Page 15 of Gamble
Reagan swallowed down the lump in her throat. The driver was already giving her weird looks in the rearview mirror. She didn’t want to cry and make it worse.
Meena continued to fill the silence. “I wish I could just jump in a cab and meet you there, but I’ve got to work this weekend since I’m using my time off for our honeymoon. Are you going to be okay?”
Was she?
Of course she was. No one had died. She was going on a weekend getaway. She needed to suck it up and start having fun instead of feeling sorry for herself.
“I’ll be fine,” she got out. “We’re only a few miles from the exit. I should make it in time.”
“Okay… and I’ll be on shift most of the weekend, but I’ll monitor my phone. Call me if you need to talk, okay?”
“Okay… and Meena… thanks.”
“Anytime. Love you.”
The tiresof the commuter plane hitting the tarmac in Las Vegas jarred Reagan out of her nap. Despite wishing she was landing in Sacramento instead, a feeling of excitement made her lookforward to getting off the flight. She powdered her nose and put on fresh lip gloss just as they docked at the gate.
Pulling her cellphone out of her purse, she turned it on, hoping to see Tristan’s texts he was just a few feet away and waiting for her to deplane. Text after text started flashing on her screen, incoming too fast to even read at first. As she pulled up her message app, she read the last text first.
I promise. I’ll be there before you wake up tomorrow morning.
WTF?
The people around her were already standing, grabbing their bags from the overhead bin, and ready to rush off to the fun that awaited them. Reagan felt thankful for the window seat that allowed her to sit and read the seven texts she got during the flight. Every one of them made her angrier than the one before.
Not only was Tristan not waiting for her, but he’d delayed his flight and would be coming in the next day. He may have thought he was doing her a favor by arranging for his friends Jeff and Jules to meet her at the airport for the drive to The Bellagio, but Reagan would rather have just taken a cab. She wasn’t a fan of theirs on the best of days and today was not shaping up as one of the best.
Resisting the urge to beeline to the nearest ticket agent to change her flight back home to tonight, Reagan wound her way through the airport to the door Tristan had arranged for her to be picked up. Just hearing the dings and dongs coming from the plethora of slot machines lining the airport hallways triggered her, reminding her of their first stressful trip to Las Vegas.
A wall of heat enveloped her the second she left the air-conditioned terminal. She threw on her sunglasses to shield the bright sunshine, grateful they would also hide the tears she was fighting back as an internal war waged inside her. Her brain wasscreaming at her to go back home tonight, but her heart hurt at the thought of giving up on yet another relationship.
As the minutes ticked by, the urge to leave increased. She was just about to go inside when a fancy sports car roared to a stop just in front of her. Jules rolled down the front passenger window and called out, “Get in!”
Not ‘hello.’ Not ‘good to see you again, Reagan.’
She stood there feeling like an idiot, trying to figure out where they intended her to get in as it was a two-door car. Realizing her dilemma, Jules huffed and got out, leaning down to release the seat to make room for Reagan to crawl into the non-existent backseat.
Feeling like a klutz, Reagan poured herself into the seat just as Jules crashed the seat back into place and slamming the door closed.
Jeff’s heavy foot had them jutting out into the busy weekend traffic before Reagan even got settled. She didn’t enjoy riding with aggressive drivers under normal circumstances, and today his jerky starts and stops were giving her a headache.
“Did Triston give you the good news?” Jules called out to her from the front seat, shouting loud enough to be heard over the blaring music.
“I don’t consider him delaying his arrival good news,” Reagan bit back.
“Not that, silly. We found out there is a televised poker tournament in town this weekend. Jeff got us invites to the pre-tourney cocktail party tonight in the casino. There should even be free booze during happy hour. Tristan is missing out by coming tomorrow.”
Fucking great. This was turning into the same disaster as her first trip to Vegas with his friends. They all knew damn well she hated being cooped up in the smoky casino when there were so many other amazing things to do in town.
“Yeah, well, I have a bit of a headache,” she warned, setting the stage for skipping going to the party with them tonight. If Tristan was going to delay his arrival and make plans he knew she would hate, then the least she could do was spend tonight soaking in a hot bath and enjoying room service on his tab.
Jeff almost crashing into a bright red classic convertible pulled Reagan out of her thoughts. The blare as he laid on the horn took her growing headache to the next level.
“Get out of the way, you old man!” Jeff shouted as he flipped the driver off.
“They shouldn’t let people like that have a license,” Jules added.
Reagan bit back the words, not wanting to point out Jeff’s dangerous driving. As they pulled up alongside the car, Reagan glanced over to see the man behind the wheel smiling, not bothered at all by Jeff’s immature road rage.
