Page 80 of Mr. Big Mistake
“Please don’t be right. Please don’t be right. Please don’t be right.”
I softly chanted those words all the way to Lucky’s 8. I paid the driver before I headed inside, and the sheer amount of drunk people stumbling around me was insane. Glitter covered the floor. There was a half-eaten cake set up in the corner. Champagne was flowing, and the slot machines were glowing, and everyone around me seemed to be dressed to the nines.
“Are you with the bride or the groom!?”
One of the waitresses yelled at me to get over the noise, and I shook my head.
“Neither! I’m just looking for someone!”
“I can’t let you in, then. I’m sorry!”
I sighed. “Look, I’m only here for a little bit. I’ve lost someone, and I want to make sure they’re not here. That’s all.”
“Bride, or groom’s side?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. I really don’t.”
She looked around. “Fifteen minutes!”
I nodded. “Thank you.”
Then, I started my search.
I walked up and down the aisles of the casino. I passed through cigar smoke and men yelling at one another while sitting at poker tables. The smell of rum and vodka and wine-filled the air as women stood against the walls, drinking and giggling with friends. Lights flashed, and people yelled over my head. Someone spilled a drink to my left, and I felt it splatter against my bare leg. I tried not to grimace as I pushed through the crowd while music blared over the loudspeaker system.
I finally emerged at the bar, ready for a drink myself.
Until I heard a familiar voice at my side.
“LaShonda. You’ve had a bit too much to drink.”
A woman giggled. “Oh, Brenden. You’ve always been so caring, deep down. You’re really not a player, are you?”
I slowly looked over, and I proved myself wrong. There wasn’t anywhere else I’d rather that man be. His gambling and being drunk would’ve been a beautiful, romantic scene compared to what I saw unfolding at the corner table beneath a light that didn’t work.
“LaShonda--.”
“Oh, man. You still cut nice in a suit, Brenden. You know that? Come here. Give mama a kiss.”
I turned my back to the scene just as she leaned in. I couldn't take it any longer. I had to get out of there. I pushed my way back through the crowd and charged out of the casino. I flagged down yet another cab before I paid him extra to race me back to Brenden’s place. I felt as if I were moving in a fog. An angry fog that kept looming over my head.
I didn't come to until I zipped up my last suitcase. Alone.
Just like I’d been from the start.
“You're an idiot,” I said breathlessly.
I clutched my heart as I blinked back tears of hatred and regret. Tears of guilt and sadness. Maybe Brenden never was mine to have in the first place. Maybe people didn’t change. Perhaps people simply were who they were, and that was it.
Maybe he’s exactly the kind of man we think he is.
I dragged my things down the stairs and toward the elevator. I’d come back for the rest in a week. But, right now, I had to get out of here. I had to leave that place.
Not before shooting Brenden a text, though.
One he probably wouldn’t see until after his night with that slut.
Me: If you wanted to have a good time with LaShonda at the casino tonight, you shouldn't have treated me as if we were in a relationship. I’ll see you in a week for the annulment hearing.
