Love Deluxe (15 page)

“I’m not at all finished for the evening Nathan, but please accept this for now, for helping me,” I handed him two hundred dollars as I sat down at my machine.

“Ma’am, may I make a suggestion?”

“Please, anything.”

“It’s almost midnight,” he lowered his voice, fiddled with the machine. “If you’re willing to risk a bit more there’s a twenty five dollar machine you might want to try.” He leaned down as if he was checking points on the little welcome screen and quietly said, “I have guests who will only gamble at midnight.”

I was shocked, John said to ask for tips and here was one freely given.

I stood and said, “You know, I’d like to try my hand at a different machine, it’s getting late and I want to throw caution to the wind before I call it a night.”

I moved to the machine he lingered in front of and made myself comfortable; he placed his hand on my shoulder and said good luck. Since it would mean fifty dollars per spin of the reel I fed my entire winnings into it at once, took a deep breath, started to say a prayer— wasn’t sure if God blessed gambling and hit the max bet button. The bow tie appeared immediately and I felt a huge rush of adrenaline. The first offer was seven hundred fifty dollars, I turned to look at Nathan who was lurking nearby but his face was blank. I hit again, one thousand five hundred, I wasn’t sure whether to take it but I didn’t want to keep looking to Nathan and he was silent. I hit again, nine hundred dollars, my heart sank. I didn’t even look away, I hit the final offer, “Two thousand five hundred fifty dollars. Boy, you’re a winner!” I turned to him beaming, ready to jump up and hug him but he tilted his head toward the machine and ran his hand across his watch.

“Don’t you have to pay before I go on?”

“Not on this denomination unless you’re ready to stop.”

“Oh, no, not at all,” I said, and hit that wonderful max-bet button like a pro. I hit the button five or six times and began to get scared,
fifty dollars a shot, that’s not peanuts
, seven, eight, nine, and there it was, my new love. I turned to look at Nathan and he smiled pleasantly.

The first offer was one thousand seven hundred dollars, I nearly jumped out of my chair with excitement but I heard him clear his throat slightly so I tried the second offer. Two thousand four hundred, I could barely contain myself as he moved away revealing nothing. I gathered my courage, wanting to take the offer.
Shit shit shit!
I thought, and hoped the third offer might be a little better. I hit the button and so many bills begin to light up it was almost blinding.

“Six thousand seven hundred fifty dollars!” the synthesized voice said happily, “Times two, thirteen thousand five hundred dollars!” My mouth went dry, I was going to pass out, my heart pounded in my throat but it wasn’t nearly over, “Times two, twenty seven thousand dollars!”

I jumped out of my chair and screamed like I didn’t have good sense. Nathan walked over quickly and told me that this was my third offer, I had to hit one more button, ‘accept offer’ or ‘try again’. I gasped, afraid the money would disappear, I hit the ‘accept offer’ button about a dozen times and the machine said, “Boy, you’re a winner!” I stared at the screen,
twenty seven thousand dollars
, just like that. I wanted to hug Nathan but he was already gone. I jumped around and laughed like a fool, I hugged the cocktail server who’d come to take a look, I hugged the woman with all the jewelry who was smiling broadly, I hugged the machine. My heart was pounding so hard you could see the front of my blouse move and a crowd of people began to gather and congratulate me.

Nathan reappeared with another host and a guard, the new host opened the machine and jotted something down. Nathan congratulated me, nonchalant as can be and said they would verify the win and return shortly. I fumbled in my purse for my cell phone and spilled half its contents on the floor. The server helped me gather everything back into my purse and handed me my phone. I tried calling John, no answer. Someone suggested I let them take my picture with the machine showing my big win. I handed them my cell phone and hugged good ‘ol
Top Dollar
with a smile that wouldn’t quit.

I excused myself to the restroom and sat cross-legged on the cool floor before I fainted. I felt around in my purse for the bottle of Xanax and took two. I stood in front of the sink and ran water in my hands, drank from the faucet and then wet a hand towel and dabbed my face, neck and chest. I looked at myself in the mirror and I was grinning like the village idiot, I couldn’t believe what just happened.

I returned to my chair, leaned back, crossed my legs and tried to act normal as Nathan counted the money into my hands. I looked at it, smelled the brand new bills, and then jumped up and down squealing again. I had to find John and show him; let him see what I’d won. I went back into the restroom, counted out three thousand dollars and folded the bills as small as I could manage. John said it wasn’t necessary to tip a slot host more than a hundred dollars since they don’t deal cards or handle dice or chips, but in my book, Nathan deserved ten percent at least. I thanked him for his help, shook his hand and gave him the folded bills.

“Which hotel will you be staying in, Ms. Stuart?” he asked cool as could be.

“I’m not sure,” I told him. “My husband is playing craps, he said someone would arrange for a room.”

He picked up a phone, “His name, please, your husband?”

“Oh. John Foster.”

He spoke into the phone for a few minutes, hung up and seemed pleased, “We have you booked at the
Lowes
just across the street, I know you’ll be very comfortable there. Now, let me get you set up with some spa treatments for tomorrow and perhaps the salon, if you like?”

“We’re going on to Florida tomorrow,” I said hesitantly, not sure I’d had quite enough of
Top Dollar.

“Well, let me write out comp slips for both the spa and the salon, use them if you wish and I’ll be here tomorrow at six should you choose to stay.”

He handed the papers to me with a smile and said, “I look forward to seeing you again, Ms. Stuart, and don’t forget to use your players card.”

I wandered out into the brightly colored, noisy casino with my purse held close to my body to protect my winnings. I was giddy with excitement and I needed to find John and tell him what a slot wizard I’d become. It was one in the morning, I was starving and I seemed to be circling and weaving through a great labyrinth when I found a row of craps tables. My husband was easy to spot at a far table, his blond head above the others. I hurried toward him with a smile that wouldn’t quit; he looked up and motioned for me to join him.

“Come to daddy, come on baby!” I thought he was talking to me but as I rubbed against him he wrapped one arm around me without taking his eyes off the table and shouted “Yes!” as the dice landed. He scooped up some chips, lined them up in front of him and moved some others around on the craps table.

Then he hugged me to him and said, “Man, I’ve been missing my sweetie. How ya doing, up or down?”

I kissed him full on the mouth and moved back so he could see the nonstop smile on my face.

“Hey, somebody looks like the cat that ate the canary, tell me.”

“I don’t like Black Jack but I won seven hundred dollars,” I said.

“Good girl, that’s a great start, I knew my baby was a winner. We’ll find a game you like.”

“I did,” I said, the words tumbling out, “slots, oh my God, I love slots and I did well, John, really, really well!”

“That’s my girl,” he said, distracted by the craps game.

“John, it’s after one in the morning, I’m hungry and tired and I need a bath. Can you come with me to check into the hotel and we’ll order some room service; I want to tell you something.

He was barely listening, counting his chips, talking to the men at the table.

“Just get me a room key if you’re not interested,” I said, irritated.

“No, sweetie, hang on, I’m cashing out. I’m coming with you don’t leave, hold on a second.”

We walked to what he called the ‘cage’ and he cashed in his chips, folded the money into his pocket. I was dying to tell him about my win but I wanted his full attention.

“How’d you do?” I asked.

“I’m down some, if you don’t care I want to come back after I get you settled. I wanna try to catch up and hopefully get ahead. To win big I gamble all night sometimes, are you okay with that?” he asked, his mind still on the game.

“Sure,” I said, “I could’ve stayed at the slot machines all night but I decided to quit while I was ahead.”

“Well, that’s good, buddy, so seven hundred at the tables, how’d it go with the slots?”

We were outside, crossing the street to the hotel, he was telling me we’d check in, order food in the room then he’d go get the car and have our bags sent up.

I stopped him at the door to the hotel and the words tumble out, “I found a machine that I love, a host gave me a tip, it had a bonus round and I won twenty seven thousand dollars!”

“Holy shit. Thousand, not hundred, are you kidding me?”

“Nope.” I opened my purse and showed him the stack of hundreds. He threw his head back and yelled, “Catey, queen of slots, I always knew you had the Midas touch, woohoo!” 

We hugged, kissed, laughed and did it all over again.

In the room I dumped my purse out on the bed, I still had a ton of the chips he’d given me and a big pile of money that I won all by myself.

He counted the chips and bills and said with total awe, “You won nearly thirty thousand dollars. Did they take the taxes out?”

“Yep and I tipped like a good girl. Wow, I have that much leftover? Yikes!”

I told him about the slot host and how while I was playing the first machine he mentioned that a certain twenty-five dollar machine was a favorite at midnight. So I played it and the next thing I knew the machine was saying this many dollars, times two, times two and it added up to twenty-seven thousand. Plus I hit several smaller bonuses before that on both machines so I discreetly tipped him three thousand dollars and he wrote me out some comps for the spa and hair salon and told me if we stayed he’d be there again tomorrow at six.

I lay on the bed, out of breath from the telling of my tale, John walked to the window and opened the drapes. There was a spectacular view of the Mississippi River.

“Three thousand, that’s a big tip but it sounds like he’s willing to play so that’s good, you did great, buddy, welcome to gambling and you liked it?”

“Damn right,” I said and dialed room service. I ordered food knowing John would want steak but it was New Orleans so I asked for boiled shrimp, gumbo, etouffee, jambalaya, French bread and cold white wine.

“Champagne,” John said and I ordered Veuve Clicquot, “Done!” I told him.

Chapter Eleven

In the morning I curled up in a chaise lounge by the window and watched tug boats move slowly along the river. John hadn’t returned from the casino and as I was sipping a Diet Coke he staggered in looking like walking death. He shucked off his clothes, threw several stacks of hundred dollar bills on the side table and was asleep as soon as he hit the bed.

I leaned over him, tugged his hair, kissed his face, he smelled of alcohol, “How’d you do buddy, looks like you won?”

“Later,” he mumbled and pulled the covers over his head.

I took the comp slips out of my purse and read them; they were each good for a full day of services of my choice at the spa and the hair salon. I carried the guest services book to the chaise by the window and leafed through it.

I scanned the list of services for the spa and picked up the phone to dial, immediately a woman’s voice said, “Concierge, how may I assist you this morning Mr. Foster?”

“This is
Mrs.
Foster,” I said, “Mrs. Stuart, actually, I don’t use my new name, anyway I have some comp slips or whatever they’re called and I’d like to make a few appointments, please.”

“Certainly,” she said, “what are your preferences and I will arrange them right away.”

Wow, I was kind of digging the royal treatment I decided. So I ran my finger down the spa menu and rattled off, “Aroma therapy massage, cleansing and anti-aging facial, skin silkening exfoliation and body wrap, mani/pedi, haircut and style.”

“Excellent,” she said, she would set them up and call me back in twenty minutes with appointment times.

Excellent is right
, I thought, I’d never known a day in my life when I couldn’t afford to pay for just about anything my little heart desired, but there was something undue and decadent about this entire experience. It was like sex with John Foster, an excess of pleasure and over indulgence, like stealing as a teenager just for the thrill of it, then taking the illicit object out to gloat over time and again, reveling in the unconscionable act.

The phone rang exactly twenty minutes later, the Concierge asked if I could possibly arrive at the spa on the second floor in an hour for my full day of pampering. I told her I could certainly manage that. She’d taken the liberty of ordering a sampling of gourmet treats to be served throughout the day as well as my preferred champagne which room service made her aware of. I thanked her and hung up thinking,
Damn, that woman is a modern day Stepford Wife
.

By the time I teetered in to my last appointment of the day, the hair cut, I was so mellow from such relentless pampering I must have appeared almost addle-brained.  I was feeling nothing but good. The stylist was an angel faced, thin as paper, caramel-skinned girl who couldn’t have been more than twelve years old.

She laughed when I told her that and said, “Girl, what’ve they been serving you to drink in there cuz I’ll take a glass? I’ve seen thirty come and go and that’s been more than a few years ago.” She fanned my hair out on my shoulders and said, “You got ya some nice hair, look at it, it shines like new money, you don’t color it do ya? But I don’t see no greys, yeah, money can’t buy this color. Whatcha wanna do? Update this cut I say, leave the length, just work in some long layers and cut this front here to chin length so it falls to the side and across the brow, sexy like, um-huh.”

“Go for it,” I told her. “Make me irresistible.”

She washed my hair herself, talking nonstop and honestly I could have listen to her forever, there was something soothing, melodic about her way of speaking. In a different place on another day I would probably have told her anything and everything about my life. But I closed my eyes and my mouth, felt the champagne in my veins and her voice in my ear and let her work her special brand of magic. She talked, cut, snipped, razored, and then turned the chair so that I couldn’t see the mirror when she finished.

“I’m gonna dry your hair this way,” she said, “and when I turn this chair around you’re gonna think you see a movie star.” She hummed as she dried and brushed, used a flatiron here and there, spritzed a little hairspray and said to herself, “Yes ma’am, that’s it alright.” She turned me to face the mirror and I sat speechless, my hair was long, sleek, and glossy. I looked like a shampoo ad, I ran my fingers through the ends and it felt like silk.

“You, my dear, are a genius!”

“Awe, go on, you’re just beautiful anyway,” she said and grinned.

I gave her an excellent tip and a hug and went to the hotel room to dress.

It was nearly seven when I slipped out of my sweatpants and t-shirt, my skin, nails and hair were perfection, I just needed some makeup and a decent outfit and I could get over to the casino. The drapes were still open and the river flowed in the distance, very Southern and nostalgic, green and wide under the low, afternoon sun. The bathroom, which was spacious and state of the art looked like a hurricane had blown through. Obviously John had showered, used a half dozen towels, let them fall wherever, tried on and discarded several items of clothing and left the rejects scattered about. I was surprised he didn’t stop in and say hi to me at the Spa, I’d left a note letting him know where I would be.
Oh well, big daddy
, I thought, my mind still somewhat champagne soaked, better check on me tonight, ‘cause I could turn a few heads. I applied a light foundation, just to even out my skin and added a rosy cheek stain, curled my eyelashes and added jet black mascara. A touch of hot pink lipstick applied with my finger to keep it soft, a spritz of perfume and that was that.

During the day the Stepford Concierge has unpacked our suitcases and arranged things in the closet so perfectly that I feared she might one day become a serial killer. I chose an outfit that I bought on a whim the year before at the
Chanel
sale event at
Saks.
Emily called it my secret weapon outfit, she swore no man could resist me in it—
yeah, right
. It was chic and very sexy and I’d lost a few pounds in the last month but it still looked good. The top was a silver, long sleeved mesh pullover with a blue silk camisole underneath and the bottoms, well they were the size of a small pair of men’s whitey-tightey under wear. Shorts, very, very short silver cashmere shorts, worn with satin, bejeweled Jimmy Choo pumps. A dangly pair of earrings, my wedding ring and I was set. I looked in the full length mirror and stared, my legs went on for days, was that really me?
Sweet Jesus
,
I should dress up more often
. I changed to an evening purse and was about to leave when I spied a stack of yellow chips and a note on the table.

“Cash these in and find me ASAP, I’m missing my sweetie! Love you, John.”

I filled my purse with the chips and walked out the door.

There were more than a few appreciative glances as I made my way through the casino. I surveyed the craps tables and could see John concentrating hard on the roll of the dice. I made a spot for myself at the far end of the table and waited to see how long it would take for him to notice me. An older man standing next to me wearing about a half bottle of rancid cologne began making small talk, he said he was from Puerto Rico, I would bring him good luck, he wanted to buy me dinner and so on.

I ignored him until he bluntly said, “I’ll give you five hundred dollars to come to my room with me.”

I turned to him with a smile and said, “I’m sorry, five hundred dollars wouldn’t get me past the gift shop,” and his look of indignation made me want to laugh loud and long.

When John finally noticed me his face was blank, then surprised, then astonished. He said something to the dealer who placed a cover over his chips and he was at my side in a second. He looked me over from head to toe, then gave the Puerto Rican a dirty look and pulled me into the aisle.

“Christ, buddy you look ice cold! I mean— untouchable, like a rock star wife.”

I laughed and pressed myself against him, he already had an erection.

“Always happy to please you,” I said, looking up at him with a sly smile.

“Let’s go the room,” he said, “let me grab my chips.”

“No, no, no! I just got here, I’m all dressed up, I wanna gamble.”

He looked crestfallen at first so I wrapped his arms around me and placed his hands on my butt.

“I’m always ready for you and I’m always yours alone, but we have plenty of time to spend with each other so let’s make some easy money tonight.”

“I need my sweetie, but since you’re stupid doctor said you’re grounded and can’t go all the way, I guess I can wait.”

I rolled my eyes and said, “You are seriously stuck in eighth grade!”

Nathan looked up when I walked into the high limit room, raised an eyebrow in approval. “You look lovely this evening Ms. Stuart, glad you were able to stay another night.”

I felt myself blush as he lingered a moment too long on my legs and was embarrassed as I realized he was really quite young, not more than twenty-six or seven.

“I hope you were able to take advantage of some of the spa services?”

“They were heaven sent, look at my hair!” I ran my hand through it, still amazed, “I feel like a teenager.”

“You look stunning,” he smiled. Then, blushing a little himself, asked, “Will you be playing the same machines this evening, I’ll be happy to set up a line of credit if you like.”

“No credit,” I said, “I have chips that I’d like to convert to cash and that should be enough for the evening.” I reached into my purse a few times, made several stacks of chips on the counter and couldn’t manage to look him in the eye.

He counted them unceremoniously, motioned for another slot host, said, “Changing forty thousand.” He scooped the chips from the counter and replaced them with four bundles of bills marked ten thousand each while the second host watched. “Ms. Stuart, I can offer you a personal lock box if you would prefer not to carry this much cash.”

I nodded, speechless that I’d been walking around with that much money in my purse. He filled out a slip of paper, handed it to me to sign. I put one stack of bills in my purse and pushed the other three toward him. He noted the amount, asked me to initial and handed me a key.

“Good luck, Ms. Stuart, I’ll send someone over for your drink order.”

I fought the urge to go immediately to last night’s big win machine. I surveyed the room feeling a little lost, itching to start all the bells and whistles ringing again but not wanting to lose any of the money I’d won. I started on the five dollar machine, got absolutely giddy every time the magic bow tie appeared, sipped bottled water and racked up several modest wins.
Modest
, I thought and wanted to laugh; twenty-four hours ago I was ecstatic over a few hundred dollars. Then I hit the big one, now I wondered if any future win would ever compare. Nathan appeared and asked how I was doing, that perhaps I’d like to take some time to sample the buffet in the lounge area. I caught myself dissecting this sentence for any hint of a tip and I finally said, “Yes, I’d like that.”

It was a sumptuous buffet, but my body didn’t want to eat, it wanted to gamble. I carried a plate of fruit and a glass of champagne and situated myself on a sofa. I finished the champagne in a few gulps hoping to quiet the blood zinging through my veins. I refilled my glass and when I returned to the sofa a tall, handsome man, probably in his mid to late forties was sitting at one end. We smiled at each other hesitantly and I sat down, reached for my fruit plate and he said he hoped he hadn’t taken my seat.

“No, not at all,” I told him.

“So, you’ve got the slots bug, too?” He asked and when he smiled it changed his face from merely attractive to unabashedly sexy. 

“I just played for the first time last night, I had a big win and now I’m hooked,” I said and looked down at my plate as I felt myself blush.

He shook his head and said, “That first one is the killer; you’ll chase that feeling from now on.”

I agreed and I knew in some logical part of my mind that this was true. We sat together and lapsed into easy conversation, exchanging bits and pieces of our stories— He was in New Orleans on his boat, he lived in Destin, Florida, and was originally from Alabama. He’d been divorced for a year and had two grown sons, both involved in his restaurant business. I studied him while he talked, he was broad-shouldered, powerfully muscled and handsome in a way that suggested he’d been a star football player in high school or college. His manner of speech reminded me of Henry, the deep, masculine voice and slow, precise wording, and I liked him, was drawn to him for that, especially. Listening to him calmed my buzzing nerves. He said he’d docked his boat in Biloxi last night and played at the
Beau Rivage Casino
, that I should stop there on my way to Seaside, he could make a call and have his casino host meet me. He was going on to Galveston tomorrow and handed me a business card with his name and a picture of an enormous boat and his phone number.

“Sam McKay,” he said as I took the card and a spark passed between us as when our fingers touched.

“I’m Cate, Cate Stuart,” I said at the exact moment Nathan arrived.

“Ms. Stuart, Mr. McKay, how are we doing here?”

“Enjoying myself but I bet Cate’s as ready as I am to get back to those demon machines.”