On the Rocks Page 11

  It wasn’t about to happen, though. The very first day, Brian called me. “Any plans for the next few days?”

  Now that my parents lived in Hawaii and CJ and I weren’t together, I didn’t have plans other than to check on my place and sleep as much as possible. It was nice hearing Brian, though, because my mind had been drifting to thoughts of my kind-of ex-boyfriend more and more. “Not really. Why?”

  “Ever been to Vegas?”

  “Had a show there once.”

  “That’s it?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Then we’re goin’.”

  “Just like that?”

  “Just like that. Tickets are cheap if we fly tonight.”

  “Tonight?”

  “Well, technically, no. The red eye. We’d be leaving early morning—but we’ll be there before sunup. Then we have all day and all night to party Vegas-style.”

  I got ready to protest and tell him half a million reasons why I shouldn’t. But then I thought of CJ again and knew I needed a change of scenery. “When do I need to be there?”

  “Thatta girl. You should come to my place first and we’ll go from there.”

  Little did I know that what happens in Vegas does not always stay in Vegas.

  Chapter Seventeen

  BRIAN AND I went grocery shopping and made Chinese food at his house. He was an amazing cook, and I never would have guessed it. We watched a movie after, but then he said we had to get to bed “immediately or we’ll oversleep when we should be catching a plane!”

  So I slept on his couch. In his usual smart ass fashion, he sat on the edge of the sofa after locking the door to his apartment, and he pulled the sheet up to my chin. “Sleep tight, little Kyle. Sweet dreams, honey.” He brushed the hair off my forehead and then kissed me there. “Do you want me to get you a teddy bear to cuddle up with?”

  “Oh, would you?”

  He grinned. “I don’t think you’d like any of the teddies I’d find around here.” He stood. “Night, kid.”

  “Hey, Brian.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Why do you live in this dinky little apartment? You could have a fucking mansion.”

  He chuckled. “Yeah, but I’m on the road ten months out of the year. I’d be paying a fortune for a house I never lived in. Don’t worry. The money’ll be there when I have more time to enjoy a house.”

  I had no room to talk. I still lived in an apartment too, but his seemed…cheap. “Night, Brian.”

  “Hey,” he said, pausing at the door to his bedroom as he switched off the living room light. I couldn’t really see his face, because the light from his bedroom was only lighting him from behind. “Thanks for coming with me, Kyle.”

  “Why wouldn’t I?”

  He started laughing. He’d had a serious tender moment there and now he was going to blow it off. Brian was one of the sweetest guys I knew, but he didn’t like to be serious very often, and it made me wonder if he was hiding something, like some old heartbreak. “‘Cause you haven’t found out yet that I’m gonna make you pay for everything.”

  “Go to bed before I change my mind.” Almost under my breath but loud enough for him to hear, I said, “Dick.”

  He snickered and then said, “Would you rather sleep in my bed and I can crash on the couch?”

  “I’d rather just sleep…if you’d shut up and let me.”

  “Fine.”

  I started laughing. “G’night.”

  “Night.”

  But it seemed like just a few minutes later, he was waking me up, telling me we had to leave. I got up and showered but was still feeling groggy. As we wheeled our luggage to my car downstairs (I insisted upon driving), I said, “You better hope we’re leaving early enough, ‘cause I need a Starbucks before we get to the airport.”

  “I’m pretty sure they have a Starbucks there.”

  “I want one now.”

  He chuckled but gave me directions to the nearest one before we went to the airport. But what a dumb ass I was. It was way too early morning…and they were closed. “Shit.”

  “Guess you’ll have to have regular coffee, huh?”

  “Or maybe I’ll just sleep on the plane.”

  “That’s a better idea, ‘cause once we land, I’m keeping you busy all day long.”

  So, after hanging around the airport, checking in and then waiting, once we were settled on the plane, I tried my best to get comfy and dozed off. Two hours later, we were picking up our luggage and making our way outside.

  “Holy shit. It’s fucking hot here.”

  “It’s the desert.”

  “God. Why do people live here?”

  Brian grinned. “You’ll have to ask them.” A cab driver pulled up to the curb and caught Brian’s chin nod. He took my luggage out of my hands before I could say a word and was throwing it in the back. Brian followed him and handed the guy his bags too.

  In seconds, we were sitting in the back of the air-conditioned taxi protected from the stifling heat. “The Hard Rock?”

  “Yeah,” Brian said and then looked over at me. “You ever stay there?”

  “No.”

  “Goddamn, girl. Are you in for a treat. It’s a rock lover’s dream.”

  The cab driver hauled ass, whizzing onto the freeway but in just a couple of minutes, we were back on city streets and in the thick of traffic—signal lights, pedestrians, and bumper-to-bumper. But the driver was a pro. At one point, he started honking his horn, yelling at a guy on foot to get out of the way. I raised an eyebrow and looked at Brian. He was just grinning from ear to ear.

  Ah. Las Vegas was the guy’s home away from home.

  It was less than five minutes later that the driver was pulling up to the hotel. “HRH?”

  “Yeah.”

  And then he pulled into a garage away from the main entrance. We got out and got our bags from the driver while Brian fished out money for the ride and a tip. The driver smiled wide and said, “Enjoy your stay in Sin City, folks.”

  If I could stay out of the heat…

  We walked inside and I was blown away. Yeah, sure, it was nice and cool inside, but it was really cool. All the rock memorabilia everywhere took my breath away. I paused so I could read plaques and stare at displays for some of my biggest idols like Kurt Cobain. “C’mon, kid. You can look at all this shit later. I promise I’ll take you on a tour.”

  “Okay.”

  “Yeah. Wait’ll you see the Sully Erna drum display.”

  “No fucking way.”

  “Way. This place is a goddamn museum. But let’s check in first.”

  After registering at the desk and getting our key cards, we were heading up the elevator (which also required our cards). I was used to nicer hotels, sure, because we were sometimes treated like royalty, but—more often than not—I was used to places that were merely a bed and shower. This place reeked luxury.

  When we walked in our room, I was blown away. There were wall-to-wall windows on one side and a small living area, rock memorabilia on all the walls in there too. I could see the palm trees outside and they were dwarfed by the tower we stood in. The coolness of the room disguised how hot I knew it was out there, and the sun bleached the landscape. Inside, though, I was happy and light. I glanced around the small partition—a small wall with a huge TV—to see two queen beds…and one was calling my name. I ran over to it and jumped on it. “Shit. This is comfy.”

  “Don’t settle in, Summers. We have a city to take in.”

  I glanced over at the bathroom—the walls were all glass. If I had been there with CJ, it might have been cool, but I was wondering exactly how that was going to work. “Uh, Brian…”

  He looked over and laughed. “Oh, yeah.”

  “How’s this gonna work exactly? You gonna leave the room every time I need to pee?”

  “I can hang in the living room.”

  Yeah…I wasn’t convinced. Showering or bathing might not be so bad, but everything else made me uncomfortable as hell.
Even talking about it made me feel weird—and I usually didn’t let shit like that bother me. I figured it was because I was tired. So I shrugged and tucked my suitcase in a corner. “It’s a nice place.”

  “Cool, huh?”

  “Yeah.”

  “So…let’s go downstairs and get a bite to eat; do a little gambling; have a few drinks; and then explore the shit out of this museum. Then we’ll walk the Strip tonight when it’s cool. You ain’t seen Vegas till you’ve seen the Strip at night.”

  “All right.” I glanced down at my Ratt t-shirt and ripped-up jeans. “Should I change first?”

  He laughed. “You’re in the Hard Rock Hotel, Kyle. You are rock. You really think you need to change?”

  I grinned. “Well, when you put it that way…”

  “Damn straight. Let’s go.” We stopped at a slot machine while perusing all the memorabilia on the ground floor before locating a restaurant. And, before you know it, we both had a mixed drink in hand. Yes, at noon. It was an hour later that we were actually eating. We both had a burger and fries, but I didn’t have room for it all. And I wanted to explore more. “Now you’ve got the idea.”

  I did indeed.

  But we kept drinking.

  A lot.

  I got hammered and fast. Brian wasn’t feeling any pain either, and before I knew it, things got really fuzzy.

  And I woke up the next morning, half naked in bed next to Brian.

  Married.

  * * *

  I lay there on the bed, struggling to think past the pounding in my skull. What freaked me out first was that I was in the same bed as Brian. I didn’t remember any hanky panky, but how could I explain the fact that I was naked from the waist down?

  And the second thing…yeah. Holy shit. The memories all came crashing in like a tidal wave. Brian and I had gotten married last night.

  What the hell had we been thinking?

  I looked over at him. He was out cold. Yeah, I was still pretty sure we hadn’t consummated the union. Surely, I would have remembered that if nothing else.

  I sat on the edge of the bed holding my head and decided to use the facilities before he woke up…and then I let my mind drift back in time so I could piece together exactly how it had all gone down.

  Sometime mid-afternoon, Brian and I were drinking and playing blackjack, and Brian said, “We need to do something in Vegas that I’ve never done before.”

  “What would that be?”

  “I dunno. I’ve done a lot.”

  The dealer asked, “You ever get married in Vegas?”

  Brian started laughing. “No. That’s one thing I’ve never done.”

  And also never let it be said that Kyle Summers had never had too much to drink. “Oh, shit, Brian, we totally should.”

  “What—you and me?”

  “Yeah. That would totally freak everyone out.”

  He started laughing again and then I did too, and we lost that round to the house. We played a little longer and then he said, “That would be hilarious…but you can’t just get married. There’s all kinds o’ hoops you have to jump through.”

  The dealer placed three cards face down, one for each of us, followed by one card face up. She said, “Actually, it’s easy in Vegas.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah. You fill out an online form, pick up your license, and then go to any one of the chapels in town. Boom. Done.”

  A sly grin slid over Brian’s face and he raised his eyebrows before giving me a sidelong glance. “Your card’s a queen and mine’s a king. What are the odds of that?”

  I started giggling, something I never did…but the alcohol was talking. “Are you superstitious, Mr. Zimmer?”

  He wiggled his eyebrows, grin still plastered on his face, and he lifted his bottom card just enough to peek. He said to the dealer, “I’m gonna stay.” Then he looked at me. “If I win this hand, you wanna do it?”

  I took a deep breath and had a thought, no matter how fleeting it might have been. Vegas marriages weren’t real, were they? Couldn’t you back out of them in twenty-four hours or something…kind of like buyer’s remorse?

  Poof. Gone was the thought as my mouth took over. “You’re on.” I looked at the dealer, who had an eight of spades as her top card. I peeked and saw that I had a four of hearts. “Hit me.”

  Oh, she did…and she gave me a ten of clubs, which made me lose that hand. “Aw, shit!” I said, a little too loud—I know, because passersby turned to look. “I’m over,” I said, pushing my cards toward the center.

  The dealer and Brian revealed their hands. The dealer had a jack of diamonds, giving her a total of eighteen, but Brian had a perfect hand. He had the ace of spades…which meant he had a blackjack and also meant he won. He started shouting and jumping up and down, and he picked me up and twirled me around. I’m surprised I didn’t throw up, because I was already several sheets to the wind. “Let’s go get hitched!” he said, trying on a fake Southern accent.

  I was too busy laughing and giggling to really give it much thought.

  “Sir. Sir?”

  Brian placed me on my feet and turned around. The dealer was holding out some chips. “You won, sir.”

  “Eh.” He shook his head. “Keep it as a tip.”

  The dealer’s eyes grew wide. “Are you sure?”

  “Yep. It’s yours.”

  She smiled. “Thanks so much.”

  Brian grabbed my hand and wound our way through the hotel back to the tower. I was lost until I saw the motorcycles in the front lobby area, but before I could orient myself, Brian turned and took us down a hall until we were entering the lobby area to our tower. Once we were on the elevator heading up to our floor, he said, “I can’t believe we’re gonna do this.”

  I started laughing again. It just didn’t seem real.

  It still didn’t when we sat in our hotel room and Brian got out his laptop. “You brought your computer with you?”

  “You never know when you’re gonna need it. Like now.” It wasn’t much longer before he was asking me to fill out my information.

  “Your middle name’s Surrender?”

  I shrugged and looked over at him. “Hippie parents.” I turned back to the screen, concentrating on typing out my information. “You’ve never met my mom and dad, have you?”

  He shook his head. “No. But you’ve never met mine either.”

  “Guess we’re even.”

  After a few seconds, he said, “Hold up, Kyle. It says your name has to exactly match your ID. Is your middle name on your driver’s license?”

  “Hell if I know.” I pulled my tiny wallet out of my back pocket and fumbled around, trying to get it open…which led to another giggling fit. I finally laid on the huge sectional sofa and let Brian fill out the stupid form. I drifted off but he was waking me up soon enough.

  “You ready?”

  “We really gonna do this?”

  “Why not?”

  We slammed a drink off the minibar in the room and my memory gets a little fuzzy for a while, but it picks up with us arriving at the county clerk’s office after dark—and they were still open! All we had to do was present our IDs and give them some cash and we were walking out the door to the cab that was still waiting for us.

  Brian had a shit ton of cash. I was impressed.

  I still don’t remember how we got there or where exactly we went, but next thing I knew, I was wearing a veil and chanting some wedding vows.

  Holy shit. It was real. It was fucking real.

  But I couldn’t remember last night after we left the chapel. I was still pretty sure we hadn’t had sex. And that was good, because that would make the marriage easy enough to annul, I thought. I just had to wait for Brian to wake up.

  Chapter Eighteen

  BRIAN WAS AWAKE less than an hour later, and that was no doubt thanks to my constant motion. I opened the drapes in the living area (which spilled over into the sleeping area) and paced like a motherfucker.

  Don
’t ask how a motherfucker paces. Just know that I was doing it that way.

  He called my name first and then, when he sat up, he blinked his eyes several times. “What time is it?”

  Never mind the clock beside the bed. “A little after eleven.”

  “Oh, shit.”

  I neared the bed but didn’t sit down. “Brian…I’m pretty sure we, uh, got married last night.”

  He looked confused at first. “So that wasn’t just some weird dream.”

  “No.”

  “Dude, I gotta piss so bad, I’m pretty sure my eyes are turning yellow. Can we hold that thought?”

  I couldn’t help but smirk. “Sure.”

  He got up and I noticed that he too was nude from the waist down, so I avoided looking. Okay, mostly. He had a really cute ass. But I got up and walked into the living area so he could have a little privacy, even though I got the idea that he wouldn’t have cared one way or another. When he joined me, he had pulled on a pair of jeans.

  Jesus. I’d known Brian had a crap ton of tattoos on his chest and upper arms, but seeing them without his shirt and up close was amazing. Pictures couldn’t do his body art justice.

  Yeah…he was a hot guy from top to bottom. I just wasn’t attracted to him. At all.

  He grabbed two bottles of water off the minibar before sitting diagonal from me on the sectional sofa. “So…we’re married?” I shrugged. “For reals?” He handed me one of the bottles of water and stood again. “If we really got married, wouldn’t…?” His voice drifted off and he sat down. I hoped he’d stay there, because his constant up-and-down was making me nervous. “Hold up. Yeah. I remember.”

  I nodded. “Yeah.” I opened the bottle and chugged half the bottle. It felt good in my mouth that was as parched as the Nevada desert. “So how the hell do we annul it…or do we have to get divorced?”

  He had half a frown on his face. “Man, just when I was thinking this was cool. I was trying to imagine how many guys out there were gonna be jealous as hell.”

  And then it dawned on me. Maybe Brian had really wanted to marry me. Unlike CJ, who didn’t even want to acknowledge that we’d had a real relationship, Brian had seemed to like the idea of being my guy.