Authors: Richard Paul Evans
As I was putting on my shoes, Candace stirred. “Where are you going?”
I walked over to the bed and knelt down next to her. “It’s early. I couldn’t sleep,” I said. “I thought I’d just walk around.”
“I’ll come with you,” she said.
“No, it’s too early. Go back to sleep.”
She yawned. “You sure?”
“Yeah. Just sleep.”
“Okay.” She rolled back over.
I gathered my things then walked out of the room. I took a cab to the bank the men had directed me to. The men were
parked in a car across the street in a Fiat Punto. One of the men got out of the car as I approached. He said nothing as we walked into the bank. I could see Sean in the back seat.
I hadn’t considered that the banks in America would still be closed when I went to make the transfer. I explained to the men the problem, then I waited around until nearly three in the afternoon to try again. My stomach was in knots. The process of transferring the funds took nearly an hour, and it was almost four o’clock when Sean and I got back to the hotel. Not surprisingly, Candace was frantic. She was waiting for us in the hotel lobby.
“Where have you been? I’ve been terrified that something happened to you.”
“I had some financial matters I needed to …” I said.
“No more secrets!” she shouted. “And don’t talk to me like I’m an idiot! I’ve got an M.B.A. What kind of financial matters?”
“I needed to borrow some money,” Sean said.
“What else is new? And that takes eight hours?”
“Two hundred thousand euros,” I said.
Her mouth opened in a partial gasp. “What?”
“Sean got in with some gamblers in Saint-Tropez and they followed us here.”
“They were bad dudes,” Sean said.
“They were going to kill him if he didn’t come up with the money.”
She glared at Sean, then back at me. “You should have let them,” she said. She turned and stormed back to our room.
When she was gone, I said to Sean, “We’re leaving.”
“I know where we can go next,” he said. “Dubai. I have a friend who has connections. We can get a room at the Burj-al-Arab for just twelve hundred a night for a month’s stay.”
I just looked at him. “Does any of this even faze you?”
“Any of what?”
I shook my head. “Candace is right, I should have let them have you. We’re going back to the States. I’m sick of the drama and I’m sick of being bled dry by you.”
“I’ll get you the money,” Sean said. “I told you I would. Where are you going?”
“Someplace warm.”
“My uncle lives in Vegas,” Sean said. “We can go there and I’ll get you the money.”
I really wanted to leave him. Looking back, I should have—but when someone owes you as much money as Sean did, you want to keep him close.
The Bible says that money has wings.
It doesn’t. It has rocket engines
.
Luke Crisp’s Diary
The next afternoon we flew from Rome to Atlanta to Las Vegas. I was glad to be back in the States. Candace seemed relieved as well. Now all we needed was to get my money back, then dump Sean.
I booked two regular rooms at the Bellagio and Candace and I went right to bed, waking at ten the next morning. Candace was showering when Sean knocked on our door. I put on my robe and answered.
“Good news,” he said, walking into the room with his usual grin.
“You talked to your uncle,” I said.
“No, better, man. I landed a cabana at the Rehab.”
“Rehab,” I said. “You’re finally seeing someone for your drinking problem?”
Sean laughed. “You’re an idiot. Rehab is the pool at the Hard Rock Hotel & Casino. It’s world-famous for their epic pool parties. Just think, two thousand buzzed beautiful women.”
“You’re broke,” I said. “How did you pay for it?”
“I charged it to my room.”
“You charged it to me? How much did it cost?”
“Are you even listening to me? Do you have any idea how
much schmoozing it took to get a cabana on a Friday afternoon? You should kiss my feet.”
“How much?” I repeated.
“Three grand,” he said.
“Cancel it.”
“I can’t. It’s nonrefundable. That’s how I got the deal.”
“I want my money,” I said. “You talk to your uncle today.”
“Chill, man. I’ll get it.”
I shut the door on him. Candace came out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel. “What does he want now?”
“He just rented a cabana at some place called the Rehab.”
“I’ve seen it on TV,” Candace said.
“It was three grand,” I said.
Candace said, “You’ve got to dump him.”
“Tomorrow,” I said. “He comes up with my money or he’s gone.”
“So we’re going to the Rehab? Do you mind if I do a little shopping over at the Venetian? I need a bikini.”
“No, I’ll come with you. I’ve got to get out of this place.”
After Candace had purchased a swimsuit and cover-up, we walked over to the Wynn Las Vegas. I stopped outside the Rolex shop to look at one of the watches in the display window.
“I’ve always wanted one of those,” I said to Candace, pointing at a Rolex President. I looked at the price tag. “Twenty-two thousand dollars.”
“After all you’ve given everyone else, you deserve to spend a little on yourself. Give me the card, I’ll buy it for you.”
I handed my card to her and I followed her inside. She purchased the watch and put it on my wrist. “Now you’re ready for your cabana.”
We took a cab from the Wynn to the Hard Rock Hotel. The Rehab was a massive pool lined with palm trees, cabanas and bikinis. There was probably as much alcohol as water. We were led to our cabana. Sean was already there and, judging by the glasses on the table, well on his way to getting drunk.
I was greeted by a pretty, bikini-clad server. “Hello, Mr. Crisp,” she said. “I’m Dot. I’m your cabana girl today. We’ve already opened a tab for you, may I get you started on some drinks?”
Sean said, “Bring me a Tequila Sunrise.”
“I’ll have a scotch,” I said. “Make it a double.”
“I’ll have a piña colada,” Candace said.
“I’ll be right back,” she said. As she walked away, I asked Sean, “Did you call your uncle?”
He grimaced. “Don’t ruin it. I told you I would.”
Candace and I sat back in our chairs while Sean roamed the pool like a reef shark. A short time later he returned with a half dozen girls, two of them clinging to his arms.
“Lookie what Daddy brought home,” he said.
“Par-teeeee,” one of the girls said.
“Hey, girls,” Sean said. “This is Luke, your host and benefactor.”
One of the girls, a short, overly tanned woman in a bright orange bikini, sidled up to me. “Hello, Luke. I’m Sam.”
Candace took my arm. “And I’m Candace. He’s taken.”
“You sure?” she said to me, avoiding Candace’s glare.
“I’m sure,” I said.
Her smile never left. “Whatever.” She went back to Sean.
I spent the afternoon watching the women drink my money. Sean kept disappearing with different women.
Last day
, I kept telling myself.
By late afternoon, Candace decided that she’d had enough sun—or drunk girls—likely both. “I’m going back to the room,” she said.
I had had enough myself. “Me too,” I said. “I’ll meet you back there. I need to find Dot and close out the tab.”
A few minutes later Dot came by to check on us. “Mr. Crisp, can I get you anything?”
“No, I’m fine,” I said. Actually, I was furious. I had just watched Sean water a plant with a $100 bottle of wine. As I looked at him, I realized just how much I hated him—and myself for letting him use me.
“I’m ready to close out my bill,” I said. “Just put everything on my card.”
“I’ll be right back,” she said.
Less than five minutes later Dot returned. “Mr. Crisp, we have a little problem.”
“A problem?”
“Your card was declined.”
“Declined?” I said. “That’s impossible, it’s a debit card.”
She shrugged.
“How much is our bill anyway?”
“Nine thousand eight hundred fifty-five dollars.”
“Almost ten grand?”
“I can provide you with an itemized receipt. Your friends have been drinking a lot.”
“My card still shouldn’t have been declined. Can you try it again?”
“It can’t hurt.” She returned a moment later looking upset. I noticed that a security guard had followed her back.