42. Chapter 42
On our second day in Vegas, Jordan was already sunburnt.
Shay puked in an ashtray with someone’s lit cigarette still in it.
I was still doing okay, although the blackjack table screamed my name.
The sun and lingering desert heat was amazing.
The three of us had just finished a late brunch, which was technically just lunch.
“That was pretty good,” I said before finishing my coffee.
“My eggs were a little runny,” Jordan groaned.
Dressed in a tank top with his very noticeably burned skin, Jordan looked like the picture of a midwestern tourist. He just needed a fanny pack. But I wasn’t giving him mine.
“Guys!” Shay ran to the table from the bathroom. “Someone famous is coming in!”
Shay had her eyes peeled for celebrities. She wanted pictures for social media. No luck yet.
“How do you know?” I asked.
“When I was leaving the bathroom, I saw their entire entourage, bodyguards and stuff waiting at the entrance.”
“Who is it?” Jordan asked, as if he knew celebrities at all.
“No clue. Couldn’t see them, but they’re famous, I’m sure of it!”
The restaurant got quiet as a group of burly men walked in.
At the center of all that muscle was a man in a bright orange shirt, a layer of gold chains, and ripped jeans.
Head high, he strode in with an unflappable air of confidence.
His eyes were hidden behind a pair of blinged-out sunglasses. My mouth dropped open. It was Wooly.
Fucking hell.
I jumped up to my feet and shouted for him. Heads on a swivel, his security team spun toward me ready to attack.
“Wooly! Hey Wooly! It’s me, Poppy!”
That caught his attention. Wooly stepped around his men and jogged up to me.
“POPPY?!”
“In the flesh.”
He pulled me into a bear hug, squeezing me so hard, my feet left the floor. I laughed against his shoulder. Wooly smelled like peppermint and weed.
“My girl Poppy!” Smiling widely, he returned me to my feet. “Girl! What you doing here?”
“Me and my friends.” I pointed over my shoulder to a starstruck Shay and unimpressed Jordan. “We kinda came on a whim.”
“How long you in Sin City for?”
“A few days.”
“That’s what’s up!”
Wooly sat in the open chair beside me. His bodyguards closed ranks and sat at the surrounding tables.
One table had a family already sitting there and the bodyguard just casually pulled up a seat beside a drooling toddler in a highchair.
Wooly waved over the waitress and ordered without looking at the menu.
Of course, they were going to cook the celebrity whatever he wanted.
He shook hands with Jordan and Shay, and once introductions were out of the way, he turned back to me.
“Poppy, Poppy, Poppy,” Wooly rested his sunglasses on top of his head and raised an eyebrow at me.
I swallowed. I knew what he was curious about. He didn’t have to say it.
“…I don’t want to talk about that.”
“Fair enough.”
To my relief, Wooly listened and turned his attention to my friends.
Shay’s eyes screamed with excitement as he turned on the charm.
Steam threatened to shoot out of Jordan’s ears.
He was in town for some promotional things.
He did a club appearance last night and was performing at an event later today.
His eyes widened, the cogs of his mind clearly turning.
“Y’all wanna come? I’ll get you guys some passes.”
“YES!” Shay shouted.
I laughed.
“I mean, if it’s not too much of a hassle?” She batted her lashes.
I glanced at Jordan and couldn’t tell if the red reaching up his neck was his sunburn or his anger.
Wooly waved his hand. “Ain’t nothing. Anything for my girl, Poppy, and her friends.”
Jordan apparently had a totally important and real work thing to do, so he stayed behind in the hotel room.
Him being a wet blanket didn’t mean we couldn’t have a good time.
Shay and I changed into flowy sundresses we bought for this trip and headed over to Caesar’s Palace.
The few minutes spent outside in the desert heat getting in and out of the taxi had me already swimming in under boob sweat.
I double-checked my phone for the directions Wooly had sent.
We shuffled through the casino and up to an inconspicuously-guarded side door.
Shay and I exchanged humble glances as the security took his sweet time checking for my name on his list. Thankfully, he let us in.
Another security guard led us through a long winding hall, through a pair of double doors to floor seating.
“Oooooo!” Shay whistled. “This is nice!”
“Yeah, it is.” We sat in the 9th row.
The view of the stage was perfect. Close enough to see everything, but far enough away not to see nose hairs. Shay elbowed my side as she pulled out her phone. Several selfies with flash and without flash later, she set about editing the perfect ones for social media.
I glanced around the auditorium. Beside several filled rows up front, most seats were empty.
I was very curious about what kind of show we were attending.
Shay, on the other hand, didn’t seem to really care.
The pictures she took with Wooly at brunch had blown up her follower numbers and she was more than happy to keep up the momentum.
Slowly, the house lights went down. All ambient chatter stopped as several backing musicians took the stage.
After a momentary pause, a lone figure emerged from the stage shadows and my fucking stomach dropped.
The walk was wrong. The height was wrong.
Everything I was looking at was wrong. The man that stepped into the spotlight wasn’t Wooly.
It was Summoner.
He stepped up to the front of the stage with a guitar in his arms. His face was mostly clean shaven.
He was dressed in a gray dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up.
Chunky silver bracelets on both wrists covered the deepest of his scars.
He looked amazing. My heart did a very familiar backflip in my chest. Seeing him in the flesh was a sledgehammer to my feelings.
Shay grabbed my arm. “That’s him! That’s your sugar daddy!”
“D-Did you know about this? Is this why you wanted to come to Vegas?!”
I panicked. Wooly had fleeced us. He was trying to play fucking cupid. I didn’t know what he expected to happen here, for me and Summoner to stage dive into each other’s arms like he hadn’t broken up with me via a letter?
Shay shook her head and gave my arm a squeeze. I wrung my hands together in my lap. Whatever the reasoning, the facts of the situation were: I loved him, my heart still ached for him, and after this, I had no plans to see him again, ever.
Summoner’s lips pressed themselves into a wry grin. “I’ll have some unexpected friends performing with me today. Also, thank you everyone for coming. You’ll have to forgive me if we sound a little rough. I’ve been out of practice for nearly 30 years.”
The audience laughed. Summoner nodded and his band started to play.
They opened with Moonlight’s Mile from The Conscience Enclosure.
His voice flowed smoothly like spun gold.
The man still had an effortless stage presence, which everyone seemed enraptured by.
Nothing about this setup screamed Vegas flash.
They dressed everything down. I bit the inside of my cheek as I watched him play along, but under the bright lights, I could see a panicked edge in his eyes.
In between songs, he composed himself with several deep breaths and sips of water from a stand near his microphone. He held it together well.
“This isn’t my type of music, but I like it. I see why you fucked him,” Shay giggled in my ear.
Heat filled my cheeks. Of course Summoner was a masterful performer. Time away or not, he had barely lost a step. He bantered with the press near the stage and gave little monologues about each song. Apparently, today’s performance was a mix of practice, a press junket, and a new album preview.
“I know everyone only wants to hear the hits, but hopefully you’ll come to like the new stuff, too.” He smiled.
The crowd burst into applause. He was moving forward with life. I was, too. Maybe today could serve as some sort of weird, emotionally draining closure. Summoner was performing and releasing music again. He was okay. My hurt feelings aside, that was what I wanted for him.
“So.” He sat on a stool and ran his hands down his thighs. “I had a friend who got himself entangled with a younger woman. The venom of youth. This song is called Flowers of Envy.”
Guitars roared loudly as Summoner sang an extended note. Head back, the spotlight shone on his cutting figure. His longing-drenched notes swirled around me, sending goosebumps up my spine.
Again, Shay squeezed my shoulder, “Is…Is this about you?”
Lust, longing, and the folly of weak men. Old enough to be her dad. A snake in his garden. A poisoned seduction. Lust was the only connection between us. Although warned by friends and family alike, her youthful beauty blinded him. A tragedy. Summoner smiled. His eyebrows wiggled at every innuendo.
The red claws of despair shredded my heart.
My body felt feverish as tears spilled down my cheeks.
I was something he disposed of without any effort.
Now, he delivered tongue-in-cheek lyrics about our relationship to willing spectators.
My hands covered my mouth as the music ended.
I could barely contain my sobs behind my shaking fingers.
“If anyone tells you relationships are easy, they’re lying. This next new song is called Longing in the Wind,” Summoner announced from the stage.
They’re all about me!
A strangling sense of anxiety overcame me.
“I need to get out of here,” I whispered to Shay.
Without waiting for her response, I bolted out of my seat and out of a side door. The harsh overhead lights were a dizzying contrast to the low auditorium lights.
Lightheaded and blinded by tears, I stumbled down the hall for several feet until my legs collapsed under the weight of my emotions. My chest felt impossibly tight as I sat on the cold, unforgiving cement and cried my eyes out.
I didn’t know how long I had sat there. My sadness distorted time. A familiar voice pierced my cloud of despair. I lifted my head slowly, struggling to focus on the approaching figure.
“Poppy?” the voice called again, filled with concern.
The familiar scent of peppermint covering the lingering scent of weed filled my nose. Wooly crouched beside me and gingerly touched my arm. He was a life raft. I clutched his jean jacket with both hands.
“What’s going on?” he asked softly.
“I-I-I need to get out of here! Please!” I pleaded.
Without hesitation, he sprang into action. “Man, get her up to my room!” he shouted.
Before I could really register what was happening, with help from Wooly’s bodyguards, I was up on my feet, ushered into an elevator, and taken up to his suite. It took all my strength not to fall apart. I neglected to mention my abandoned friend.
A room on the far side of the suite was a bedroom with a queen size bed.
I curled up into a Poppy ball. A bodyguard tiptoed back into the room a moment later with a glass of water, a box of tissues, and a couple of aspirin.
He left everything on the nightstand and let me know Wooly would be up to check on me soon.
Head throbbing, I drowned in my sorrows.
My body was racked by shaking sobs until there was nothing but the blackness of sleep.