CHAPTER TWELVE
Fenton
I did not tell her she was better off without me. It should have been obvious. The party was getting out of control, but Kya did not leave. She bounced around the dance floor, the wild fans and MMA fighter wannabes not letting her supple hips and waist go by without pulling her into the rhythm the speakers pounded out. I wanted to shove them all aside and let Kya go untouched, but I could not reach her.
Shots of tequila appeared in front of me along with women in tiny scraps of dresses with sour lime wedges between sweet glossed lips lined up wherever I walked. The more I drank, the easier it was to forget the feel of the mats against my face. Peretti's gloved fist against my face had made me see red. The split second played again and again, slowed only by the tequila.
Peretti's fist or Kya's face – no wonder all I wanted in front of me was tits and tequila. I called for more and the music got louder and the crowd got wilder. I wondered if they all had the same volume button.
Let's crank it up, I thought.
When I saw Kya leave, I let go. It was not long until the tequila spun the party into a dark whirlpool. I let it swallow me. At least, I was going down alone.
#
The flat screen television had three different stiletto heels sticking out of it. A spider web of shattered screen surrounded a leopard print, black patent leather, and gold high heel shoe. I wondered idly where the others were, but my head hurt too much to look. I kept my aching head pressed into the pillow as I wriggled to get a horizontal look at the rest of the room. One of the white sofas from the sunken living room stood at the foot of the bed. At first, I thought it was a white feathered headdress, one of those fifty pound Vegas showgirl monstrosities. Then, I realized the sofa had been torn open, white down feathers had exploded everywhere.
A trail of beer cans, tequila bottles, and shriveled lime wedges trailed out the door of the master suite and into a bigger disaster. Had the bouncers let in a pack of circus lions? I remembered a group of performers, lithe women in tight costumes. The memory flashed too bright, flaming hoops in front of the bar. It could not have been real, but it might have explained the standing row of circus rings, bull whip, and singed ceiling.
"Mr. Morris? Everyone has been escorted out. It's time to go." A burly security guard stood over my bed.
"Time to go? This hangover is gonna need until at least noon," I said.
"The hotel wants you out in the next ten minutes. Do it or the manager will call the cops," the burly guard's equally big partner said.
"Oh, come on, I'm sure worse has happened here." I sat up and forced the room to stay right on its axis.
"Done by guests that can afford to pay for the damages. You can't. You're out," the first guard said.
"Your bags will be sent to your
manager's room," the second guard added.
"Can you at least let me find a shirt?" I asked.
"You're wearing one."
I looked down. I was wearing a tight white women's shirt with a low v-neck. In rhinestones it said “Vegas Can Kiss My A$$.”
"Yeah, I can pull this off," I said. I dragged myself out of bed and yanked the tight shirt down to meet the jeans and belt. "How do I look, boys?"
"I've seen worse," the second guard said.
"Man, way to kick a man when he's down," I said. I yanked my arms out of their massive hands and marched towards the elevator on my own. At least, they stopped to let me swerve into a pair of oxblood loafers I had left by the door.
"You're not taking him out the lobby." Kya slipped in the door and planted her hands on her hips. "Once he's out of the room, you can let me escort him out of the back of the casino."
The towering security guards eyed Kya's slender 5'5" frame and flashing green eyes. They glanced at each other in a stratosphere far above her fierce chin thrust.
The first security guard shrugged. "Just get him out before the cops come."
"Good luck getting this one on a leash, lady." The second guard gave me a shove towards Kya. I stumbled, and she caught me in both arms.
"Oh, God, did you bathe in tequila after I left?" Kya asked. She held her breath as she dragged me into the elevator and shut the door on the curious security guards.
"What's your plan here, genius? This elevator goes to the main lobby, right across from the front doors. Lots of action, lots of reporters by now," I said.
Kya rolled her eyes and punched the button marked B1 – Laundry. "We'll have to take our chances. The maids down there might kill you after they've seen what you did to the penthouse suite, but that has to be better than the crowd in the lobby."