Silent Flutter (The Butterfly Series) Page 13

  “We’re here, Babe. What do you think?”

  “What do I think? I think I’ve died and gone to Heaven! What made you think to bring me here?”

  “Well, since you were the last of us to turn twenty-one, you’re the only one who has never gambled before. Five-dollar Texas Hold Em’’ in Callum’s game room doesn’t count,” He added quickly. “Vegas wasn’t really in any of our budgets, but Ville des Lumières is the next best thing.”

  “It’s beautiful. And Amazing. And…Beautiful!” I exclaimed again.

  Once we got all of our bags from the beds of the trucks and made our way through the parking garage we took an elevator into the lobby of the resort. As soon as the doors opened I was entranced by the lights and music and sounds of hundreds of slot machines beeping and singing from the open doors of the nearby casino. I felt drunk with excitement for the night ahead of me. “Let’s check into our rooms, get settled in, and then get back down here and take these innocent people’s money,” He said, pulling me into His side with His arm snug around my shoulder.

  The room seemed lackluster compared the grandeur of the lobby and casino below. We were sharing a room with rest of the group in our truck equipped with two queen-sized beds, a sofa with a pull-out option and a mini-fridge stocked with nine –dollar bottles of water, while the others were staying right next door. Everyone gathered in our room once they put their luggage away and spruced up for the evening. I dug through my bag hoping that I had packed something worthy of such an epic night to come.

  I retreated to the bathroom and changed into my short, black mini skirt, deep magenta, slinky halter top and my low wedged black heels. I fluffed up my blonde curls with my fingertips and sprayed them with just enough hair spray to keep them soft yet bouncy. Once I was happy with my locks, I darkened my eye shadow to give it the smoky look that made my eyes look even bluer, smudged on a thin layer of eye liner and reapplied mascara to my lashes to make them look fresh.

  “What do you think?” I asked as I exited the bathroom.

  “Damn girl, you look hot!” Callum howled.

  “Watch it,” He snapped at His friend, “that’s my girl you’re talking about.”

  “Hey, hey, give a man a break. I haven’t had time to get used to this whole dating thing y’all have got going on now,” Callum explained, pointing his finger at the two of us. “Besides, she’s my friend, too, and she asked. I was just being honest.”

  “You do,” He said walking over to me.

  “I do what?” I asked.

  “You look hot. You look beautiful.”

  “Thanks. You’re not so bad yourself,” I replied, eying Him in His navy pearl snap button down and perfectly fitted jeans. His hair was effortlessly tousled like the night of our non-date and His lips looked absolutely edible. I wrapped my arms around His neck and kissed Him as if we were the only two people in the room. I was quickly reminded that there were ten others standing around watching us; however, when they began making kissy noises and cheering us on.

  “A toast!” June called out, as she dug two bottles of my favorite rum from her overnight bag. “To my little sister. Finally, you’re twenty-fuckin-one!” she shouted.

  Everyone grabbed one of the little plastic cups meant for water and poured themselves a shot of the clear, coconut liquid.

  “Cheers!” we all sang in unison.

  CHOICES

  We all piled into the casino and took off in different directions to find our niche in that stimulating room of opportunities, chances and choices. I chose to start off simple: the nickel slot machines. The first twenty dollar bill that I slipped into the Lucky Seven slot was gone just as fast as I sat down. The waitress wasn’t back with my Rum and Diet Coke yet; though, so I lit up a cigarette and entered another twenty. The drinks were free, but only if you were gambling. On the first pull of my second try at the slots my total went up five dollars, so I pushed all of the necessary buttons and pulled down the little red lever again. Three more dollars up. The waitress arrived with my drink and I tipped her a dollar then focused my attention back to the dancing number 7’s on the screen in front of me. Fifteen more dollars won. “Babe, are you seeing this? I’m winning!” I screeched.

  “Well you’ve already lost twenty, so you’re only up twenty-three bucks. I’d hardly call that winning, Sweetheart.”

  I frowned. Normally when He called me Sweetheart my heart sang with happiness, but that time it felt more like an insult. Condescending even. “Well, I’m new at this, so this is winning to me,” I retorted. “I could be down forty right now, but I’m not. That’s got to count for something right?” I asked playfully, trying to get my mood back up.

  “If you say so. Why don’t you try some real gambling? Black Jack or something?” He asked.

  “I like this game. I want to see if I can get a little more out of this baby,” I said patting the machine, “and if I start to see a decline I’ll cash out.”

  “Those machines are scams. They let you win for a little while so that you’ll keep pumping money into them and then, Bam! All of sudden you’re down a hundred bucks. Come on; let’s go play a real game.”

  I hit the Cash Out button, grabbed my Receipt of Winnings from the slot, and then swallowed back the rest of my drink with one gulp. He grabbed my hand and led me over to a Black Jack table where the rest of the guys were piling up their chips and placing bets in front of the dealer. “Sit. I’ll teach you how to play and we can try and get you some actual winnings. Begrudgingly, I sat next to Callum and traded out my cash for multiple colored chips and listened as He taught me the dos and don’ts of the game: when to split, when to hit, when to stay. It all seemed very boring to me compared to the exciting animations and ringing of the slots.

  After several rounds of Black Jack, I finally decided to walk away. Damn it, He was right. I was up one hundred and twenty dollars from when I first entered the casino. I guess Black Jack was better for my wallet, but I really was enjoying myself at the slots. “You stay and play, I’m going to go find The Girls to see if we have any luck at the Roulette tables,” I told Him as He sat down to take my place. I kissed His cheek and then set off through the crowded, vibrant room to look for my friends…and another drink.

  I didn’t see any of The Girls right away and I accidently left my cell phone up in our room so I made my way over to the bar and sat in front of one of the Video Poker stations knowing that someone would eventually find me. I had heard that if you sat and played the game, then the bartender would keep the drinks coming…on the house. I inserted a ten dollar bill into the countertop machine and dozens of choices popped up on the touch screen: Texas Hold Em’ Classic Single Hand, Double Down Stud Poker, Black Jack Bonus Poker, Deuces Wild Poker, Deuces Wild Bonus Poker, White Hot Aces Poker, Anything’s Wild, Tens or Better and several more that I had never heard of. I selected Texas Hold Em’ since I was fairly familiar with the rules and just as I had been told, the bartender came over to take my order.

  “What’s your poison, Cupcake?” His drawl was thick with Cajun influence.

  I grimaced at the nickname. “Rum and Diet Coke,” I answered. “And the name’s Quinn.”

  “Well, Quinn, I’d say you look like you are in need of something a little stronger than that. Why is a pretty girl like you all by yourself tonight?”

  It was a good question. Why was it that on My night out for My birthday, I was sitting all alone playing Video Poker and chatting with, Randy, bartender of the swamps? “It’s my birthday,” I told him. “Or it was, on Tuesday. I just turned twenty-one so my friends all brought me up here from Texas to get the true gambling experience.”

  “Well happy birthday, Cupcake! Here, have a shot, on the house,” Randy said, pouring a shot glass full of Tequila.

  “Aren’t they always on the house as long as I’m pumping money into one of these machines?” I asked, taking the shot glass into my hands.

  “Well, yeah, but I wanted it to feel like a gift. Like a birthday present,�
� Randy explained through his lopsided smile.

  “Thanks,” I said, just before throwing the hot, clear liquid to the back of my throat.

  Two shots, three Rum and Diet Cokes, and four cigarettes later, June came over and plopped herself on the barstool beside me. She snatched the lighter from in front of me and lit up a cigarette for herself. “I forgot what it feels like to smoke indoors. I feel like I’m doing something wrong,” she giggled. “I tried looking for you in the slots earlier, but I couldn’t find you. So what are you doing over here by yourself, Little Sis? Where’s Loverboy?”

  “He’s playing Black Jack with the boys. Where is everyone else?”

  “The Girls and I found this amazing club, just down the hall. It’s called Ménage à Trois, and it is so much fun. I came in here to peel you away from your boyfriend to get you to join us, but it doesn’t look like I’ll have to do much peeling.”

  “Let me just go find him and tell him where we are going. Maybe he’ll want to join us. Thanks, Randy,” I said, just before leaving a ten dollar tip in his jar and turning to walk back into the crowd in search of my boyfriend.

  “Who the hell is Randy,” my sister asked.

  “He’s my bartender. He hooked me up with free shots and drinks even though I was no longer playing anything on the machine.”

  “Of course he did,” she giggled.

  Ménage à Trois was alive and radiant. Fog machines filled the room with a thick blue smoke and hundreds of neon beams leapt across the dance floor and onto the surrounding walls. The music was upbeat and literally pounding out of the giant speakers placed in the corners of the club. Couples and groups were bouncing rhythmically in the center of the dance floor to the techno vibe of the music, while their clothes and smiles glowed beneath the black lights hanging above.

  I spotted The Girls gathering shots poured into glowing pink and yellow plastic tubes from the bar and carrying them over to a table in the back. “Hello, Love!” Mary squealed. “You are just in time for your birthday shots!”

  I knew my limit on drinks and the thought of another onemade my stomach lurch to my throat.Quinn, it’s your twenty-first birthday. If you aren’t throwing up by the end of this night then you are doing something wrong. Live a little! Inner-me was clearly in the mood for a party: I just wasn’t sure that actual me was. Something felt off. My mind felt like it was in a different place; somewhere else. Maybe it was the alcohol, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. Missing. Oh what the hell, I thought, shaking the thoughts from my head. I grabbed a pink tube from the tray on the table and threw back the purple liquid. “In the words of my good friend here,” I said grabbing Lana and dragging her to my side, “Let’s get this hangover started!” I cheered. The Girls all cheered and clapped and threw back their shots as I was lead to the dance floor by multiple manicured hands.

  We danced and drank. And danced and drank. Until my hair was damp and my ankles and feet were swollen and aching. My stomach was really twisting by two AM, and I couldn’t understand why they hadn’t called for Last Call yet. I also couldn’t figure out why He hadn’t tried to come find me yet.

  When I left Randy’s bar with my sister and found Him in the same spot at the Black Jack table, He seemed completely engrossed in it. I told Him we were going to check out the club and His response was, “that’s more of a girl thing. I’m going to hang here with the guys and maybe try and enter into a poker tournament in a little bit. You go, have fun.” His eyes never left the chips in front of Him. He was impassive, detached even.

  “Oh, ok. Well I’ll see you later then I guess,” I responded to the back of His head.

  “Sure, Babe.”

  I could tell that June was giving me an odd look, but I couldn’t bring myself to meet her stare. I felt embarrassed by His lack of involvement for some reason. It was as if I had talked Him up so much; “He’s so sweet. He’s crazy about me. He’s the only person that has ever truly cared about me. He loves me” that then, standing there with his back to me in complete and utter indifference, I couldn’t help but feel like I had made it all up. Like I was lying to myself.

  “Does this club ever close down?” I shouted above the music.

  “This is Louisiana!” my sister shouted back. “They have different rules than Texas. The clubs don’t shut down until around four AM and the casino is open twenty-four-seven.” The thought of drinking even one more drink made me nauseous, and my feet definitely could not take any more dancing and bouncing. My head was dizzy, my eyesight blurred, my speech was beginning to slur, and I knew it was time to call it a night.

  “I’m going to head up to the room for a little bit,” I lied. “I just need to splash some water on my face, do a little reapplying and then I’ll meet y’all back down here.”

  “Are you feeling okay?” June shouted over the music.

  “Yeah, I’m fine,” I lied again.

  “Ok, well, be careful going up there alone.” I turned away from her and started towards the opening of the club that lead into the hallway of the lobby when I heard her shout again, “Don’t force it Little Sister.”That was an odd thing to say. At the time I had no idea what she meant. I figured it was the booze and maybe even a little delirium brought on by a lack of sleep talking. I shrugged her off and continued towards the exit.

  The elevator was giving me motion sickness and felt like it was taking ages just to go up five floors. I leaned against the cold mirrored wall and it felt good on my flushed cheeks. My eyeliner was caked well below its original place and my lashes were clumped together from the sweat. I’m so glad no one else is here right now to witness the train wreck I’ve become in a matter of hours. Once it finally heaved to a stop and the doors opened up, I fished the plastic key card from my back pocket and wobbled down the hall to room 522. When I entered the room I was blasted with a cold rush from the air conditioner. The smoke-free, fog-free room felt good on my lungs.

  I plopped down on the queen-sized bed nearest the windows overlooking Lake Charles. Something hard and small was digging into my back and interrupting my much needed relaxation. I slid my hand beneath me until I found the cause of my discomfort. It was my cell phone.

  Drunkenly I went through the missed calls and texts. One text from Mom, making sure we made it there ok. One from Mary asking me where the hell I was. I guess she didn’t know that I left my phone in the room. And two missed calls: again, from Mom. It was too late to call her back so I decided to sift through my old messages. An old one from Him asking me how my day was going.Another from Him,Just wanted to say I love you, Sweetheart. One from Tristan telling me my work schedule for the week. Several “Happy Birthday” texts from friends and some from random people that I hardly talked to anymore. And then the one that made me sit up against the headboard and look nervously around the room for any sign of other people.

  Happy birthday QLB. I know it’s been a long time, but I wanted you to know that I was thinking about you today. I hope it’s a good one- J

  The nausea now mixed with the tingling of wings. I never replied, nor did I delete it. I just left it in my Inbox, hoping the answer of what to do would come to me somehow, and in my drunken state, it finally did.

  I know why you texted me. I know you and Erica broke up. You can’t just barge back in and fuck everything up.Send.

  I sat and stared at my phone for what felt like days; hoping he was awake at this ungodly hour. I flipped the screen open and shut dozens of times, watching the door anxiously for someone coming in. Four minutes later my phone beeped and my heart rate sped.

  I’m not sure what you are talking about, Quinn, but I am sure that you are drunk. I saw the Facebook update that you were out tonight and judging by the hour, I’m going to assume that you’ve been drinking. Heavily. Let’s talk about this another time, before you say something that you’ll regret.

  There was that word again—Regret. Who the hell was he to tell me what I would and would not regret? The alcohol seemed to be coursing th
rough my veins at warp speed.

  No, Judd. Let’s get this all cleared up now. Your girlfriend dumped you so you thought you’d come crawling back… For what? A booty call? One Happy Birthday text from you and I’d come jumping into your bed?

  It wasn’t logic, it was emotion. Emotion and pain and sadly, alcohol, were fueling my decisions and my words and everything that my fingers typed out were things that sober me would never have the courage to say. Again I waited. His response took even longer this time. Finally, my phone beeped once more.

  First of all, Q, I dumped her. It was a long time coming, and the fact that it happened the day before your birthday was purely coincidence. I didn’t text you for a booty call. I texted you because I wanted to wish you a happy birthday. I was thinking about you, yes, but not for the reasons that you think.

  Then for what reasons? I responded. For some reason there was a pang in my chest when I realized that it wasn’t because he wanted back in. For a booty call or anything else.

  Seriously, we need to talk about this later. You have been drinking and I don’t want this to be some drunken conversation that you’ll either forget, or like I said, regret. Call me when you get back into town so we can meet up and talk about this like adults.

  Now I just felt insulted. Is he implying that I’m being juvenile? You are! Inner-me chided. The thought of meeting up with him made me feel giddy though. And guilty. Just as I was about to respond, I heard the clicking of a key card in the door, so I slammed my phone shut and rolled over on my side, facing the window with my back to the door. I squeezed my eyes shut and pretended to be asleep, so that whoever was entering would not bother with me.