Win Win
Las Vegas tended to screw with your circadian rhythms. The past few days had been worse than most in that regard—and I’d thought there was no way I could top the time I spent three whole days and nights in the underground portion of one of the casinos with the fake cloud-dotted blue sky, progressively losing my grip on reality until I found myself staring up at the “sky,” waiting for sunset. The Morrigan’s casino host finally came to retrieve me. Not my finest moment.
But I woke up the morning after “dinner” with Declan, finally, at a relatively normal time: right about dawn, with rosy-gold rays spearing in through my window and the outside world looking like a real place, for once. I could even catch a glimpse of actual desert in the distance.
It made me long, bone-deep, for a convertible, a pair of sunglasses, and nowhere in particular to be.
Unfortunately I only had two out of three, and I doubted Declan would loan me a car.
Stealing a car might not help my current situation.
I still thought about it for a minute.
When I ventured out of my room and glanced down the hall, Declan’s bedroom door stood open. He’d already gone out, then; if he’d been in there with the door open, I’d have heard his breathing.
The rest of the suite was empty too. Even the dishes from last night had all been cleared away. I’d always been a heavy sleeper, but even so…had Declan hired a team of fairies for his housekeeping staff?
There was something on the kitchen countertop, though—and my breath caught when I recognized my watch sitting next to a phone and a sheet of paper.
I read the note while I fastened the watch around my wrist.
Blake—
This isn’t your phone. Obviously. It has my number, Steve Franklin’s number, and the line for the hotel concierge in it. Don’t call any of us unless you need to. You can leave the suite, but stay in the Morrigan and be back by six. Don’t try to gamble on credit and don’t cause any trouble. You can charge reasonable amounts of food and drinks to the room anywhere in the casino or hotel. Don’t test me on “reasonable.”
D.M.
When I picked up the note, I found a keycard and a hundred dollar bill underneath it, and an examination of the phone showed me a basic smartphone model, out of date but functional. Declan hadn’t disabled the internet or anything. I blew out a sigh of relief. Thank fucking gods, something to occupy my time. I could scroll the news and I could hang around downstairs, eating and drinking “reasonable” amounts. And the hundred bucks would keep me busy with penny slots—and I couldn’t believe I’d sunk that low, but here we were—for a few hours if I wanted. Compared to sitting in my room going crazy and brooding over Declan and my family and my lack of anything resembling a plan for the future, it felt like overwhelming freedom.
What a difference a few days made.
Don’t try to gamble on creditandDon’t test me on “reasonable”had me shaking my head, though. What did he think I’d do, take over a high-stakes poker table and order every bottle of top-shelf liquor in the joint?
Not that he didn’t have a point there. A few days ago, I would have.
I ran my fingers over the face of my watch, now the only really beautiful thing I owned. Why hadn’t he sold it to cover my bar tab from when I’d arrived at the Morrigan? Whatever jabs he’d made about its value, it was worth at least ten grand even if he didn’t bother trying to get the maximum for it.
The watch. The cheesecake. The…I was trying really hard not to think of the money as a kept man’s allowance or a tip you’d leave a hooker. Giving me a measure of freedom, even if only very limited in scope.
Were his occasional gestures of kindness meant to torture me more, to keep me on my toes and unable to predict what his next move would be? Or were they, as I’d speculated last night, glimpses of his actual personality shining through the cracks in his determination to punish me as much as possible? Should I try to use it against him?
Well, for one thing, I was pretty sure it wouldn’t work.
And for another…I traced the shiny face of the watch again.
For another, I didn’t think I wanted to.
I crumpled up the note and dropped it in the trash, put the money and the keycard in my pocket, and left the suite. I could find a “reasonable” amount of breakfast downstairs and try to get out of my head a little bit.
Because at the moment, my head wasn’t a place I wanted to be.
Maybe it never had been.
Ugh.
I let the door slam behind me on the way out.
***
