Red Flags (30 page)

There was a light knock on the door, and
Jason and Hunter were standing on the other side, looking handsome
as ever. Jason was in dark wash jeans, a button up black shirt, and
a fresh new pair of black Sperry’s. His tousled hair looked like he
had done nothing but run his hands, with a slight pinch of gel
through it. He looked delicious, and if Hunter and Chelsea were not
standing right there, I would have gone for round two.

The ride in the elevator to the lobby was
filled with smooth caressing and laughter. By the looks of things,
Hunter and Chelsea spent their afternoon much of the way that Jason
and I spent ours. I appreciated the good sex session because it
seemed to have lifted the moods of all of us. Stepping down into
the lobby, I saw Ryan dressed to the nines. He looked so handsome.
His blond hair perfectly scattered about his head. Mila looked like
a sex kitten in a tight, all black mini dress, paired with, at the
least, four inch heels. Her long black hair was curled ever so
slightly at the ends. I’d admit, she looked hot, and they looked
amazing together.

The line for Coyote Ugly was a mile long and
the bar was packed. Jason walked up to the front, showed the guy an
ID and gave him some secret guys only handshake. The guy patted him
on the back and waved us all in -- the perks of being Mr. Jason
Bradley. We walked in to a dark, bar with metal scraps and quirky
bar signs strewn about the walls, a bar full of half-naked women
dancing on it, with a large American flag as the backdrop. The
musical theme was Top 40, so there was an eclectic mix of music
blaring from the speakers. Jason whispered in my ear that he was
going to the bar for drinks, and Ryan and Hunter followed him. Mila
and I still hadn’t spoken since the events that transpired the day
before, but we pretended that all was well and just decided to have
a good time. As we are dancing together, we saw the guys at the bar
throwing back shots. Ryan limited himself; thankfully, since he was
our driver, but Hunter and Jason seemed to be engaged in a shot
taking competition. A few minutes later, they came back with drinks
for us. We drank, danced, and laughed. The bar patrons started
screaming for girls to go on the bar and Mila wasted no time
pulling Chelsea and me up front and center.

I was having a terribly hard time getting
comfortable on the bar, with scantily clad women, and overly
intoxicated men. Jason was standing down in front of me, with a
smirk on his face, drinking a glass of whiskey. A tall thin
Hispanic guy came barging his way to the bar, making contact with
Jason on the way. He stopped just short of me, and started
whistling. He looked back and forth between me and Chelsea, but
started prodding me to move and shake it. Jason glared at him, but
didn’t make a move. The guy was obviously drunk, and as long he
didn’t get too close, Jason wouldn’t kill him.

The guy backed up a bit and sipped on a beer. His
eyes were low and displayed nothing but pure sinister lust. I
turned my gaze away from him for fear of misinterpretation on his
part. Chelsea was grinding her body against, me, prompting me to
grind mine back against her. Jason liked what he saw, and the
whistling and clapping coming from him grew louder and louder. I
could only assume that Jason’s cheering emboldened, or invited the
guy back because he made his way back to the bar, this time
grabbing and my leg. I screamed at him, and kicked to try and get
him off, but he tightened his grab, and slurred, “come on baby.”
Chelsea tried to pull me away when Jason shoved his drink into
Hunter’s chest and grabbed the guy by his back collar.

"Get the fuck off my girl or I’m gonna put ya ass out
for the night,” Jason yelled, louder than the music and the rest of
the rowdy crowd. The guy stumbled onto him, but got up and yelled,
“Fuck off man, that’s a nice piece of ass up there.” Jason was sent
into a fury and started pummeling the guy’s face. I jumped off the
bar, Chelsea following close behind, and rushed over to where the
bar patrons had circled around Jason. Two bouncers jumped into the
middle and pulled Jason off of the guy. He was red, had a large
scratch above his left eye, but was otherwise being fueled by
adrenaline and fury. The guy came up holding his eye, which was now
all but shut, and had blood dripping from his face.

Jason and the guy were each taken by one of
the bouncers into different rooms. Chelsea and Hunter followed me
in the direction that Jason was pulled to, and in a panic, I
wondered what sort of trouble Jason was going to get into. Luckily,
they were just talking him out of his fit of rage, and I couldn’t
help but wonder if the guy knew him, because there was no talk of
him being banned, or in any sort of trouble. On the contrary, as
Jason gave his account of what happened, the bouncer turned to me
and asked if I would like to press charges. I calmly answered no,
as my only thought was to get Jason as far away from Coyote Ugly as
possible. He looked at me, with an angry look of displeasure and
abruptly stood up. He shook the bouncer’s hand, then grabbed mine
and led me out of the bar.

Hunter went back into the bar area to let
Ryan and Mila know what had happened since they were on the other
end of the bar by the time all of this transpired. Jason led me
upstairs, and out onto the catwalk that led to the MGM Grand. I was
being dragged over the catwalk, in Chelsea’s oversized heels so I
resisted the pull of Jason causing him to stop. He turned,
breathing hard, eyes blaring into mine. I sighed and ran my hands
through my hair.

“What is wrong with you? I’m fine, you’re
fine, and no one is in trouble…”

He started to speak but stopped himself. I
looked around to see the busy Las Vegas strip still bustling with
people who looked happy, drunk, and carefree. No one was even
paying attention to yet another one our spats. I looked to him for
an answer, and he pulled me close to him.

He puts his hands on my thigh, then gruffly
stated, “this is what’s wrong… this. Clothes would be a good thing
Cara. That guy was commenting on your ass, and I can see why.”

I was shocked by his comment because he said
nothing about what I was wearing when he saw me at the hotel. I hit
his hand off of my thigh and yelled back, “don’t you dare blame me.
I did nothing wrong here, I didn’t even want to be on that damn
bar.”

He looked at me and simply shook his head,
saying nothing. His cell phone buzzed and he took it out and
silenced it. My phone started buzzing and I pulled it out of my
back pocket to see Chelsea calling. Jason shook his head and I shut
it off. His phone buzzed again, and I reached for it to see Mila
calling. He answered the call and while I couldn’t hear what she
was saying, I heard her high pitched, startled shrieks blaring
through the phone. Jason’s eyes got big, and he ran his fingers
over his mouth, yelling “shit” while doing so. I motioned with my
hands asking what was wrong, but he just shook his head and
continued listening to Mila’s high pitched storytelling. He hung up
the phone and looked at me.

“Who called you?”

“Chelsea. Why? Why was Mila calling? What was
that about?” I spouted out question after question, in a desperate
attempt to find out what had him so rattled.

“Mila called to tell me that some fucks in
there got me on video.”

“Okay! And?” Not understanding why he was
shocked, when smartphones were in almost everyone’s possession
these days.

“AND?” He yelled, “that shit’s all over the
internet and my name is plastered to it. Do you know what this
means Cara?”

“No Jason, I don’t. What does it mean?”

“It means if this shit gets back to my
parents, my Dad is going to roast my ass. It’s bad for business.”
The other four came walking down the catwalk to where we were, not
sure how to approach the two of us. Chelsea put her arm around my
shoulder, while Mila ran up to show Jason the video. He watched
with a pained look on his face. “Fuck me. My dad is going to have
my ass,” he muttered, and started walking down the catwalk. I
refused to go after him. He blamed me for his outrageous outburst,
when the simple fact of the matter was that he has little to no
self-control. Ryan decided to be the brave soul who scrambled after
him, partly because he was our driver and knew that he couldn’t
leave without him, but also because Ryan was calm, and on the same
level as Jason.

Another half hour passed before they showed
back up. Jason looked visibly calmer, while Ryan looked relieved.
The rest of us stood on the catwalk, hopeful that our night had not
been completely ruined. Jason took my hand and led the group across
the catwalk into the MGM casino. He claimed to be feeling lucky and
wanted to try his hand at Roulette. I kindly reminded him that
Roulette had the worst odds in the house, and the smile that I got
in return told me that he was just fine blowing money right now. He
wanted to be reckless and carefree because he figured whatever the
blowback might be from the video was going to be pretty bad.

We found an empty Roulette table and Jason
flagged down a cocktail waitress. Before trading in $500 for chips,
he ordered all of the guys Whiskey Sours, allowed Chelsea and Mila
to order for themselves, but got me a straight cranberry juice. He
winked at me and reminded me that he hated when I drank and, I
should be the sober one for the two of us in case he got out of
control. Might be too late.

After about 20 minutes and almost $500 later,
Jason had done nothing but get more intoxicated, and lose money.
Ryan and Hunter finally joined and had actually won a little, which
bolstered Jason because in his drunken state, he saw their winnings
as a challenge. He traded in another $500 and decided to lay all of
it out on zero. I swooped in to be the sober one between us to make
sure he was aware of the lunacy that he was engaging in. He kissed
my hand and set his deal, and the dealer closed out all bets and
turned the wheel. I closed my eyes, afraid of the outcome and
unable to fathom placing $500 on such frivolous activity. The
Roulette wheel looked like it was moving at the speed of snail. My
mind couldn’t wrap itself around the fact that Jason was about to
lose a car payment’s worth of money on something that took him no
brain cells and three seconds to decide to do. I heard the wheel
beginning to slow, and breaking me from my reverie was a loud
chorus of hooting and hollering. Chelsea screamed at the top of her
lungs, and Mila was jumping up and down like a cheerleader. Jason
slammed his fists onto the table, and high fived Hunter and Ryan as
he yelled, "FUCK YEAH!” I looked at the Roulette wheel to see that
the ball had landed on zero. In all actuality, there was a less
than 3% chance that he would actually win, and with a $500 bet, he
stood to make over $17,000.

I couldn’t believe my eyes and the
atmosphere, while jubilant and carefree, still felt completely
unreal to me. I was not sharing in the celebration. Jason caught my
mood and walked over to me, kissing me roughly with his whiskey
filled breath, and took me in his arms. “Why so sad gorgeous? I
just won you a shit brick ton of money.” What? Just won me money?
The words made no sense to me. I didn’t ask him to do this. In
fact, if I had my way, he would have never wasted that money, and
we would have enjoyed some light and friendly gambling mixed with a
few drinks. He may have won the money, but it was stupid and
thoughtless.

“Jason, you didn’t win me any money, that’s
yours,” I reiterated. He needed to know that I in no way expected
him to win money for me.

He leaned down to my ear, nibbling on it
seductively, and lightly whispered, “Gorgeous, I went ballistic on
you for no good reason. I acted like a king prick, and I want to
make it up to you.” I smiled, and decided that another time to
fight my case would better than now. He was happy and celebratory,
and the group was finally having a good time, so I wasn’t going to
be the one to trample on everyone’s happiness. I told myself that I
would argue my case when we are alone and he had time to sober up,
and come down from his jubilant high.

Jason cashed out and did all of the necessary
paperwork to take his winnings. He was feeling so good that he took
us all to the Craftsteak restaurant and orders an almost $3,000
bottle of Moët et Chandon, Brut, Dom Pérignon OEnothèque, 1966,
Épernay. I could barely pronounce any of what he had ordered, but I
knew it sounded overly expensive. The waiter brought out glasses
and the bottles of champagne and poured us all a round. Mila and
Chelsea looked like they’d just hit the lottery. I felt sick that
he was throwing money to the wind all because of some lucky bet.
Just like before, I stuffed my reservations to the back of my mind,
and allowed myself to partake in the festivities of Jason’s
winnings.

We drank, talked, laughed, and drank some
more. Jason was overly affectionate -- to the point of slurring his
words while trying to turn me on. He paid the bill and Ryan ran
across the catwalk to get the car. In the car, Jason drummed on the
roof, sang obnoxiously loud, and tickled Mila’s neck from behind
her seat. That little act completely annoyed me, but he was so
happy, I just didn’t say anything.

Walking back into our hotel, Jason pompously
strolled to the check-in desk as everyone else walked to the
elevators. We all stopped, and he signaled for me to come with him
and sent everyone else on their way. He asked and paid for the
Executive Suite and for our bags to be transferred from our old
rooms to the suite. He gathered me up in his arms, and I squealed
as he steadied himself. We stumbled to the elevator and once
inside, he stood me up and kissed me long, deep, and with
astronomical amounts of passion. “I have a surprise for you
tomorrow,” he said, trying to catch his breath.

“What is it?” I asked, knowing full well that
he wouldn’t tell me.