Chapter 6
The Eiffel Tower is a dwarf. The Ferris wheel spins like a miniature toy, and the rollercoaster of New York-New York wraps around that casino like an architect’s model. Up here, on the twenty-second floor of Lila’s husband’s new palace, we are kings and queens of a city of royals.
This building is one of the tallest in town. Surely it’ll be a home for billboards soon enough, as high as the entire tower, beckoning tourists to glittery extravaganzas for the senses. For now, it’s potentially the site of my next job.
I’m still not entirely sure why Lila wants me rather than someone local, so I ask her.
I’ve built a reputation on honesty—no need to change that now.
She’s next to me, her arms crossed, a look of pride in her eyes as she gazes at the expansive view of the city of sin from the floor-to-ceiling windows in her living room.
“Do you like it? The place is lovely but the kitchen is a mess, isn’t it?” Lila waves her arm toward the red stove, the black cabinetry, and the emerald green countertop. “Can you turn it around?”
“Absolutely. We’ll tie everything together, and make it the centerpiece of the home you want. But I’ve got to ask, Mrs. Mayweather—why not find someone local? Any contractor would be glad to work in this gorgeous space.”
She turns to me, meets my eyes, and laughs politely.
“You’re sweet to say that. But do you know how hard it is to find someone you trust?
To let them into your home? Especially in a new city?
” Her pitch rises, and she fidgets with her strand of pearls.
From her unsaid words, I get the feeling Lila has encountered some bad apples previously.
“There are so many predatory contractors disguised as your friend.”
I almost want to knock fists in solidarity, because do I ever know bad apples.
My college girlfriend, Roxy, was the rottenest one of all, but I’d have never known it at the time.
After graduation, she encouraged me to start a handyman business, became my biggest cheerleader, and helped brainstorm a business plan.
When she walked away for some dude on Wall Street making bigger bank, she did everything she possibly could on her way out the door to tear off a chunk of WH Carpentry it says she’s this totally straightforward person who lays it all out up front.
Who doles out compliments, who shares in excitement, who doesn’t hide who she is or what she wants.
All of that from the curve of her lips, the way her blue eyes light up, how her entire face glows .
. . Fuck, I’m getting lost in this one part of her, and I’ve got to get it together.
To remember the alligators . . . even though I can’t possibly put Natalie in that reptilian category.
Still, once bitten, twice shy, so it’s time to let these thoughts of her go. I start by releasing her arm.
As we reach the ground floor and exit into the lobby, she says, “I have to admit, I’ll kind of miss seeing you around the office when you’re out here for a few weeks working on Lila’s home.”
And hell, if that comment doesn’t hook into me even more. Before I can show off my mastery of self-control, the unfiltered portion of my brain wrests control. “And you know what? I’ll miss you, too,” I say, and it’s not the horny aliens. It’s just me.
We reach the revolving door and head into the Vegas afternoon sun for the quick walk to the Bellagio.
Natalie points in the direction we came. “I think I cut you off earlier. When we first stepped into the elevator and you said can I just say it?”
I laugh as she rewinds us back to what I’d been thinking as we left the penthouse. “Just . . . holy shit. Lila is the most generous person I’ve ever met.”
“She is generous. But you heard what she said. You’ve earned the right to her generosity.” There’s no teasing now in Natalie’s tone, and her compliment reminds me what matters—being a good guy. At work. In life. With women.
I need to stop thinking of banging Natalie in elevators, and, on that same note, of missing her. That’s girlfriend-level stuff. Natalie is just an employee. Nothing more.
I look at my watch. “It’s nearly four. Think there’s any chance we can find a watering hole willing to serve us at this early hour?” I joke, since it’s Vegas and round-the-clock drinking is not only possible but encouraged.
“Absolutely. Let’s grab something at the Bellagio.”
“Sounds good. How about an early dinner, some drinks, and an estimate?” See? I’m all work.
“And then maybe we can celebrate later and ride the rollercoaster?”
I say yes, because all work and no play makes Wyatt a dull boy.