5. Five
5
FIVE
E vent nights at the casino were a nightmare. Not only was I responsible for the safety of our guests—Vegas was the sort of place where survival skills went right out the window—but I was also responsible for the safety of the people who were visiting simply because of the event. That’s why I was secretly glad when Zach and the others shot down Ryder’s idea regarding an amphitheater addition to the property. Eventually, it would probably happen. Right now, with everything going on within the Stone family, it was an unnecessary consideration.
Still, a concert might be more fun than what I was dealing with this evening.
“That’s quite the party you’ve got going on in the back there,” I noted as I regarded the gentleman standing with a clipboard at the entrance to the convention center. When I heard we were hosting a mullet and mustache convention, I was convinced I was being played. Apparently, that was not the case. “The business up front is nice too.”
Sam Sewell, the event chairman, didn’t have much of a sense of humor, especially for a guy who was checking in every mullet and mustache in the general vicinity. The look he gave me suggested he thought I was making fun of him—which I was—but he didn’t have to be such a butthead about it.
“I’ve been perfecting my mullet for twenty-five years,” he explained to me. “This isn’t some fad, son. It’s a way of life.”
It took everything I had to keep a straight face. “And this?” I pointed toward the pornstache he was so proudly putting on display. It looked as if a caterpillar had died on his lip. “How long did that take you to perfect?”
“Two weeks.”
I cocked my head. “Two weeks? I can’t grow a mustache like that in two years.”
“It all comes down to testosterone.” He looked smug as he went back to staring forward. “This is a lifestyle, kid, not a whim. When we commit, we commit. It’s not for the faint of heart.”
I was still debating what he’d said when Zach sidled over to me.
“Hey, man.” Zach grinned at Sam. “How’s it hanging?”
“Low and heavy,” Sam replied, not missing a beat.
Clearly amused, Zach turned his smile to me. “I told you it was a mullet and mustache convention.”
“Yes, but I thought you were messing with me.” All I could do was shake my head. “I mean … come on. He looks like that guy from that show we watched that time we were sick.”
“You’ll have to be more specific.”
“You know, the one set on that ranch with the two obnoxious kids who were supposed to be adults but made us look mature.”
“Ah.” Recognition dawned on Zach’s face. “Sam Elliot.”
I glanced at the other Sam. “Is that where you got your name?”
Sam scowled at me. “No. My real name is Samuel Clemson Sewell.”
“That’s quite the mouthful,” Zach drawled.
“Whatever.” Sam puffed himself out so he stood taller. “I know who I am. I don’t need your approval.”
“We’re not being obnoxious,” Zach assured him. He knew how important it was to keep the guests happy. “It’s just … that mullet is magnificent. I’m a little jealous if you want to know the truth.”
Since Zach looked as if he’d stepped off the pages of a men’s magazine, that was hilarious on the face of it. Sam didn’t appear dubious, however.
“If you need some tips, we’ll be here all weekend.” His voice was deep and gravelly. “We have a spreadsheet to best project your hair growth. There’s a barber on hand to look at what you’re dealing with as well.”
Zach somehow kept a straight face. “I’ll take that under consideration.”
Sam leaned toward Zach and lowered his voice. “The ladies love it.” He waggled his eyebrows. “If you’re in a dry spell—and I can see why you might be—this is the way to go. Trust me.”
Zach’s lips quivered. “Well, I definitely hate it when I’m in a dry spell.” He moved closer to me. “Um … I think I’m going to head upstairs.”
I didn’t blame him. If I didn’t have to be present for the check-in—the group requested the security chief to be at the door so nobody tried to sneak in without credentials—I would be somewhere else. Heck, anywhere else would’ve been preferable. “Yeah. Is Livvie upstairs?”
“Last time I saw Olivia, she was with Ruby.” Zach grew more animated. “Did you hear what happened to my dad this morning?” He looked far too excited about a story that involved projectile vomit.
“I did hear.” I bobbed my head. “I saw Ruby when she was coming back with some supplies from the pharmacy. She looked a little pale but otherwise okay.”
“It was so weird.” Zach shook his head. “She was perfectly fine one moment, the next she was spewing all over Dad.” He tried to look serious, then burst out laughing.
“I don’t think it’s funny that she’s sick,” I hedged. Normally, I would be right there laughing with him. For some reason, knowing that Ruby was the one struggling didn’t sit right with me. Sure, I’d been careful to keep things light, fun, and superficial ever since … well, ever since the event I refused to think about. That didn’t mean I wanted anything bad to happen to her.
“Oh, I don’t think it’s funny that she’s sick,” Zach said hurriedly. “I just think it’s funny that Dad got puked on.”
“Well, that part is funny,” I agreed. “It’s weird that she got so violently ill out of nowhere, right?”
Zach shrugged. “She probably ate something bad. I made sure that I sent out people to cover her stuff today. If she’s up in her room all day, it will be okay.”
“Well, hopefully it’s just a twenty-four-hour bug.”
“That would be the preferable outcome,” he agreed.
I SPENT TWO HOURS WITH THE MULLETS and mustaches before making my escape. Once I was certain that Sam was distracted, I put three of my top guys on the convention and made my way to the sports bar for a late lunch. I preferred the ambiance in the sports bar—it was all high-fiving dudes and intense gamblers rather than flirty females in ill-fitting outfits—and I was more than happy to scarf down my burger and fries amongst the company of my people.
I was just settling down to watch a bit of a basketball game when Ruby appeared out of nowhere.
“I’ve been looking for you.” Her affect was dull, her eyes dead. She was also white as a ghost.
“Are you okay?” Concern for her well-being—was she still sick?—reared up and had an emotion I wasn’t familiar with coursing through me. “Do you need me to take you to the hospital?”
“I just came from the doctor,” she replied. Normally, Ruby had an expressive face. She was a giggler. Sure, she liked getting into mischief—a lot of it actually—and she had a devilish side. No matter what, you could always tell what she was thinking. Today, her face was a complete void.
“Is something wrong?” All I could think was that she’d found out some terrible truth about her health. Was it cancer? “You’re not dying, are you?”
“I guess that depends on how you look at it.” Ruby sat across from me. She’d yet to crack a smile, which was unlike her. For the first time in … well, forever … I found I didn’t want to drop the Booby Ruby nickname and watch her fume.
“Ruby, you need to tell me what’s wrong here,” I said. “I’m about to pass out I’m so worried.”
“Ha.”
I frowned. What was that supposed to mean? “Ha?”
“Ha,” she repeated. “You’re definitely going to pass out. Make sure you have a soft landing. Don’t lean that way.” She pointed toward my left and the hard-tiled floor.
“Ruby, you tell me what’s wrong with you right now.” I wasn’t playing around. Not any longer. The mere thought of her being sick was too much for me. “What did the doctor say?”
“You need to brace yourself.” She was unnaturally calm. If I’d just found out I was sick, I would’ve been throwing myself on the floor and demanding someone fan me. Ruby wasn’t like that.
She took a deep breath. “I’m pregnant.” She blurted the words so fast, at first I wasn’t certain I’d heard her correctly.
“What now?” I leaned forward. She hadn’t whispered, and yet I was positive she’d said something else entirely.
“I’m pregnant,” she repeated without taking a breath. “Knocked up. Preggo to the max. Bun in the oven.” A green color washed over her features. “Pea in the pod. Eating for two.”
I thought she might throw up again. “Okay.” I dragged out the single word. “Is this a happy or sad occurrence?”
“I haven’t decided yet.”
“Well … who is the father?”
She gave me a confused look. “Are you kidding me right now?”
I shook my head. “I’ll track him down and force him to take responsibility if I have to.”
She laughed, but the sound was completely without mirth.
“I’m being serious,” I insisted. “I’m quite intimidating.”
She leaned forward, and for the first time since I’d seen her today, she managed a smile. “Well, I’ve only had one shot in the past fourteen months or so.”
When she didn’t expand, I remained confused … right up until I wasn’t confused any longer. Slowly—way too slowly frankly—reality washed over me. “Wait…”
She nodded grimly. “Yes. I might be carrying the baby, but you too are kind of pregnant here.”
“No.” I shook my head. This could not be happening. I was dreaming … or she was playing a trick on me … or … or…
My mind was going too fast to keep up with. Images swirled through my brain at a fantastic rate—me holding a baby with spit-up all over my expensive suit, me trying to get a date with a baby strapped to my chest, Ruby and I standing over a crib and staring down at it together—and before I knew it I was dizzy.
“I think you’re mistaken,” was all I managed to get out before I pitched forward and smashed my face against the floor.
I could hear Ruby even though I was more than willing to embrace the darkness. If I allowed myself to sleep, then I would be happy when I woke up because this would’ve all been a dream. That’s what I kept telling myself as I slipped under.
It was a dream. Everything would be perfectly fine when I woke up.
TURNS OUT, WHEN YOU FAINT, YOU’RE NOT out very long. I was out just long enough to convince myself I was dreaming. When my eyes opened again, two of my men had me under my arms and they were dragging me toward the elevator.
“What’s happening?” I sputtered, confusion returning with a vengeance.
“You fainted,” Ruby replied. “I’m taking you up to my room to relax.”
Fainted? “I don’t faint.” I had my wits about me enough to be offended. “That’s ridiculous. Girls faint. Men don’t faint.”
“Yes, it’s totally an ovaries thing,” she agreed dryly, shaking her head. “Just … keep your mouth shut for a few minutes. Do you think you can do that?”
Could I? Since I didn’t particularly want to talk, I allowed myself to be dragged to Ruby’s floor. From there, I had solid enough footing to walk myself to her suite. I assured my men I was fine—I’d just gotten lightheaded for a moment—and then I swooped into Ruby’s room with enough vigor that the gladiators themselves would’ve been impressed.
I was barely inside before I flopped down on the couch. “What is happening?” I threw my arm over my face and whined like a twelve-year-old looking for Taylor Swift tickets.
“You fainted like the women you look down upon.”
I moved my arm enough to glare at her from beneath it. “I don’t look down upon women. In fact, if you want to know the truth, I happen to worship women.”
“You worship the fact that women give you sex. That’s not the same thing as worshipping a woman.”
I didn’t like her tone. “You can’t be pregnant,” was what I said instead. “It’s just impossible. You said you were on the shot.”
“That’s exactly what I brought up with my doctor.” She sat in the chair across from me, her face carefully neutral.
“What are you thinking?” I demanded.
“I’m not sure what I’m thinking. What are you thinking?”
“That whoever sold you that shot should be sued. I mean … if you take a shot so you don’t get pregnant, you shouldn’t get pregnant. That should be a law or something.”
A ghost of a smile appeared on her face. She was starting to get her color back. “I’ll take that under advisement.”
I stared at her, trying to get a feeling for what was going through her head. “What are we going to do?” I asked finally.
“Well, since I’m thirty-five, I think I’m going to go through with it. This might be my only chance and … I mean … I think I’m going to go through with it.” That was all she said. She didn’t expand in the least.
“What does that mean for me?” I didn’t want to be that jerk. I couldn’t help myself from wondering, however. My life as I knew it was starting to flash in front of my eyes. Did they even allow babies in strip clubs?
She shrugged, noncommittal. “You don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to.”
My heart skipped a beat. “Meaning what?”
“Meaning that you don’t have to be involved.”
The simple statement was like a slap on a naked cheek. “You don’t want me involved?”
“I didn’t say that. It’s just … well … if you don’t want to be involved, I’m not going to ask that of you. It’s not as if we planned this. We’re not a couple. We had one drunken, stupid night together. That doesn’t have to change your life if you don’t want it to change your life.”
“But you want it to change your life?” That did not fit the picture of the Ruby I knew.
She shrugged. “Honestly, I’ve been at loose ends for months now. I’ve been searching for something. When it was confirmed at the doctor’s office today, I didn’t panic like I thought I would. Instead, I felt okay about it.”
“You felt okay about it?” I didn’t get that. “You need to feel a little more than okay with it if you’re going to raise a child.”
“How would you know?” Her countenance turned dark. “You don’t have a basis for reference.”
“No, but I wouldn’t want my parents to just be okay with me.”
“Which is why I only want you involved if you want to be involved.” She was matter of fact, almost painfully pragmatic. “You should think about it,” she said as she stood. “It’s not something you should make a snap decision about.”
“You’ve known for exactly two hours, and you’ve already made your decision.” Why I was being so belligerent about this was a mystery to me. I just knew that I was worked up, and when I was worked up, I felt the need to argue. Ruby was currently my only option for a solid argument.
“It’s different for me.” She shook her dark head. “I’m thirty-five. If I want a child, I don’t have a lot of time. This child kind of fell into my lap. Or my uterus I guess.” Her shoulders hopped. “I can raise this child alone. Nobody has to know that you’re the father. I just wanted to give you the option to be involved … in case that’s what you want.”
“Who are you going to tell them is the father?”
“I won’t tell them. I’ll just say it was a one-night stand and he doesn’t want to be involved. They don’t have to know.”
I didn’t like that idea. “But … they’ll assume whoever knocked you up is a jerk.”
That had her lips curving. “They’ll think some random guy is a jerk,” she corrected. “They won’t know it’s you. Whatever plan you have for your life can continue.”
“And what if I want to be involved?” My mouth went dry even asking the question.
“Then we’ll figure it out. I mean … you can have visitation. We have daycare here.”
“You’re going to raise a baby in a casino?”
“Why not?”
“Because kids need yards to run around in.”
“That won’t be an issue for a few years. I have plenty of time to come to a decision on a house.”
I was quiet, contemplative.
“You have time to figure things out too,” she said. “This baby won’t even be here for another seven months.”
“Six,” I automatically corrected. “Pregnancies last nine months and we were together three months ago.”
“It’s actually closer to ten months.”
I frowned. “That’s not what television and movies have taught me.”
“Well, if you saw it on television.” This time the smile she graced me with was placid. She almost seemed serene in her acceptance of what was happening. “Take your time and really think about it, Rex. The only thing I ask is that if you decide you want to be involved, that you stick to it. I don’t want this baby growing attached to you if you’re going to take off in three years.”
I was offended. “Like I would really do that.”
“The reverse is also true,” she continued, not acknowledging what I said either way. “If you decide now that you don’t want to be involved—which is fine, I’m not going to hold it against you—don’t come back in three years and decide you want to be a dad. Just make a firm decision.”
“No pressure, though,” I muttered.
“You have time,” she reminded me. “I just want you to really think about what you want.”
I sighed like a teenager who was having his favorite game system taken away from him. “This is unbelievable. I totally want to know who invented that shot, because I’m going to personally track him down and beat his ass.”
She laughed. “Won’t that be fun?”