Sherman reviewing an itemized list of dirty pay-per-view movies gave me the cold sweats.  “Look, I’ll meet you in the restaurant downstairs in fifteen minutes, ok?  We need to talk.”  I hung up without waiting for a response and turned onto Las Vegas Boulevard.

I had gotten used to driving up and down The Strip.  By now it was an every day occurrence to pull up alongside beautiful people in beautiful cars - and after a month of hanging out with Kendra, I had almost become a beautiful person myself.   I stopped at a traffic light outside The Mirage and eyed my oversized sunglasses and diamond studded hoop earrings in the mirror - fake diamonds, of course, as I am still existing on an admin’s salary. 

But if you didn’t know any better, you might think that I’ve lived here all my life.  Two cute guys in a Mercedes tooted their horn as they passed me and turned into the hotel.  Tourists.  Or maybe members of a soon-to-be bachelor party.  Whatever they were here for, they had come to escape the real world.  And here I am, fortunate enough for my real world to have ended up in Las Vegas. 

Over the past few days I've actually been toying with the idea of staying in Vegas permanently.  I mean sure,  I would have the same lousy secretarial job no matter where I moved.  But at least here there is sunshine year round, and bright lights, and excitement.  There's a really great guy named Chris.  What's waiting for me back home?  My family, yes.  But there are planes and cell phones and the Internet, so staying connected isn't really an issue these days.  Besides, it’s
my
life we’re talking about, and my family would want me to be happy, right?  And sure, I might miss the changing of the seasons and all the hoopla over pumpkins and foliage and chirping birds.  But in all honesty, the birds do start to get on your nerves after a while. 

And yes, I understand that if I were to stay in Las Vegas I wouldn’t have the hotel suite, or the BMW, or the expense account, forever.  I would, however, have the chance to look back at my life and say that I did something kind of awesome.  Something that didn't involve filing, or ordering sandwiches, or Rob Dorfman.  But really, I was just kicking the idea around. 

I pulled into the Marriott and parked the car, pushing my sunglasses to the top of my head as I walked toward the entrance.  I felt as if I was being watched.  I scanned the windows of the restaurant and sure enough, there was Nick already seated at a table and drinking a beer.  He didn't take his eyes off of me as I walked.  Had he really told Kara that he was in love with me?  I felt a flutter in my stomach as I remembered all the times he had hugged me goodnight after a night out after work, and all the nights I had cried myself to sleep after he had gotten married.  I thought about all of the flirting that had led up to this very moment.  We had just been joking around, hadn't we? 

But then Nick left his wife and snuck off to Vegas, and, in the most tragic case of bad timing ever, decided that he wanted to be with
me.
  Maybe a month ago I would have been game for whatever this entailed, but I was a changed woman now.  I had higher standards and self respect.  But Nick hadn't changed.  Oh no.  Nick looked the same and he probably smelled the same.  That famous crooked smile he was giving me as I walked towards his table was definitely the same.  His hair looked as if he had been surfing all day, even though I knew he had only been lounging around in my hotel room, the lazy bastard.  Maybe he had been lounging around in my bed.  My heart beat a little faster.

Y
ou’re a fickle, spineless idiot, Tessa
Golden.

I told the voice in my head to shut up as I sat down at the table.  Nick had already ordered me a glass of wine and we locked eyes as he handed it to me.  My old friend, the one who had gotten me through many a bad day, and who had my artwork lined up along his windowsill, had finally come for me.  The one thing that home had that Vegas didn’t, was Nick.  And right then, despite all my rationalizations, I knew I was a goner.

***

With a glass of wine rushing to my head, I tried to tell Nick that he needed to go home.  I told him that I was mad at him for lying to me and that he was messing everything up by being here.  I told him that the things I said in those text messages had been a mistake.  But everything that I said just sounded like a joke.  My words were weak and unconvincing, and so he went right ahead and ordered me another glass.  The next thing I knew, we were taking the elevator back up to my suite, and then we were over by my bed, and then Nick was running his hands through my hair the way I always imagined he would.

In my mind this moment was years in the making and I looked into his eyes waiting for him to tell me that he too had been longing for it ever since the day we'd met.  But Nick didn't speak.  Instead he just unbuttoned my shirt.  I decided to take the initiative and whispered something similar into his ear.  I paused to allow him to say the same in return, but he still didn't say a word.  Instead he slipped my shirt down over my shoulders.  I wanted desperately for him to say that seeing me each day at the office was torture, or that he was sorry for having made me wait all these years.  But he didn't say any of those things, and with each passing minute my fantasy of what this moment would be like started to  collapse in on itself. 

That's when I noticed the red plastic Monopoly hotel laying under the nightstand and the sight of it brought everything to a screeching halt.  My cell phone started ringing from across the room and I pushed Nick away as I ran to get it.  He pulled me back and told me to ignore it.

"I can't ignore it!" I protested.  "It's probably Kendra.  It could be important." 

"More important than this?"  Nick grabbed my hand and ran it down -

“No, Nick, stop it!  This isn’t right.  I have to get the phone.”  I wrenched my arm out of his grip and grabbed the phone from my purse.  It
was
Kendra.

"Hey, what's up?" I said, breathless.

"Tessa, oh thank God.  I need you to get back here right away."  She sounded frantic, almost as if she had been crying.   "The filing deadline for Reno is tomorrow! 
Tomorrow
Tessa!  How could I have forgotten this?"  

Actually, Kendra had been forgetting a lot of things lately - deadlines, meetings, personal hygiene.  I am not saying that she stopped showering or anything, but she was losing her ability to look great no matter what had happened the night before.  Sometimes her hair looked as if she hadn’t bothered to comb it, and one day she came into the office wearing sweats.  Not even stylish sweats, just plain old Hanes.  And from time to time, I noticed the smell of alcohol on her, even if we hadn’t gone out together the night before. 

"Calm down, Ken.  I'll be right there and we'll figure it out together, ok?"  I scurried around the room collecting my items of clothing as I spoke.