When I was walking out the door, he yelled, “Are you sure you don’t want to blow me for luck first?”
After valet parking, I walked into the Palazzo and found my way to the LAVO Lounge where I was meeting Derrick. My back office instructions said that he would be waiting for me before we hit the tables. The LAVO Lounge has a bar and restaurant on one side and a nightclub on the other. I’d been told it could get pretty steamy on the dance floor.
When I entered the swank, dimly lit bar, I scanned it for Derrick. The lounge could be described as a modern day speakeasy with deep crimson plush furnishings, rich woods throughout, and high back chairs to make any man feel like a king. I spotted Derrick sitting at the bar, dressed in a pair of dark slacks and a charcoal grey button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows. He was definitely easy on the eyes and I questioned why he would hire an escort. He’d mentioned he had a wife at home.
He turned and smiled. “Andi with an I.” He stood and I leaned in to kiss his cheek.
“Hello, sweetie.”
“Baby girl, I’m anything but sweet.”
“Is that right?”
He winked. “Maybe you’ll find out.” I laughed, ignoring the innuendo. “Margarita again?” He nodded to his drink and that’s when I saw his forearm and the dragon tattoo sticking out of the rolled up sleeve.
In his suit, Derrick looked like a well-dressed business man, but underneath I would bet he was tatted up. Not everyone is who they appear to be. Some people will do anything to appear to be the perfect person on the outside.
“Yes, on the rocks with salt please.”
“I remember.” He nodded to the bartender.
I sat in the empty chair and waited for my drink. “So, what kind of business are you in town for?”
With a straight face he answered, “Porn.”
I laughed. “Well, we are in Vegas after all, but I wasn’t expecting that answer. What are you an actor?” I glanced down at his tattoo and then back up to his eyes.
His gaze followed mine and he laughed. “No, I’m only kidding. I’m a salesman trying to get our shit in every hotel on the strip.”
The bartender placed my drink in front of me and I took a sip. “What kind of shit?”
“The toiletries in the hotel rooms.”
“Really? That’s cool.”
“Not really.” He laughed and took a pull of his beer. “But I don’t want to talk about work, Andi with an I.” He grabbed a piece of my long dark brown hair, twirling the end then releasing it.
I smiled. “Other than strip clubs, what’s a man like you do for fun in Sin City?”
“I only gamble with a lucky charm because I always lose, and I hate going to the corny shows by myself, so I just like to look at tits and ass.” His gaze roamed up and down my legs then rested on my boobs before finally my eyes as he waited for my response.
I grabbed my drink, took the final sips and stood, ready to get the show on the road.
The cheers of people could be heard all around us as we walked toward the tables of the Palazzo. People smoked cigarettes, drank and bumped into us—basically it was your typical Saturday night in Vegas.
“Do you know how to play?” Derrick asked as we got closer. His hand was in mine, but it felt weird. It wasn’t Paul’s and I missed him. I missed his smell, his touch, his laugh, his voice, and it hadn’t even been two hours. It was probably because I was out with another man. Yeah, this whole dating other people thing sucked, but I had no leads on the sex trafficking situation and I had to keep going until I did.
I shook my head. “I’m more of a blackjack girl.”
“Let’s try craps and see what happens. I want to see your mouth blow something.”
My gaze darted to his. “I’m good at that.” I really wasn’t. I’d never given a blowjob a day in my life. We could thank the curse for that.
He groaned as we stepped up to the table. “I bet you are, baby girl. Damn … I bet you are.”
I smiled up at him and waited for him to place his bet, but he didn’t. “Why aren’t you placing a bet?” I whispered.
He wrapped his arm around my shoulder and pulled me closer to him. “I’m waiting to become the shooter.” He kissed the top of my head. I nodded as if I knew what that meant—I had no idea.
The cocktail waitress came over and we both ordered drinks. Finally, Derrick placed a bet on the pass line. I couldn’t tell how much, but the table had a minimum of twenty dollars per bet. He was passed the dice and then he reached out for me to blow on them. I leaned forward and blew.
When I looked up, all eyes were on me and I smiled, wondering if they thought I was his girlfriend or his mistress—I guess I kinda was both. When I continued to scan the table, my gaze fell on familiar brown ones. I tilted my head in question and she waved.
“What are you doing here?” I mouthed. She didn’t say anything as she started to walk toward me.
Derrick turned to me and said, “Our number is eight.”
“What does that mean?”
“We rolled an eight. We can’t roll an eight or our turn is over.”
“How do we win money?”
He was already reaching to place chips down on the ten. “We have to roll a ten now, Andi with an I.” He held up his hand with the dice and I blew. He rolled a three.
I frowned. “Aw, I’m sorry.”
“It’s not an eight.” He laughed.
“We keep going?”
He nodded and placed more chips on the two on the green felt table and I looked over at the girl from the strip club that told me about Mr. Martinez. She was standing next to me, waiting for me to acknowledge her, but Derrick was in the middle of betting. He reached out again with the dice for me to blow on and I did. He tossed them on the table.
“Yes!” I cheered as I counted the two die; he’d rolled snake eyes. He hugged me then grabbed his winnings and the dice. “More?” I asked.
“We go until we roll an eight.” He chuckled.
“Oh,” I stammered and turned quickly to the chick next to me. “What are you doing here?” I whispered again.
“I saw you over here and wanted to come say hi.”
“I’m working.”
“I know.”
Derrick turned to me and I smiled up and him and blew. I wasn’t sure which number he placed a bet on; I just hoped he won.
“Let’s talk after your date is over,” she continued.
I wanted to tell her to fuck off because I wanted to go straight home to Paul, but I was here to do a job both for S&R and the FBI. I nodded. “Yeah. I’ll meet you at the valet at midnight.”
Cheers erupted around the table. Derrick turned and we hugged. He must have won. When he turned to grab the dice, the girl was gone.
“Pick a number, baby girl,” Derrick offered, holding chips out to place a bet.
I looked at the table, leaned closer and then back to him. “Five.”
“If I roll a five, you have to kiss me.”
I smiled. “Okay.” I blew on the dice again and sure enough he threw a five. Without hesitation, I stood and wrapped my arms around his neck, planting my lips on his. It was nothing like kissing Paul. I felt nothing. There were no butterflies in my stomach, no drip in my panties, nothing.
I blew on the dice again and he threw an eight, the crowd groaned and he drew me to him.
“What does that mean again?”
“We lost and my turn is over.”
“Aw man.”
“I won a grand, though,” he beamed, riffling his chips.
“So I am your lucky charm?”
He pulled me to him and kissed me again. “Yeah, you sure are.”
We stayed at the table while he placed bets on other shooters until he was the shooter a few more times. Twice he won on the come out roll. I was starting to believe I was really his lucky charm because he was racking in the dough.
The date was coming to an end and I was walking him toward the elevators where I was going to say goodbye.
“Come up to my room with me, Andi with an I.” His arms wrapped around my waist, his body flush with mine as he leaned into me and against the waiting elevator wall.
“Sweetie, you know I can’t do that.”