Chapter 12
CHAPTER 12
M aybe a pancake coma was not the answer to my prayers.
“Ugh.” I held my stomach and flopped in front of the television. Nothing was on and I was bored. I grabbed my iPad to find a book to read. An alert stated I had a new email.
I opened it. It was a bill for tuition and a letter from the dean stating due to tuition increases, my scholarship wouldn’t fully cover my final year of school, and I should make other arrangements.
“Shit.”
I knew I had to come up not only with living expenses, but supplement my tuition, too.
“Crap!”
I tossed my iPad, kicking the couch.
“Ouch.” I grabbed my foot, attempting to rub the pain away. I look around the penthouse I had been squatting in for the last five days. “What am I doing?”
I wasted a whole week pining after a man who obviously didn’t want me. I have stuff to do. I was mad at myself. Who cares if Kyler Grant is the man and the Daddy I have been waiting for all my life? It didn’t matter that he was the best kisser to ever live. Not that I had many kissers to compare to, but sometimes you knew you were among greatness.
As much as I wanted to stay and figure out my feelings for Kyler, I didn’t have the luxury of a billion dollars to tide me over for the summer. My tuition and rent were due in a few months. My options were narrow, head back to Jersey and get a job or take off a semester and go down to Tamba and stay with my grandmother. I wasn’t even sure if I would be allowed to stay with her for longer than a week or two.
My suitcase sat in the nearly empty closet, mocking me. I packed and checked for flights back to Newark. It was too expensive to book a flight for today. A saver fare was available for tomorrow afternoon. It had two stops and would get me into Newark after midnight. The rock in my gut grew, but I ignored it. Transportation was done. Now I needed a place to stay. My landlord had sublet my place to a summer school student.
I texted my friend Emily.
Rayna: Em, I’m coming back to Jersey tomorrow. Can I stay with you for a couple of days?
Emily: Sure. What happened to your super cool Vegas job?
Rayna: It’s too depressing to explain over text. I’ll tell you about it when I get there. I’ll send you my flight info. 3
Emily and I met in freshman orientation. We’d been classmate friends, sharing several classes the last three years, but we ran in two different circles.
Now that I had my temporary living situation handled. The rock felt like a boulder and I had nothing but time to kill until tomorrow.
Kyler wouldn’t be in until late and would probably head off again tomorrow morning.
But while I was living in the lap of luxury, for one more day. I might as well enjoy it.
I changed into my bathing suit and grabbed a towel. Skipping into the kitchen and opening the wine refrigerator, I squat down.
“Oh, pretty.” The shiny gold sparkly bottle drew my attention. It was labeled Ace of Spade and already chilled. I popped the cork, grabbed a champagne glass and took them out by the pool.
“Oh, this is good.” I sipped the champagne, giggling as bubbles tickled my nose. After the first glass, the regret boulder in my stomach dissipated. After two glasses, all feeling went away, and I passed out sprawled out on the lounge chair.
I woke up sweating. The sun was high in the sky. The pool looked cool and inviting, but champagne and swimming didn’t mix. Plus, my head was pounding. I sat on the top step to cool down before going back into the apartment.
Kyler’s office called to me. From the code to the door, which he changed for me, and the rows and rows of books on the shelves. It was cool and quiet, but it was Kyler, too
I walked around the perimeter of the room and plopped into his desk chair. It smelled of old leather and spice, like him.
I missed him already, and I hadn’t even left, yet.
With my legs crossed, I spun around in the chair a few times until my gaze caught a book lying flat on the credenza. It had a group photo of his family when he and his brothers were kids. A smaller book fell to the ground. It was a scrapbook of some sort, with drawings and pictures cut out of a magazine glued onto the pages like a craft project you did in kindergarten.
For my Daddy was constructed out of different magazine letters on the front. Love Lana was written in swoopy cursive at the bottom.
Each page in the thin book had a theme. Daddy’s favorite animals. Daddy’s favorite food. Daddy’s favorite activity. Daddy’s favorite game.
The book had more information on Kyler than Google.
I turned to the last page and the cheeky smile confirmed it. Lana was Kyler’s former little. Her blonde hair was done up in pin curls piled on top of her head. Her full cheekbones had a pink hue. Making her look so young. She had taken a selfie in a little pink ruffled nighty. She held the camera high and at a great angle to show off her boobs. She had one hand pulling on the ruffle of her cute little white socks with pink lace.
Under the photo, she wrote in pink and silver paint pen.
I love you, Daddy!
I slam the book shut and threw it on the ground. My heart sunk. It was right there in glittery paint pens and crayons. Lana was Kyler’s perfect little girl, and in no way did I measure up.
I stumbled back into the living room. Frantically looking at my phone for options. I had to get out of here, “But I have nowhere else to go.” My stomach growled. “And, I’m hungry.”
Rayna: Can I please have a pepperoni and jalapeno pizza and some ice cream?
Joan: What flavor of ice cream?
I typed all flavors but deleted it. I was annoyed and a little drunk from the champagne, but no need to take it out on her.
Rayna: Strawberry Cheesecake.
Rayna: Thank you.
“Oh, where did I put the champagne?” I retraced my steps. “Think Rayna.”
I found myself back out by the pool. The bottle glowing in the sun. It was heavier than I remember. I held it close to my eyes.
“Is it real gold?” I took a sip straight from the bottle. Champagne poured out on my face and down my shirt. I jumped back, glaring at the bottle in my hand like it had bitten me.
I made my way back to the living room. The aroma of pizza hit me in the face. My stomach growled. I grabbed the pizza and sat it on the coffee table. My mouthwatering when I opened the box.
I found a movie to watch and proceeded to have one last party on Kyler Grant’s dime. It was the least he could do. The pizza was gooey and hot. I peeled off a jalapeno and popped it in my mouth. My lips puckered from the tart pepper. I took a big bite of the pizza and groaned.
“Damn.” I took another bite. “Is there nothing they can’t make?” I scarfed down the slice and started working on the next. I finished it in record time and went for a third. Somewhere in between pizza bites, I had finished off the bottle. Some of it was down my front and on the patio by the pool. There was one last sip before it was gone.
“Adios, Senior Grant.” I held the bottle up in the air and toasted to the sky. My stomach grumbled, and I dropped the bottle and clutched my chest. I burped and waved off the spicy scent. The pizza had joined the pancakes and was about to revolt.
“Oh, no.” I slapped my hand over my mouth. I considered a full minute debating about which way to run. There had to be a half bathroom somewhere down the opposite hall from my room. I opened the first door and found a closet. The next was locked.
The last door opened into a large bedroom. The walls to the left and right were floor to ceiling windows with the most amazing views of Las Vegas.
“Oh, wow.” A king-size bed sat next to a dark stone textured wall flanked by two nightstands. A disgustingly loud and smelly burp interrupted my appreciation for the room. An odd feeling swirled in my stomach. I grabbed it with one hand and made it to the bed before collapsing on my knees. I crawled over the bed into the bathroom at the far end of the room. The toilet was further away. I barely made it before the contents of my stomach reappeared.
The horrendous sound and smell of my breakfast and dinner making another appearance made my eyes burn. Tears fell down my cheeks. Once the pizza, champagne, and pancakes were gone, my body continued to dry heave until my stomach couldn’t take it anymore.
“Oh, please stop.” I whispered to myself and laid my head on the toilet. The cold porcelain offered some relief. When I closed my eyes, the world spun but opening them didn’t help either.
I tried to stand, but my legs wouldn’t cooperate. Crawling on the hard marble tile hurt worse. “Stupid floor.” I made it to the carpet, and it offered some relief. “Stupid Daddy.” I hit the carpet with my hand and continued to crawl toward the door, but it was too far away. To my right, a sunken area with an array of soft furry floor pillows beaconed me and it was closer than my room. The stack of pillows offered a perfect nest for me to lay my head down.
“If I’m going to die.” I hugged a pillow to my chest. “This is close to the perfect spot.”
I lifted my head. “Oh, no. Not in Kyler’s room.” My head flopped back on the pillow.
The inside of my mouth didn’t taste so good. I needed to get up.
“I’ll just lay here for a few minutes.” It was my last conscious thought before I drifted off to sleep.
* * *
I woke to a dull throbbing headache, which expended to my entire body. My arms and legs were trapped under the fluffiest blanket. It threatened to suffocate me, but moving irritated my skin.
“Ugh.” My throat burned and the inside of my mouth tasted like dirt. “I’m just going to die, right here.” Die? I sat up straight and gripped my head. My brain banged around my skull. An image of a pillow nest popped into my mind. I remember falling asleep on the floor. I peeked between my fingers to find myself back in my room.
“Oh, wow.” I shook my head and stopped. I had been in his room. My heart sunk. His first instinct was to put me to bed . . . As far away from him as possible.
I slipped out of bed. My phone sat charging on the nightstand. It read twelve o’clock. A bottle of water and some Advil sat next to my phone.
How thoughtful of him. Jerk Daddy. I down the medicine and the water. My flight left in four hours. I had to get a move on.
I stood in the shower long enough to wash away the brain fog and gave the Advil time to work. I would miss the shower pressure here. It was amazing. I wrapped the fluffy white towel around my torso and stepped out.
I dried off and changed into a cute sundress I was saving for a night out in Vegas, but sadly, there would be no Vegas nights out for me. No falling in love and getting whisked off my feet by some handsome stranger. Hell, I couldn’t even manage a regrettable Vegas one-night stand hook up. Anyone could get laid in Vegas except me.
This entire trip was one big waste of time.
I checked to make sure I hadn’t forgotten anything and took one last look at the view. People moved across the grounds of The Quadrangle without a care in the world. They were here on vacation, to gamble, eat amazing food, live out their Vegas dream. Mine had turned into a nightmare with a hangover and now I had to go back to Jersey and get my life back on track.
“Bye Bye, apartment.” I waved and pulled my stuffed suitcase toward the door and opened it.
Patrick stood with his back to me.
“Excuse me.”
He turned around and his eyes grew wide.
“Hi Patrick.” He spotted my bag. He had an earpiece in his ear and held his phone in his palm.
“Hi Ms. Rayna.” He didn’t move. He better not try to stop me.
“Thank you for taking care of me.” I squeezed his forearm. “I appreciate it.”
He didn’t speak.
“Bye. Bye.” I shimmied by him, waved, and proceeded down the hall, dragging my suitcase behind me.
He caught up with me in the middle of the hall. “Uhm. Where’re you going?”
I reached the elevator and pushed the down button.
“Home.” I shrugged. “I can’t sit around that big apartment all alone while my final year of school is in jeopardy. I have to find a job.”
“O-kay.” He typed something into his phone.
The elevator arrived. I stepped in. The elevator only had three buttons. Lobby, Office, and Penthouse. Efficient.
I pushed the button for the lobby. Patrick squeezed in between the closing door.
He was seeing me off. How sweet. I smile, and he smiled back.
The elevator descended silently. It reminded me of those elevators in those state-of-the-art high rises. The display counted the floors rapidly. At the sixth floor, I started counting in my head.
Six, five, four, three, three, three.
The elevator stopped on the third floor. The doors slid open, and I gasped and glared at Patrick.
He shrugged.
I turned back and yelped when a glaring Kyler Grant, grabbed my hand and dragged me down the hall through a sea of people who swiftly got the hell out of his way.