By this point Jake, Mindy, and Bill had arrived at the Royal Gardens. Bill was in his suite enjoying the company of a nineteen-year-old cocktail waitress he'd met downstairs in the bar. He was stroking her hair and explaining to her the finer points of chemical bonding as it related to the mixing of alcoholic beverages. The waitress was nodding vigorously, understanding only one out of every three words he said, and wondering when she could stop listening to the eccentric rock star and start fucking him.
Jake and Mindy were in the suite next door. Mindy was crying and Jake was red-faced with anger.
"I can't take this anymore," he told her. "You've gone too far this time! This was supposed to be a nice, relaxing visit with my family. I came here to Heritage to get away from all the goddamn photographers and news people! I wanted to just be a normal person for a few days, to introduce you to my parents, to show you around my hometown. And what did you do? You turned it into a fucking circus!"
"Jake, I'm sorry," she sobbed. "I didn't know the Heritage media was going to be so aggressive. I just wanted it known that you were bringing me home to meet your parents."
"Yes," he said. "You did it for that sacred image of yours. Just like you do everything! I'm tired of this shit, Mindy. For God's sake, the fucking cops kicked me out of my parents' house!"
"They didn't kick you out," she said. "They just asked us to..."
"Don't tell me what the fuck they asked me to do!" he screamed, causing her to back up in fear. "Cops came to my parents house, Mindy! A whole bunch of fucking cops! They came in and they said their piece and I had to leave that house! Do you know how that makes me feel? Do you know how embarrassed I am about that? And do you know why that happened? Because of you and your need to have every fucking thing we do chronicled in those tabloid rags!"
"Jake..."
"There's nothing more to say," he told her. "This is the last fucking straw."
"Don't say that, Jake," she said, still sobbing. "I'm sorry. I don't know how many times I have to tell you that. I made a mistake by tipping them off. I realize that now. I was completely out of line. Please forgive me."
"It's not that easy, Mindy," he told her, trying not to look at her tear-streaked face because it was dampening his anger, something he didn't really want done right now.
"Please, Jake, don't leave me because of this," she pleaded. "I'll make it up to you."
"No," he said firmly. "This has got to end. I've been played for a fool long enough."
"No, Jake, no!" she sobbed, breaking down completely. She threw herself into his arms, burying her face in his neck. Her tears were hot against his skin, her body soft against him.
He tried to push her away but he simply couldn't find the will to do it. Her tears were getting to him, burrowing right under his resolve and lifting it from its moorings inch by inch. Soon instead of pushing at her his arms went around her.
"Please don't leave me, Jake," she repeated, over and over. "Please don't."
"This has got to stop, Mindy," he said, his hands running up and down her back. "I can't go on like this."
"I'll make it up to you, Jake," she cried, more tears spilling onto his neck. "I swear! Just don't leave me. Give me another chance! Let me make it up to you!"
He didn't agree to this, but he didn't disagree either. And soon her soft lips were putting gentle kisses on his tear-stained neck as she kept muttering "please, please". Her soft body kept grinding into his, her breasts to his chests, her thighs to his. And, as she no doubt intended, the blood began to rush from one head to the other. Once this began to occur it was only a matter of seconds before her lips were on his mouth, her tongue probing gently outward, touching his. And then the clothing began to come off, piece by piece. Soon they were naked, flesh-to-flesh, grinding against each other on the King-sized bed.
Chapter 11B: The Razor
Afterward, as they lay naked on their backs, staring up at the ceiling, smoking their cigarettes, she turned to him.
"I really am going to make it up to you," she said.
He grunted in response, feeling his usual post-coital guilt at giving into her emotional blackmail.
She gently kissed his ear. "Jake," she said, "I know I've been unfair to you. I've been parading you around like a toy, exposing you to all kinds of things and people you don't want to be exposed to. I've ruined your trip home. It's time we went somewhere where we can be anonymous."
"Where?" he asked, a note of bitterness plainly evident. "Madagascar? Or maybe Indonesia?"
"No," she said. "Somewhere close by, about two hours from here by plane. Georgette can make the arrangements tonight and we can be there by noon tomorrow."
"Where?" he repeated.
"Las Vegas," she said.
"Vegas?" he said. "You think we can be anonymous in Vegas? Are you insane? They'll be crawling over us from the moment we walk into the first casino."
"Au contraire," she said. "I've been there many times without anyone knowing. When you're considered one of the 'high rollers', as I am, they can be very discreet."
"I'm sure they can," he said, "but that still doesn't stop everyone in the casino from recognizing us and swarming us."
"Actually it does," she said. "There are special parts of the casino set aside just for the high rollers, parts the ordinary people never see. And the staff in this part of the casino will do anything for you. Forget about waiting for a cocktail waitress. There's one assigned to your table. And forget about some moron on third base while you're playing blackjack. No one is allowed at your table without your invite."
"Really?" he said, interested in spite of himself. "And you've done this a lot?"
She smiled. "Gambling is yet another one of my vices. I'm pretty good at it, too."
"But you're not twenty-one yet."
She chuckled. "When you take out enough in chips they don't give a rat's ass how old you are, they just give you the signature sheet and a gold-plated fountain pen. And they stuff you with free food, free drinks, free everything. Go with me, Jake. Let me show you what the high life is all about. I don't think you'll be disappointed."
"I don't know," he said.
"Know," she told him. "We'll bring Bill along too, he'll have a blast. In fact, let's invite your whole family. Bill's too. It's all on me."
"Mindy," he said, "my family is never going to let you pay for a trip to Vegas for them. Neither is Bill's."
She shrugged. "I wouldn't be paying for anything, really. They'll fly us out there and give us suites in the hotel. All I'll be providing them with is their casino chips."
"How much in casino chips?"
"Don't worry about that," she said. "I can afford it. You know that."
"They won't go for it."
"You never know until you ask, do you? Give them a call."
He did. Bill was happy to try out the Las Vegas experience. His parents were not, for exactly the reason that Jake had surmised. Jake's parents said it sounded like fun but they both had to work the next day — Tom on a court brief he was preparing regarding a young man who lost vision in one eye after being struck by a Heritage Police baton, Mary on a rehearsal for the Philharmonic Orchestra's coming winter concert series. Pauline was supposed to work the next day as well, but she decided that she'd just had a sudden onset of the flu and called in sick.
"High roller treatment in Vegas?" she said. "Count me in."
Mindy made another phone call to Georgette. Their conversation lasted less than thirty seconds but that was all it took to get the wheels rolling.
Jake, Mindy, and Bill drove to the airport (a smaller throng of reporters following behind them the entire way). They turned in their rental cars and found a place of relative privacy near the back of the general aviation terminal. Pauline arrived ten minutes later, stepping out of a limousine sent to her house and paid for by Caesar's Palace. She was giggly and wide-eyed — the result of drinking two bloody Marys in the limo — as she joined them in the lounge. She thanked Mindy profusely for inviting her along.