Chapter 5
I don’t wake up until late morning. It’s not that I’m tired. I just don't want to face the world today, or more likely, Nick. The promises we exchanged last night still spiral somewhere inside my head, but I haven't decided yet if I'm doing the right thing. I want to believe it's the right thing for our relationship, and that what I felt last night weren’t just recoiling memories, haunting me only to further fuck up my life.
Last night, I felt Nick was a lot closer than he had been in a long time. It wasn't just the connection of two bodies against each other; it was the connection of our minds. To my surprise, he even behaved himself and didn't try anything other than keep me cuddled next to him. I couldn't really tell if he got the message and understood that I wasn’t going to sleep with him, or if he was just too tired to sneak his way beneath my skin.
We just lay there with his fingers running along my arms until the morning. He used to do that every night when we first hooked up. It was one of the things I loved about him. He made me feel special, spoiled, worthy of any sacrifice, even if that meant him staying up all night just to caress me.
Now that I think about it, I might sound selfish, but then again, so does losing all of our money, and I mean both his and mine gambling. That makes me fully entitled to a lot more pampering than I have been receiving lately.
I force myself to get out of bed. It feels like someone is pulling me beneath the sheets to roll around for a few more hours. It's not Nick, that, I know for sure. I can hear him going through some cabinets in the kitchen. It's just my lazy ass that has no intention of ever getting up.
My nostrils began to sniff like those of a hound dog sniffing out his prey. I recognize the smell. It's bacon with something else. I hope that something is scrambled eggs, and judging by the loud groan coming from my belly, my stomach does too.
That would be nearly impossible. Nick hasn’t picked up a pan in years. Still, we're too broke for takeout. That raises the chances of him really being the one cooking.
My growling stomach tells me to get out of bed, and I find myself nearly sleepwalking into the kitchen. “Morning,” I manage to mumble although it's well past morning.
“You're awake.” A large smile raises the corners of Nick's mouth. He’s just preparing to set the table for breakfast.
I can see the excitement blooming on his face from where I'm standing, but I refuse to lose even more ground to him. I try to look as indifferent as I can. We're still not good . He needs to know he has to work on things, although in the light of day, I’m beginning to think it’s close to being too late.
“Awake and hungry,” I nod, walking over to inspect what's on the menu.
Just as I suspected bacon and eggs. These kinds of calories warm my heart, but I don't let him in on it.
“Breakfast is done. I'm just waiting for the-”
Clink
“Toast... to be ready,” Nick continues, as the bread jumps from the toaster, letting us know that our meals are ready to be served.
There’s something about him today as if he can't contain his excitement. The more he looks at me, the bigger the grin that's spreading across his face. Finally, he can't keep silent any longer. “I've called Seth's men. They'll get back to us in a few hours with a date and time to meet him.”
I just lost my appetite hearing about the heist, but I don't want to burst his bubble just yet. “Then I'm still going to work after breakfast. My shift is about to start soon.”
My decision only succeeds in confusing Nick even more. “Didn't you hear what I just said?” he reiterated like I’m thick in the head.
“I heard you. But until you get to talk to your mobster and we decide if we agree or not to move further, nothing is set in stone. I'm not risking losing this job if your plans don't come through. Maybe he found someone else in the meantime.” In fact, I’m praying he found someone else. I don't know why, but after a good night's sleep and some of the alcohol leaving my system, risking my life for this relationship doesn't sound so good to me anymore.
But it’s music to Nick's ears, “He didn't find someone else. The man's waiting for us.”
“Why would he be waiting for us? Didn't you tell him I said no in the first place?” There's something fishy about his behavior. I bet he told Seth I was on board all along.
His omelet suddenly tastes like crap, and the bite I'm chewing on feels like it got stuck in my throat.
Did he just play me?
I was afraid of that. He accepted my refusal too easily just so he could play me like a fucking marionette!
His stumbling words only confirm my suspicions. “Babe, I... I just told him we would consider it. I didn't get back to him with a definite no .”
“Why not? I said no , didn't I?” How do I always let myself be dragged into these things?
“Babe, I know you said no. But I also know what it means for us. We can't survive here for long—as individuals or as a couple. It's our only way out,” his voice is shaky, almost ragged. If I didn't know better, I’d say he’s about to cry any second now. “And I want to thank you for going along with this... for still believing in us .”
This is nothing about believing in us. I know for sure that I don't believe in him. I might be blind when it comes to my heart, but I'm not stupid. Let's just say I believe in what going back to Cali could bring me. I believe that the job at the vault company will change my life and I believe that if Nick keeps his promise and quits gambling, we could make things work between us again.
But I don't believe for one moment he's going to keep his word.
Accepting the job is just my way of having a clear conscience for trying, and certainly, the only way I can get out of this town and this mess.
I don't say anything in return. I just take a few more bites and go back into the bedroom to get ready for work. Honestly, I don't even know why I'm going in today. Nick will land this job even if that mobster has already hired someone else. My boyfriend would probably run them over with his car or do something even more horrendous that I can’t even imagine. He's that desperate, I can read it in his eyes.
Still, I don't want to be home. I don't think it's civilized to leave work at a moment's notice either. It will be hard enough for them to find someone to replace me before my next shift, let alone in the half hour before I am due to start work after announcing my decision to them.
Trying to hold onto my decency and a shred of sanity I go to work—though I'm starting to suspect I lost the last of my sanity when I agreed to take on the heist.
The day has a strange vibe about it.
It's not just because of my manager's disappointed tone when I told him this would be my last day here. I think it's because everything seems so final. Even as I look at the clients, I start to think I'm going to miss the bastards—or worse, still start imagining they'll be the last people I ever see.
The thought squeezes the air out of my lungs as more morbid ideas pile up inside my deranged mind, building a pyramid of negativity. My pulse quickens, my breath picks up as a sharp pain invades the upper left side of my body. If I didn't know better, I'd say I'm having a heart attack. But I know exactly what it is—not a heart, but a panic attack. And, I can't do anything to stop it from taking control of me.
I'm bereft of all my strength and all I can try is to dissipate the thoughts and let my body relax, even if I feel an inner war about to break loose.
How can I calm myself when all hell is about to break loose? I can feel it in my bones, there's something so dark engulfing me that I'm beginning to think I should pack the essentials and run to a mountaintop where no one could ever find me. Too bad I wasn't made for the wilderness. I'm a city girl at heart, and no phone signal or electricity would kill me long before any forces of evil ever could.
I take my chances and stay at work, saying goodbye to my final hours between shelves and gas pumps. I hate the smell of petrol anyway. Still, I'm afraid that there will come a time when I will come to miss it.
My shift ends. I find it funny that this was the first day I didn't hate coming to the gas station. My mind works in mysterious ways—lately to my disadvantage. It's like I have a personal vendetta against myself for being so gullible and allowing myself to be dragged into this mess.
I return home to find Nick still there. This should be a first. I can't even remember when was the last time I found him home when I returned from work.
His earlier excitement didn't seem to have abandoned him. In fact, his grin stretches ear to ear as he's about to give me the good news. “What did I tell you, babe? It's ours. The job’s still ours. All we have to do is head to Las Vegas. So, go pack a few things, and we'll be on our way.”
“Well, hello to you too, babe .” I can’t help but roll my eyes. “Why am I packing things? Where are we staying?”
“I've asked Seth's people for a down payment. We'll check into a nice hotel in Vegas after we meet with him. He has a gap in his schedule tomorrow morning, but we need to leave tonight to make it. It's a seven-hour drive, it still gives us enough time to pack a few things and grab a bite to eat.”
Pack a few things... I only have a few things, so that won't be a problem. It's not like I bought anything except the essentials since we left LA. This should be a very easy task. The hard part will be going through with this.
Shit, I need to pick something to wear tomorrow since we are going straight to the meeting. I don't think my usual jeans and an oversized T-shirt will be too appropriate for this particular job interview.
I don't want to look sloppy. I wasn't the sloppy type but I don't want to look trashy either, even if it is Vegas. That doesn't leave me with many options.
I just pick a tight black pencil skirt and pair it with a white cutout-back blouse and the only pair of heels I have—the same foot destroyers I wore last night. As long as I don't look like a stripper it should be fine.
Nick doesn't seem to be too concerned about his outfit. He just grabs a clean shirt out of the closet and a pair of jeans, tossing the rest of the clothes left on the shelf straight onto the bed to fit them into the luggage.
I don't even know how or when everything happened. One minute I'm doing my makeup, the next I'm packed and sitting in the car.
Nick pulls up to a local diner so we can have a late dinner before we hit the road. It’s a long drive there with few decent places to stop. Not that this is decent. Just the cheapest dump around.
The food isn’t so bad, but despite the appetizing hamburger in front of me, I'm not hungry. I can barely open my mouth to talk, let alone to eat. The thought of going back to my old job terrifies me, not because I might fail, but because I will succeed. That would only push me further down the rabbit hole.
Still, I promised myself that if Nick didn't abandon this lifestyle, I would abandon him—if we would make it out alive.
I keep telling myself that I'm nervous just because I haven't broken into a safe in a long time. Deep down, I know there's more to it than that. I just need to do my best to get in, get out, and then get straight the fuck out of Vegas.
Nick finishes his dinner like he hasn't eaten in weeks. The man doesn't have a care in the world and that pisses me off even more than he already did. There's nothing I can do about it, anyway. I just pick up a café-latte on my way out, then I get in the car, take off my shoes, and curl up on the front right seat. We have more than eight hours to kill until our meeting, and I'm not gonna spend them with tensed limbs. A tense heart is enough.
Nick still acts like this job will be a walk in the park. That made me stop wanting to listen to him ten minutes after hitting the road. Besides, I'm sure he slept for a few more hours while I was at work, so catching up on sleep doesn't make me feel guilty about leaving him to drive alone. I just wanna have a clear head when I get there, even though I'm not so sure I can fall asleep with all the stress weighing me down.
My eyes burn as I blankly stare out the window, although there is literally nothing to observe in the desert at night. It all feels so hollow that my mind drifts into that same emptiness. My mind goes blank, and my eyes close just for a few seconds. It's enough for me to wake up in a completely different place.
I'm no longer in the car, but the same darkness is here, surrounding me, enrapturing me until I feel it becomes an integral part of my soul. And I love it here; it feels like home, even though I always thought I belonged to the Californian light, not to the darkness.
I can barely settle down into this feeling when suddenly a warm trail skims down my back.
There's someone touching me!
I instantly tense up inside. Instead of reacting, my body remains still, like it’s been expecting this all along. The warmth of the fingers running across my skin is like nothing I've ever felt before—consuming, aiming for every little piece of me, trying to possess everything down to the last cell.
I strain to see, to spot anything that might reveal whose hands are taking hold of my body, but the pitch-black darkness swallows everything. And what's worse, I can't help myself from falling prey to the sensation that begins pulsing inside of me. An internal battle ignites between the fear torching my soul and the devastating sensation sneaking somewhere so deep within me that I'm beginning to think it might be rooted there.
I know it's not Nick touching me, but I also know I don't want whoever it is that’s doing it to stop.
The fingers are replaced by something else, something warm and needy tracing the same path as if tattooing the feeling into my skin. It's a pair of lips, and even though I do not have a clue who they belong to, I let them claim my body as their own. Maybe I'm insane, or maybe I have never been more lucid, but it’s the first time I actually feel alive.
I don't even know what's happening, or how I ended up here, but darkness becomes less and less frightening as I only focus on the warmth trailing down my back.
I could give myself a medal right now for choosing this blouse.
I know exactly how messed up this may seem, but at this point I don't even give a fuck. I want some romance in my life even though I'm starting to believe this is just a dream.
You know that part when you're in a dream and you know that you're in a dream but don't want to wake up? That would be me right now, waiting for the tip of his tongue to continue its path to decadence and finish goose-bumping the last inches of my skin.
I might not get to see his face, but I can sure feel his tongue. Panic seizes me, knowing that I might wake up before the mystery man finishes his mission. And the same panic gets me to open my eyes, sending me back into the car with Nick.
“Fuck,” I groan, struggling to catch my non-existent breath.
“What's wrong? Did you have a nightmare?” Nick asks without taking his eyes off the road.
“Ahem.” That’s pretty much everything I manage to mumble, trying to close my eyes and hoping to slip back into my traumatizing nightmare.
There must be something completely wrong with me. I’ve never thought about other men besides Nick until now. I can only blame it on what has happened between us lately. We managed to lose the last drops of our magic because there’s no way otherwise anyone else could ever invade my mind.
My eyes drift to study the features of Nick's face again. Physically, he's the same man I fell in love with, but mentally, a whole different person. I wish I could go back there, to the time when we were happy, but something’s stopping me—something that's been slowly killing every feeling I might nurture for him for a while now.
He is still devastatingly charming. Good looks were never a chapter to be ignored when it came to Nick. The manly features that highlight his face only grew stronger with time. Too bad his attitude didn’t mature along with his looks.
I really want to believe it's not too late, but something won't let me go back to the way we were, no matter how hard I want to try. Maybe he's made too many mistakes, or maybe he's hurt me too deeply in the process, but more and more, it feels like we’re racing toward an end, not a beginning. Despite everything, I need to stay strong and move further with our plan. It’s the only chance we have together as well as apart.
I doze off and on during the trip to Vegas, but I never get to follow up on my dream—mostly because Nick won’t stop talking. If I didn't know better, I'd swear he could see into my mind, catching glimpses of the mysterious man waiting for me there.
I must be losing it. It's probably from spending so much time together with Nick. This is actually the first time in ages that we've been in the same place for this long, except for sleeping in the same bed. But even that is happening less and less lately.
His mouth wouldn't shut up the whole way to Vegas, making me realize how few things we have in common these days. Not a single thing that he has to say interests me. I know he’s only trying to make me loosen up, but his stories about betting at the tracks or the Vegas casinos are only making me want to jump out of the moving car.
How did we get like this?
Was it me?
Was it him?
But most importantly, does it even matter in the end?
It's morning by the time we arrive in Vegas. I keep watching the sun rising over the arid lands like it's the last time I'll ever see it. I have to get a grip on myself. I can't go to the meeting looking like a rag doll.
Taking a deep breath I try to control myself. In fact, I take so many deep breaths that by the time I'm done, I notice Nick stopping in front of a building. It's the same building he showed me in his phone gallery. That means we're here and I'm about to officially accept the mission.
Fuck my life...