Vegas Sunrise (4 page)

Celia's head bobbed up and down. “Are you saying you want me to be like your sisters, Iris, and your
mother
?”

“Hell, yes. When something's perfect, don't mess with it. You're going to fit right in, honey. Iris will take you under her wing and show you the ropes. Wait till you see Sunrise. We're all going to go up there this weekend. I just made a snap decision here, but I know Sage and Iris will agree to a weekend get-together.”

“I see. What if I don't fit in, Birch?”

“Why wouldn't you?” His voice was so puzzled that Celia grimaced.

“I'm not a nester, Birch. I've always been a free spirit. You told me that was one of the reasons you fell in love with me. I don't like rules and regulations. I like new things, new places, new interesting people. Costa Rica was fine for me because of you. I was somebody else there. I had to conform. That was part of the deal when I signed on. I didn't make a deal with you, Birch, to cook and sew and do all those housewifely things. Maybe later. For now I want to experience this wonderful place. I don't want a schedule, and I don't want someone making decisions for me. Is this going to be a problem for us?”

“I think the question is, what will you do? Do you plan to get a job?”

“A job!” She made the word sound obscene. “Will we need another income? We never discussed this. If you need me to work, I will. I thought . . . hoped, I could stay home for a while. I guess everyone in your family works, huh?”

“Yes. Iris worked for a bit while she was pregnant. She tutored for several months after Lexie came along. The kids and Sunrise are a full-time job now. Billie loves working. Sunny would, too, if she could. She has great ideas and shares them in the middle of the night when she can't sleep.”

There was a nip to Celia's voice when she said, “How cozy.”

“Obviously we need to talk, Celia. We can do it upstairs or tomorrow. I don't like things to fester. It might be good to do it after I have breakfast with my mother.”

“Does that mean I'm not invited?” The nip took on an edge of frost.

“It's not a question of inviting. We have business to discuss. You like to sleep late. Breakfast is at seven.”

“Does that mean I'm not part of this business? In Costa Rica you never made a decision without talking to me about it. We were a team. We worked together, and we shared together. Why is this different?”

“You know what I mean. You aren't going to be working here, so what's the big deal?”

“The big deal is I thought we talked about everything. You know all there is to know about me. Now, suddenly, I'm finding out all these things you never bothered to share with me. I'm beginning to think you were deliberately hiding things. Is there anything else you haven't shared with me?”

“I resent your tone and your implication, Celia. Those things weren't important to me over there.”

“How could a trust fund not be important? How could all this wealth and prestige not be important?”

“To me it isn't important. I've seen firsthand what money does to people. I'm just as plain and ordinary as the rest of my family. You said you felt the same way.”

“I had no choice but to feel that way. I wasn't born with a silver spoon in my mouth the way you were. I like the idea that you and I will never have to scrounge for money. I don't think that makes me any less a person. Security is important to everyone.”

“This is a family business. I don't make solitary decisions. I don't think Mom would mind if you tagged along.”

“Tagged along.” The frost in Celia's voice could have chilled milk.

“Poor choice of words. I'm tired, Celia. Mom won't mind if you sit in on the meeting.”

“I beg to differ, Birch. Your mother doesn't like me. I saw it in her eyes. Maybe it was the dress, maybe it's something else. Maybe she doesn't like me because you married me without her approval. Some mothers are like that.”

“My mother isn't like that. You're imagining things. My mother is the fairest, most impartial person walking this earth. She waits till she has all the facts before she makes a move. Everyone loves her, and she loves everyone in return. This town owes a lot to her. I take umbrage, Celia, at what you just said. I saw her welcome you.”

“You make her sound like a saint,” Celia sniffed.

“If you knew the half of what my mother has had to endure, you'd swear she
was
a saint. We're bickering, and if we don't watch it, we're going to have a fight. I don't like fighting, and I don't like confrontations. I had enough of that to last me a lifetime. I'm going upstairs. If you want to stay down here, then stay.”

“If that's the way you feel about it, I will.”

Birch stalked across the casino floor. He didn't look back.

Celia headed for the Harem Lounge. She settled herself on the same stool she'd vacated earlier. “Scotch on the rocks. I'm Celia Thornton. I'll run a tab.”

“I'm buying. Put it on my tab,” Jeff Lassiter said smoothly as he slid onto the stool next to Celia.

 

The sole occupant of Room 2711 paced the floor, his eyes going to the small travel clock perched on the nightstand. The minutes and hours ticked by slowly. Twice, Birch ordered double shots of scotch from Room Service. The third time he ordered, he asked for a bottle. At 3:45 he slipped between the sheets of the huge double bed. He thought he was drunk. If he were
really
drunk, he wouldn't be able to see the bright, red numerals on the travel clock. More minutes ticked by.

The numbers on the clock read 5:25 when he heard Celia's card key slide into the lock. He rolled over, his head in the crook of his arm. His position allowed him to observe his wife as she stumbled into the bathroom and undressed. What in the goddamn hell was she doing all this time? Well there was only one way to find out.

“Birch! I thought you were sleeping. I tried to be quiet.”

“You're drunk, Celia,” Birch snarled.

“I am not. I did have a few drinks, though.”

“How many is a few? All I have to do is pick up the phone and call every bar in the casino. They'll tell me right down to the number of ice cubes in your drinks. I'd rather hear it from you.”

“What's gotten into you, Birch? So I had a few too many. So what. I enjoyed myself by talking to people, nibbling on pretzels, watching the entertainment in the lounge. I didn't object when you said you wanted to go to bed. You were tired, and I wasn't. That's the bottom line. You have to get up in the morning as you pointed out. I don't since I wasn't invited to share breakfast with you and your mother the saint.”

Celia took the slap high on her cheekbone, reeling backward to clutch at the shower curtain. The second slap caught her full on the mouth, splitting her lip. “Don't ever, by word or look, talk about my mother like that again.”

“You hit me! You struck me!” Celia howled as she staggered to the mirror. The horror of what she was seeing made her shriek at the top of her lungs. Birch slapped her again.

“Shut up or Security will be knocking on the door. You stepped over the line, Celia. The women in my family do not hang out in the bars. The women in my family are ladies. I don't want you to forget that. I'll get you some ice.”

“I don't want your goddamn ice. I just want you to get the hell away from me. How dare you strike me! How dare you! Another thing, Birch, don't ever tell me what to do again. I won't tolerate it. We aren't in a Third World country now where women have to endure abuse like this. Do it again, and I'll personally fry your ass. I don't want
you
to forget
that
.”

“You sound like some floozie in a backroom bar. I won't tolerate that kind of talk from my wife. My God, Celia, what's happening to us? We never had a cross word between us the whole time we were in Costa Rica. I'm beginning to wonder what kind of life you led before I met you.”

Celia's shoulders tensed at her husband's words. Her voice was a hushed whisper when she said, “It's the liquor. You know I can't drink. Look. I'm sorry. I behaved like . . . unlike myself. Let's start over. I'm apologizing, Birch.”

Birch's eyes were wary, his shoulders stiff when Celia stepped close to lay her head against his chest. “Just hold me the way you used to. Let's put this behind us and forget today ever happened. I have an idea. I'm going to take a shower since I reek of cigarette smoke. Order us some coffee from Room Service, and we'll sit and talk until it's time for you to get ready for the meeting with your mother.”

Birch strode to the French doors that led to the balcony. He stared out at the city of lights, a city that never slept. His city now. His and Celia's. Suddenly he wanted to cry the way he had when he was a small boy. He looked at his watch. Sage said he got up with the chickens. He walked back inside, called Room Service, then dialed his brother's number. “Did I wake you, Sage?”

“No. Is something wrong, Birch? You sound funny.”

“I just hit my wife. Not once but three times. I needed to tell someone.”

“Uh-huh. I guess my question should be, why?”

“She was out all night drinking. She said things, I said things, she took shots at mom and I blew up. Would you ever hit Iris?”

“No.”

“What would she do if you did?”

“If I had to take a guess I'd say she'd kick my ass all the way to Arizona, then she'd take the kids and beat feet. Dad never laid a hand on Mom, Birch. Grandpa Philip never touched Grandma Sallie. Maybe you need to talk to someone.”

“I am. I'm talking to you. You're better than any high-priced shrink. You know me. Can you get away for lunch, Sage?”

“Sure. Name the place.”

“The Fox and Hound at twelve-thirty.”

Birch opened the door for the waiter, tipped him, then poured coffee into two cups just as Celia emerged from the bathroom, her golden blond head wrapped in a white towel, her body wearing a second towel sarong-style. Her left eye was swollen shut and her lips were puffy and bruised. Birch blinked.

“I don't think I can drink the coffee, Birch. Maybe if I had a straw. I wanted it more for you than me anyway. When you go downstairs would you send up some papers and magazines. I don't think I'll be going out for some time. Makeup won't cover what you did. I want your promise, Birch, that you will never do this again. If you do, I'll leave. The only reason I'm staying now is that I was wrong to do what I did. However, that doesn't give you the right to use me as a punching bag.”

“I'm sorry. Now, what do you want to talk about?”

“Us. Here, this place. Your family and what they expect from us, me in particular. I want us to share everything like before. I don't want us to have secrets from one another. I don't want things between us to change just because we're living in a new place. We'll deal with the rest of the stuff as it comes up. Were you jealous, Birch?”

Birch sipped at his coffee. It didn't feel right. Something was missing. Sadness welled in him. He tried putting his arm around Celia's shoulders. In the past he always felt good when she snuggled against him. For some reason he felt empty now. Things were moving too fast for him here in Sin City. In that one split second he knew that he'd made the biggest mistake of his life by coming back to Las Vegas. His eyes burned unbearably. “We'll talk later, Celia. I have to shower and dress.”

“You're still angry, aren't you?”

“Disappointed would be a better word. You have my word that I'll never hit you again.”

Celia's voice was that of a little girl when she said, “Okay, Birch.”

His back to her, Birch didn't see the ice-cold calculation in Celia's eyes. He was also unaware of the way her hands balled into tight fists of anger as she pummeled the sofa cushions.

 

“Where do you think you're going, Mrs. Reed?” Marcus asked, his voice tinged with sleep.

“I was going to order us some coffee. You don't have to get up, Marcus.”

“It doesn't work that way, Fanny. You get up, I get up. Let's just lie here and talk.”

Fanny snuggled closer. “I love waking up knowing you're next to me, and I can touch you if I want to. I'm so glad you found me that night, Marcus. My whole world had just been knocked right out from under me. And then, suddenly, there you were. I knew right at that moment something good was going to happen for us.”

“I knew, too. It happened. Look at us now.”

“Are you sorry you retired, Marcus?”

“Are you kidding!”

“You led such an exciting life flying to the Orient, Europe, South America on a moment's notice. You met wonderful, exciting people who controlled huge corporations, even small countries. This must be so tame compared to that time in your life. I worry, Marcus, that you will start to miss the excitement.”

Marcus leaned up on one elbow. “Fanny, look at me and listen to me. It was a job. I hated the hotels, the thick, rich food, never knowing from one day to the next where I'd be. My body never seemed to catch up with the different time zones. I lived in fear that I would get sick in some damn foreign country and die because I couldn't speak their language and they couldn't speak mine. I should have quit or retired a long time ago. I would have but there was nothing on my horizon but work. I settled. Until I met you. The only thing I can say for all those years was it paid well and helped me to help make my sister's life more comfortable. She was all I had. When she died, I worked harder because it was all that was left for me to do.

“Then I met you and your family, and I knew what I'd been missing all those years. I wanted to belong to someone. The sweetest words I ever heard were when you told me to drive carefully because you cared what happened to me. You gave me the key to that little house in the cottonwoods. I was so bone tired that day. I knew then that I loved you.”