Chapter 4
“The best thing about alcohol is that it makes your bad judgment
more socially acceptable.”
--Death Of The Party
I was acting on instinct and raw
emotion, which is exactly what had brought me to Anatoly to begin with. What kind of idiot was I to trust in
those things again?
The anger began to slip away and
I started to feel just…empty. I
shouldn’t have come to Vegas. What was the point? What was the point of doing
anything?
I stepped into the lobby just as
the Kinky green-eyed man stepped off the elevator. He walked over to me and his eyes were sympathetic. His sympathy made me want to cry.
“Room
608,” he said softly.
“Together?”
I asked and he answered me with a nod.
“Right,
well now I know, right? I mean I
had to know otherwise…otherwise I wouldn’t know and that would be bad.” I knew
I was babbling but if I stopped talking I’d have to think and…and feel this. “You should cash that check soon,” I continued. “Who knows, maybe you can turn that two
hundred and fifty dollars into two thousand, right? I mean this is Vegas!
Anything can happen in Vegas!”
I
could feel the strain of the smile on my face, all big and fake. I could feel Anatoly’s arms around me,
hear his laughter, feel the way he used to brush my hair from my face.
“Don’t use it on the slot machines,
worst odds in the casino, you know.” Just
keep talking. Talk so you don’t cry.
“Can
I get you a cup of coffee?” he asked.
“A little conversation over mochas? I’ve been told I’m a good listener.”
“Mochas,
I don’t’ usually drink mochas.” I looked up at the overhead lights. They were too bright for the theme of
the hotel and way too bright for my mood.
“I don’t think I can carry on a coherent conversation right now either.”
“I
didn’t say you had to be coherent,” Mr. Green eyes said…what was his real name
again? Andy? No Alex. Alex
Kinsky. Should be easy to
remember…but there was no need to.
I
kept my smile plastered across my face but looked away. “Thank you, Alex, but I I’m gonna pass.
Enjoy the rest of your night and, um, thank you for…for telling me.” Thank you for confirming my worst fears,
thank you for letting me know my entire love affair with Anatoly was a lie.
I could feel Alex Kinsky’s eyes
on me as I wandered back into the bar. I bumped into a tall Latino man sporting
a black t-shirt and an arm full of tattoos. Anatoly had been thinking of
getting a tattoo…I had been helping him decide on a design. But I wouldn’t be
helping with those kinds of decisions any more.
And yes, Alex was still watching
me…watching me until I finally managed to lose myself in the crowd of jubilant
people, many of whom would spend the weekend gambling everything they had on
games of chance that they would almost certainly lose. When I finally got back to the bar I
spotted Marcus looking around for me. By his side was Dena. Dena noticed me first and reached out
her hand. The gesture itself almost broke me. But then again this moment felt
too big for tears. What I really wanted to do was scream.
I
relayed the brief story in its entirety, stopping only long enough to consume
large gulps of alcohol. Dena and
Marcus exchanged looks when I got to the part about the check but neither of
them chastised me for it. Instead
they just bought me another drink. Marcus placated me by noting that the
busty-blonde girl looked skanky. He even took it a step further by insisting
that Anatoly was an asshole who didn’t deserve me. Dena remained noticeably silent.
“If we want good seats we should probably go up to the movie
theater,” Marcus said, glancing at his watch.
“I’ll meet you there,” I mumbled. “I have to go to the ladies
room.”
“I’ll
go with you,” Dena said as she tried to link her arm through mine.
I jerked away from her. “I don’t
need your help.”
Dena
narrowed her eyes. “Excuse me, but did I do something to piss you off?”
“It’s what you’re thinking right
now,” I slurred. “Your thoughts are pissing me off.”
“So
you’re a mind reader now?”
“You’re
thinking that Anatoly didn’t do anything wrong this time. You’re thinking that I broke it off
with him and he’s a free agent!” I slammed the rest of my drink before adding,
“You’re thinking that anything goes in Vegas, especially if you’re newly
single! Go ahead, tell me where I’m wrong.”
Dena’s
eyes were now so narrow I could barely see them through her eyelashes. Marcus
kept his face as blank as possible as he looked around the room, studying the
light fixtures, his glass and various other inanimate objects.
“I
don’t think it matters if I was thinking that or not,” Dena said, coolly,
“because clearly you were.”
“I’m
going to the ladies room,” I growled, “unassisted, thank you. I’ll meet you at
the theater.”
Dena
opened her mouth to protest but Marcus, finally bringing his eyes back to his
present company, patted her reassuringly on the shoulder.
“Sophie’s a high functioning drunk. She’ll make it to the bathroom and the
theater by herself.”
It
was a small triumph that Marcus thought I was a high functioning anything at
that moment and I spared him a small smile before spinning on my heel and
walking off. My phone vibrated in my bag. A text from my friend, and Dena’s
cousin, Mary Ann. I didn’t even bother to read it. I didn’t want to deal with
her or anyone else right now. I didn’t even want to go to the ladies room. I had just wanted a moment to myself to
catch my breath. Everything had taken on a hazy quality. The colored lights of the slot machines
seemed a little softer and…well, fuzzier.
And the laughter of the gamblers, the ringing of the bells…it all took
on an almost meditative quality.
So much noise and stimulation all designed to keep your from thinking
anything through. No wonder I had
acted on impulse, recklessly signing a two hundred and fifty dollar check to a
stranger just so he could confirm some bad news. Reckless impulsivity was what Vegas was all about. It all
made sense…particularly after five cosmos.
Abruptly
I changed course and went to the elevators that would take me up to the sixth
floor.
As
I rode up I tried to find some level of clarity despite the intoxication. Would I really hit him? What about her?
She hadn’t really done anything wrong. It was all him!
And
yet it really would be fun to slap her.
I
found room 608 easily. I’ll listen first, I thought. Find
out if they’re…in the middle of anything.
The thought made me nauseous, although the vodka was probably
partially to blame for that. I
leaned forward and pressed my ear against the door…
…and
stumbled forward as the door opened with the slight pressure of my body.
It
had of course been open the whole time.
The deadbolt had been pushed out so that the door wouldn’t automatically
lock. If I had been sober I
probably would have noticed that before pressing my head against it.
Yet
I wasn’t quite so drunk as to miss the fact that I was the only one in the
room. Just me and a bed that clearly hadn’t been touched since it had been made
up earlier in the day.
But
it was Anatoly’s room. That was his jacket draped over the chair by the window.
If
this was his room and the bed was still made then he hadn’t slept with her
after all! I half skipped, half
stumbled over to that jacket and took it up in my arms. He hadn’t even taken her anywhere
because if he had he wouldn’t have left his jacket…
Wait
a minute.
I
sat down on the chair and stared at the door that was still being forced
slightly open by that deadbolt.
Why had he left the door open when his stuff was in here? That didn’t make sense. I squeezed the jacket closer to my
body. It smelled like him and it
felt…lumpy. Why did it feel lumpy?
I
reached into the inside pocket and pulled out his iPhone. He left the room without his iPhone?
That wasn’t like him. I sat there
for a moment staring at the device.
This would be a confusing situation even if I weren’t intoxicated. As it
was I was completely stupefied.
“Okay,
think about this,” I said aloud.
“He left the room. He also purposely left the door open and he left his
jacket and iPhone here. Those are the facts.”
I
was quiet for a moment. Listing off the facts hadn’t been as helpful as I had
anticipated. Maybe I needed to
list even more facts. “I’m in Anatoly’s room and there are no
bimbos in it and the bed hasn’t been slept or fucked in recently.”
These
facts weren’t any more helpful but they were much more fun to say. I closed my eyes and enjoyed the mild
dizziness. Things didn’t always
need to make sense, right? As long as he wasn’t letting Mr. Happy go spelunking
everything was okay. I opened my
eyes and let my gaze lazily move around the room.
And
then I saw something on the desk. I stood up and went over to it. Carefully, I touched the cool silver
metal of the money clip I had given Anatoly last year, his initials clearly
engraved on the front of it. Inside the clip were five ten dollar bills.
He left fifty dollars in the
room.
He
left the door purposely open
He
was nowhere to be found.
These
were not fun facts.
I
was beginning to feel more sober.
Now clutching both the money clip and the jacket I checked the
bathroom. No one there. The towels
were still perfectly folded which meant the shower hadn’t gotten any more use
than the bed. There was a travel
toothbrush and toothpaste set next to the sink that were still in their
original packaging and...a small bottle of Aveeno Positively Radiant Daily
Moisturizer cream.
Anatoly didn’t use Positively
Radiant Daily Moisturizer. Of
course he should use it. I loved that particular product and had
tried to get Anatoly to use it as well.
I was of the firm belief that everyone
should have a strong skincare regiment, regardless of their sex. But Anatoly never listened to me about
that kind of stuff and when you considered why I threw him out it seemed
unlikely that he would try to win me back with newly radiant skin. And yet someone had to bring the Aveeno here and that someone obviously
wasn’t me.
I backed out of the bathroom and
then turned to examine the room again.
I spotted Anatoly’s duffle bag on the floor. Hesitantly I opened it up. On top were a couple of his t-shirts, some jeans, under that
a few pairs of boxer briefs and under that…
Under
that were two rounds of ammunition.
The ammunition Anatoly used for his snub-nose revolver.
With
a new sense of urgency I started rifling through the bag and running my hands
along the lining. His gun wasn’t in there. It’s fairly rare that someone packs ammunition without
packing their gun. So he had left his iPhone and fifty dollars behind but taken
his gun? That suggested he wasn’t
out filling an ice bucket.
Why would he have brought his gun
to Vegas anyway? And if he had his gun on him now it was undoubtedly loaded;
Anatoly never carried an unloaded weapon. So that was at least three rounds of
ammunition. For God’s sake, how many things had he planned on shooting?
My
heart was beating a little faster now.
Maybe the gun was in the drawer.
I opened the top drawer of the dresser.
What I saw there did NOT make me happy.
Women’s underwear! Son of a bitch! He hadn’t just picked up some random, drunk, slut.
He had actually checked in with her!
Less than a week after we broke up! Even Dena would take issue with
that! And I knew this chick was a slut because
of this stupid skimpy thong…actually it wasn’t that skimpy. I had the exact same one at home.
I also had the same pair of
bikini panties that were underneath those and I owned those same bras too. My head was spinning as I opened
another drawer.
There was the Michael Stars
t-shirt that I had left in my dresser at home along with my BCBG knit top and
my scarf that I had bought with Anatoly at the North Beach street fair.
In yet another drawer were two
pairs of my jeans.
I looked down at my hands. They
were shaking and this time it had nothing to do with the cosmos.
That’s when instinct took over.
As quickly as possible I took out every item of clothing and stuffed it all in
Anatoly’s bag. I ran into the
bathroom and snatched up the Aveeno and threw that in his bag as well. I didn’t
know what was going on other than that it looked like someone wanted others to
think that this was my room and I had a very strong feeling that if that’s what
they wanted it was very important
that no one ever reach that particular faulty conclusion.
I
could barely feel the effects of the alcohol anymore. Adrenaline had taken over. I grabbed a washcloth from the
bathroom and wiped down everything that I had touched.
“Anatoly, where are you?” I asked
the empty room. I desperately
wanted to leave but then what if he came back?
I glanced over at the
closet. Would more of my clothes
be in there? I rushed over to the
closet door and threw it open.
There, underneath a few of my sundresses that were hanging from the
rod, and on top of my beat-up
overnight bag that I never used anymore, was the blonde bimbo.
She was just lying there…with a
bullet hole in her forehead.
“No.”
I said the word out loud but this time it didn’t feel like I was talking to
myself. It was more like a prayer.
“No!” I said again and then pressed my fist against my mouth.
She
was dead! Dead and draped over my overnight
bag! As if I was planning on packing her or something!
And Anatoly was nowhere to be
found.
I
had to do something right now! But what? I started to reach my hand towards the
woman, as if to feel her pulse but quickly withdrew it. People with bullet
holes in the middle of their foreheads did not have pluses!
I
felt myself gag against my fist. I
tore my eyes away from the woman and yanked my dresses out of the closet. I had to get the bag too. I gagged again but forced myself to
pull it out from underneath her.
She flopped forward and I nearly screamed before I finally resolved to
shove her back in the closet with my foot and then slam the door.
Someone
wanted it to look like this was my room and now a woman…a woman who was
recently hitting on my boyfriend, a woman who I had paid a stranger to follow, was dead in the closet.
Calling
the police was simply not an option.
I
bit down harder on my fist. What were my
options?
Oh
yeah, I needed to get the hell out of there.
I
threw my dresses and Anatoly’s jacket in my bag and with effort managed to
scrunch his duffle bag in there too.
Using my foot I opened the door, then thought better of it and used the
washcloth to wipe down the doorknobs and undo the deadbolt so the door would
actually lock behind me. Swiftly,
and keeping my head down, I walked toward the elevator.
And
with each step toward the elevator the same thought rang through my head.
What happened to Anatoly?
Follow me on my Facebook or Twitter for updates on the March 2nd release of Vanity, Vengeance & A Weekend In Vegas. Also, be sure to check out Sophie's other adventures!
And
I hope there is no ear print on the door!
ReplyDeleteNext week - please hurry !!!!!
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