Weak for Him (2 page)

"What the hell? Get out!" I
screamed back.

Anger filled me. I struggled out
of the bathtub, splashing water onto the tile, and grabbed the
fluffy cotton towel before wrapping it around my sopping wet body.
I twisted my hair in a tight, wet bun, put on some jogging pants,
and slipped on an old, worn T-shirt. Forget wearing a bra and
panties, a manager would hear from me immediately. There's nothing
like a pissed off Texan on a mission.

I stormed to the elevator. I could
have taken the stairs, but I'd rather my anger be boiling over by
the time I made it to the lobby. The mirrors in the elevator showed
every sin. My nipples were hard, and I could see straight through
my white shirt.

Out of all colors to
choose.

For a second, I thought about
going upstairs and changing, but instead, I crossed my arms to hide
my body. The last thing I needed was someone gawking at the girls.
Bringing attention to myself was never something I wanted, and I
felt so exposed.

I stormed toward the counter where
Mr. Eye-full-in-a-nice-suit coincidentally stood. He complained to
the woman at the front desk, and I overheard bits and pieces of the
conversation as I waited behind the "wait-here" sign.

"No… Yes, there was a woman in
that particular room… You must have made a mistake and double
booked the room… I understand you're the manager. Do you know who I
am?"

"Yes, sir. You're Finnley Felton.
I sincerely apologize for the inconvenience, and we hope this
incident does not discourage your future stays. We will be
upgrading you to a suite, and can guarantee this will not happen
again," the overly happy woman said.

She handed him a new key, and he
rudely ripped it from her hand. As he turned, he made direct eye
contact with me, and I cowered. I had only been in Vegas for
approximately an hour and a stranger had already seen me fully
naked.

Thank god he is a stranger and I
will never have to see him again.

"And here is the young woman I
walked in on," Mr. Felton said.

With a voice as sweet as candy, he
said, "I do apologize, Miss."

Little specks of light brown
sprinkled the inside of his irises. His green sparkled like
emeralds. At a closer inspection of his face, I realized he wasn't
much older than me, mid-twenties—early thirties, maybe. I opened my
mouth to reply, but he was gone before I could say a
word.

The woman at the counter would
hear an earful from me.

"Do you have any idea what just
happened to me?" I said.

"Yes, Ms. Downs, and I would like
to apologize for any inconvenience this mishap has brought to you.
In return, we will be compensating your room for the next two
nights. Also, feel free to order anything via room
service."

"Do you think this takes back the
fact that he saw me completely naked?"

"Oh."

The woman
didn't
know what
I experienced.

"Ms. Downs. I am very sorry for
the inconvenience. Is there anything I can do to rectify the
situation?"

"Actually, I would like a bottle
of wine," I said, matter-of-factly.

"I will have room service deliver
it right away," she said.

I walked away without thanking the
woman. My mother had taught me better manners, but at that moment,
I didn't care.

Mindlessly, I punched seventeen on
the elevator and within a blink I was at my room. Outside of my
door stood a woman with a bottle of wine, and two glasses on a
silver platter. Bitchiness worked, and it felt good.

Once inside, I sat the platter on
the dresser and changed into my bra and panties. After pouring
myself a glass of wine, I pulled the chair up to the window, rested
my feet on the little ledge, and soaked in the city
lights.

This is what a queen must feel
like.

Tonight, I will get sloppy drunk.
First time for everything.

I tasted wine at a friend's
wedding, but after a glass, the desire to drink vanished. But the
wine hadn't been expensive and sweet, or cranberry like the kind I
had in my hand.

Without another thought, I picked
up the bottle and drank straight from the top. I didn't want to be
responsible. I wanted to let loose, relax, and pretend I was
important.

The most important woman in the
Bellagio.

Hell, if I were pretending, I
wanted to be the most important woman in
all
of
Vegas.

My head swam as the alcohol moved
through my bloodstream, making everything seem hot. Then my face
went tingly, and I had to pee.

As I stood, I slightly lost my
balance and placed my hand on the window to steady me. The cool
glass felt nice on my palm.

I raised the bottle toward the
city streets and the urge to be wild without worry or care overcame
me. But that wasn't me, must have been the alcohol
talking.

"Fuck it!" I said,
aloud.

Tonight, I would drink myself
drunk. I had a sexy man see me naked and in front of the entire
city of Vegas, I stood confidently in my bra and
panties.

I lived on the edge.

Well
, the edge for
me.

Three

I
woke with a headache from
hell.

Stupid-ass wine. Stupid-ass
Jennifer.

As I walked past the bottle, I
picked it up. Bone dry. I had drank the entire bottle and passed
out.

Hangovers sucked royally, and the
queen needed coffee.

I stood and shut the curtains
because my eyes were just a little too sensitive to light.
Gah.

Before entering the bathroom, I
caught sight of a black envelope under my door. Who still used
stationery? It seemed so old-fashioned. I peeled the golden seal
from the back and opened the letter. A business card fell to the
ground.

Ms. Downs,

Again, I would like to sincerely
apologize for disturbing you last night. The hotel, I hope,
compensated you for their foolish mistake. I overheard you in the
lobby, telling a woman you drove from Texas to Vegas alone.
Impressive. You must be a woman of determination. If you are here
for the long-term, and are looking for a job, I would love to give
you a chance. Feel free to call my office.

Regards,

Finnley Felton

The neatest calligraphy-like
handwriting filled the pages with the most perfectly curled
F's.

Finnley.

I remembered the shock on his face
when I threw the shampoo bottle. No way Mr. Eye-full would see me
again or become my boss. Out of the question. How embarrassing
would it be to look him in the eye each day?

I placed the envelope on the
dresser next to the empty bottle of wine, and slowly pulled on the
jogging pants and T-shirt I'd left crumpled on the floor. My first
and only interview started at 2:00 p.m.; considering it was 12:00
p.m., I had plenty of time.

After ordering a pastry from room
service, on the house, I dressed. I felt devious and wanted to be
sexy business professional. Black bra, black panties, and
thigh-highs, it would be my little secret.

I slipped on the skirt suit,
tucked my hair behind my ears, and lightly applied makeup. Light
pink cheeks, neutral colored eye shadow, and a shiny lip gloss made
me feel well put together. The black suit went well with my bright
red high heels. Nothing said
hire me
more than those
shoes.

I planned my Vegas life from the
time I left the farmhouse. I would work the accounting clerk job at
Simon & Fitch until I qualified to test for my Certified Public
Accountant license. After interning for a year, and working my way
up the corporate ladder, I would become a partner at the firm; buy
a new
comfortable
car, and a nice house.

Landing that job was the most
essential piece of my overall plan to stay in Vegas. It would
jumpstart my professional career while keeping my mind away from
Texas.

Simon & Fitch was only fifteen
minutes away, and I decided to leave before the nervousness
completely took over. I needed to calm down as I rehearsed the
different interview questions that most prospective employers
asked. What were my weaknesses and strengths? Why did I feel I
would be a good match for the position?

Arriving early wouldn't hurt. I
heard Mr. Simon hated tardiness. Being early meant being punctual,
and I had punctuality.

I tucked my clutch under my arm as
I waited for the elevator.

My heels clicked on the floor as I
walked through the foyer, which acted as my runway to success. I
worked it like a catwalk.

The blinding sun shone in my eyes
and I covered them like a salute as I strutted to the valet area.
An older gentleman asked for my Valet slip and scurried away to
retrieve my vehicle.

Fifteen minutes had passed before
he returned. The time continued to tick. "Ms. Downs. Your car has a
flat, and we are unable to move it from the parking space. Would
you like for us to call Road Side Assistance, or do you prefer to
change the tire yourself?"

I closed my eyes and opened them
before I spoke. "I can't change it dressed like this. How long
until they can get here?"

He picked up the special red valet
phone and made a few calls.

"One to two hours before they can
make it out." I looked down at my phone. I didn't have time for
that!

"That's no problem. Please tell
them to come out, insurance is in the upper visor, I really have to
make it to this interview at Simon & Fitch before 1:45
p.m."

But I was already late by my
standards.

"Do you have a shuttle for patrons
of the hotel?"

"Yes ma'am, but it only brings you
to a few designated places like the airport."

"Shit."

Blood pumped through my veins. The
stress, the feeling that no one was here to help, made me realize
how alone I truly was. I had no one to call.

Taking responsibility, I thanked
the valet guy and ran toward a taxi, in fucking heels. I had no
idea what I was doing. I never called for a taxi before, but I
threw my hand in the air and waved them on. One zoomed over to me,
and I hopped in the back seat.

The driver looked no older than
twenty-five with a baseball cap and Ray Bans. Hipster driver was
not what I expected
at all
.

Breathless, I said, "Simon &
Fitch, please. If you can get me there before 1:50 p.m., I will pay
you triple fair."

My phone read 1:38 p.m.

I had exactly seventeen minutes to
my destination.

The taxi whipped in and out of
traffic like a bee traveling through flowers. I closed my eyes and
hoped he wouldn't wreck. Since the accident, I got a little
skittish with crazy driving. I wanted to live, and I never wanted
to experience whiplash. It probably sucked more than a wine
hangover.

We crossed two lanes of traffic,
nearly rear-ended a few cars, and almost completely ran over
several pedestrians jaywalking. Curse words, a few middle fingers,
and fist shakes were involved. The driver had road rage and wasn't
afraid to show it.

Fabulous. If I was to die, I
wanted to look death in the face and take it with pride.

I straightened in the
seat.

"Sit back, honey, Imma
professional. Nothing to worry about."

My heart wanted to jump from my
chest, but I didn't let it. I did what the hip guy said, and sat
back and hoped an anxiety attack wouldn't submerge.

Maybe I wasn't as brave as I
thought.

Thinking back to my previous
statement, I should have added, triple fair,
if
, and only
if
, I arrived in one piece.

Interview questions flashed in my
mind. Why did I want this position? What were my strengths and
weaknesses?

The next thing I knew, the cab
inched closer to the blue building. I pulled out my phone,
1:57.

Holy shit! Where did the time
go?

After a screeching halt where he
almost jumped the curb, I pulled a hundred from my wallet and
handed it to the cabbie.

"This one is on me. You can owe me
one."

He handed the hundo back to me. I
crumbled it into a tight ball and threw it on the
floorboard.

"Hey!"

"Thanks!" I took off the sexy red
heels and ran into the building. My nerves felt like mush, and
sweat formed on my brow. Once inside the double doors, I placed the
heels back on my feet and rushed to the secretary's
desk.

2:00 p.m. I was late.

Breathlessly, I forced out my name
to the disinterested secretary.

"Jennifer. Downs."

The woman rolled her eyes at me
and looked at the clock.

"I am sorry Ms. Downs, your
interview was scheduled for 2:00 p.m. Mr. Simon is apt and expects
all prospective job candidates to be the same.