The responses to our ads come in quickly and in droves. The bed frame is sold before we even take a break for dinner. By the time we go to bed, he’s had half a dozen inquiries about the dining room set, and when we pause between fucking and going to sleep, the dining room set and the marble table are sold.
While Max is at his job interviews the next day, I drive back to the storage unit to meet the buyers for the bigger pieces. The tables and chairs are gone by ten, but of course, the couple coming to get the bed are delayed. Fortunately, there’s a diner across the street, so I text them and let them know I’ll wait for them there.
As I walk into the place, I suppress a snicker. I’m used to cheesy places that try way too hard. That’s basically the definition of Las Vegas. If it should be tall, make it taller. If it should be loud, make it louder. If it needs a couple of lights, cover it in thousands of them and make sure they blink and are visible from space.
And even I’m a little taken aback by this place.
The restaurant is probably the size of your average Denny’s. In fact, I think it was a Denny’s in a past life. I have no idea how they fit this much chrome inside one building, but there it is, gleaming on every surface. The staff must tear their hair out trying to keep it clean—I swear I left fingerprints on the hostess stand just by looking at it from five feet away.
The wait staff and cooks are all dressed like they just walked out of a bad 1950s movie. Short skirts. Paper hats. The works. Lucky this isn’t a drive-in or they’d probably have to wear roller skates.
It’s cheesy and ridiculous but kind of charming too, and the sizzle of burgers on a grill makes my mouth water. I’m going to need to find a gym around here where I can do a “trial membership” if I want to fit into my clothes when I go home. Especially when it’s time to dance.
Then again, I’ve been doing plenty of cardio with Max, so I decide that’s enough and don’t feel the least bit guilty ordering a deluxe bacon cheeseburger with cheese-smothered fries.
While I wait for the food, I gaze out the window. There isn’t much to see from here. The three-story storage facility, of course. A gas station. Some fast food place I’ve never heard of. In the distance, the hazy outline of some mountains tells me I’m facing east. More or less looking at Vegas, now that I think about it.
It’s going to be weird to go back. I’ve lived there my whole life, and going home has always felt like…going home. I’m sure it will this time too. My house, my jobs, my friends, my fish—they’re all there. Some family too, though Mom and Dad moved to Phoenix and my brother is in some town I can’t pronounce in Pennsylvania. But it’s basically home. Even when I go visit my parents, I never feel weird when I leave to come back to Vegas. I miss them, and I wish we all lived closer, but there’s never that feeling that I’m leaving for the last time.
Ah. That’s it. When I drive out of Los Angeles, I have no idea if I’ll be coming back. Or if I do, I don’t know if it’ll be to see Max.
I’m not quite as hungry all of a sudden. I debate canceling my order, but I do need to eat. Max has enough to worry about, and he doesn’t need to deal with a hangry Adrian.
Still, my stomach’s all wound up in knots now. I’m being stupid and I know it. Max is getting his life back on track. I’m just here to help out with some of the nuts and bolts. And yeah, I’m here for some more of that amazing sex. This is temporary, though.
I’ve been on this mental wheel since last night, and no matter how much I rationalize and try to tell myself I just want to help him, the fact is, I want him. If we lived in the same city, I would absolutely want to date him. Not that I have high hopes about it being mutual. When he’s down on his luck and homeless, yeah, he can probably cope with a stripper for a fuck buddy. Once he’s on his way back to respectable…
My stomach knots even tighter.
Of course the waitress picks that exact moment to bring my lunch. And dear God, that is an awesome-looking bacon cheeseburger. It isn’t one of those unnaturally perfect round patties, either. It’s got all the rough edges of one that was made by hand. The fries? Steak fries. Dripping in melted cheddar, not some of that liquid crap. Oh fuck yes.
Though my gut is still angsting over Max, it doesn’t object to a bite of hot, greasy burger with exactly the perfect amount of ketchup, mustard, pickles, and cheese. I take back everything I said about this place trying too hard. Their décor is over the top, but their food redeems every molecule of chrome.
While I eat, I try to be a little more objective about the way things are with Max.
I’m kidding myself if I think there’s a future here. We come from two very different worlds, and not just because we’re on opposite sides of the Sierra Nevadas. He has degrees and colleagues and potential for promotions. I deal cards and take off my clothes for a living. He’ll probably get bonuses and a company car. I get tips and propositions.
Would he really want to tell people about me? It’s not just because I’m a sex worker or a lowly card dealer. Max has his pride. I can’t imagine he’ll get all that nostalgic about telling the story of how we met, since it means mentioning the part where I found him on the street with a cardboard sign.
I sigh as I drag a fry through some ketchup that dripped off my burger. Whether I like it or not, I’m part of a period in Max’s life that I’m guessing he isn’t going to want to brag about. Once he has a job and a place, he’ll be smart to do everything he can to put this all behind him. Including me. The sooner I make peace with that, the easier it’ll be to get in the car, point it toward Vegas, and go back to my own life when this is over.
In the meantime, I’ll help him as much as I can. And I’ll enjoy the time I do get to spend with him.
And hey—at least this burger tastes good.
I’m at the hotel when Max gets back. From the way he’s smiling as he lets himself in, the interviews must have gone well.
I close my laptop and set it on the nightstand. “So? How did it go?”
“I’m not sure about the first one.” He loosens his tie as he toes off his shoes. “The second one seems promising, though. It’s someone I’ve worked with before, so at least she knows I’m not a complete fuck-up.”
“That is promising.” I swing my legs over the side of the bed. “What happens next?”
He shrugs off his coat and drapes it over the chair by the TV. “Now… I wait. If someone wants a second interview, they’ll call.” He pauses. “You, um, don’t mind that I gave them your cell, do you?”
“No, of course not. I mean, it won’t do them much good after I go back to Vegas, but if someone calls after I leave, I’ll let you know.”
Max smiles. He hooks his fingers in my belt loops and tugs me closer to him. “Thank you. I really appreciate it.”
“I know.” I lift my chin and kiss him lightly. Then I reach into my pocket and take out my wallet. “By the way, here’s the cash for the furniture.” I hand him the wad of bills. “Almost two grand, all told.”
He stares at the money. “Whoa.” Then he laughs and shakes his head as he takes out his wallet. “You know, a year ago, I wouldn’t have thought twice about dropping two grand on a TV or a custom suit. Now?” He slides the money into his weathered billfold. “Feels like I hit the lottery.”
“I can’t even imagine.”
“You don’t want to. Trust me.” He pauses, then clears his throat. “Anyway. I should check on the eBay auctions. See if anything else is—”
“There were a few more Buy It Nows earlier. There’s about two hundred in your PayPal account.” I swear, as soon as I say the words, his eyes almost start to well up. I touch his arm. “Looks like you’re on your way to back on your feet.”
“Yeah. Little by little.” He smiles. “If I get one of these jobs, then all of this should be enough to tide me over until the first paycheck comes through.” His eyes lose focus for a few long seconds, but his brow is creased like he’s deep in thought, so I don’t say anything. Finally, he sighs, rubbing his hand over his face. “My God. I might actually get my shit together.”
“Well, my fingers are crossed for one of the jobs.”
“Mine too.” He puts a hand on my waist and gently draws me in. “You know, when I decided not to get on the bus out of Vegas and came to find you, it was because I wanted to buy you dinner. I still haven’t done that.”
“It’s okay. You should probably hold on to whatever you have until things level out.”
He tucks my hair behind my ear. “I should, yeah. But I think I can spare enough to take you out. After everything you’ve done, it’s the least I can do.”
I’ve long since accepted that he’s hell bent on paying me back, so I know better than to fight it. “Okay. But nothing crazy, all right?” I realize a second too late that might not be the thing his wounded pride needs to hear, so I add, “All I brought are jeans and T-shirts. So nothing that requires a coat.”
Max laughs, and there’s a hint of relief. I think he knows exactly why I backpedaled. He presses a kiss to my forehead. “I think I know a place you’ll like.”
I balk as soon as I see the restaurant. There’s no way this is within his budget, and we’re both definitely underdressed for it. It’s got that high-class exterior with the awnings over the windows and the fancy gold lettering above the doors. The kind of place that would let anyone in off the street in Vegas but probably not here in Los Angeles.
And the kind of place where everything costs a damn fortune.
“Max.” I shake my head as we walk from the car up the block. “That place is way too—”
“Trust me.” He puts his hand on the small of my back for just a second. “It’s not as high-brow as it looks.”
I shoot him a glance, still not convinced.
We stop outside the door, and there’s a menu behind glass so passersby can peruse it before committing to a seat. It’s a mix of European cuisines—mostly Mediterranean with a smattering of French and even a couple of German dishes—and the descriptions sound amazing. To my surprise, the prices aren’t too bad either. Maybe more than I’d spend if I were in Max’s situation, but we’re not going to put him out on the street again if we order dessert. And judging by the couple in shorts and T-shirts who brush past us, the dress code is pretty lenient too.
“Okay.” I try and fail to suppress a smile. “We’ll give it a try.”
“I thought you might see things my way.” He gestures for me to go in ahead of him, and we step into a lobby that’s filled with the rich scents of garlic and at least half a dozen herbs I can’t name. One whiff, and I decide I’ll pay if need be, but we are absolutely eating here.
The hostess shows us to a table for two. Despite how inexpensive and obviously relaxed this place is, it certainly doesn’t look the part. The tablecloths are white linen, and little tea lights flicker next to the salt and pepper shakers. The menus are bound in what I assume is fake leather, but they don’t look cheap or chintzy.
There’s a large wine list on the table and a pair of wineglasses next to each place setting. It occurs to me now that we never discussed if dinner included wine. Inexpensive or not, I really don’t want to add the price of a bottle or even a glass to the bill if he’s paying it. So I don’t touch the wine list. Neither does he.
Our waiter comes and takes our order. Max gets the shrimp fettuccini, and I get the carbonara. We both order iced teas. The waiter leaves with our menus and the wine list, and I’m admittedly relieved that no one mentions wine.
“I’m guessing you know this place?” I ask once we’re alone.
Max nods. “Used to come here whenever I was in this part of town. I don’t know how they stay in business when it’s so expensive in this city, but they’ve been here for years.”
My stomach knots suddenly. “This is an expensive city, isn’t it?”
“God, yeah. It’s brutal.”
I’m not sure what to say. There’s a question on the tip of my tongue, but I really don’t want to kill the mood. Or, well…more than I’ve already killed it just by thinking of the stupid question.
“Adrian?” Max folds his forearms on the edge of the table. “You got quiet all of a sudden.”
“Yeah, I…” Fuck.
Right then, the waiter materializes with our drinks and a basket of breadsticks. I can hear my trainer’s voice screaming in the back of my mind about carbs and how I’m not going to the gym right now and all of that, but goddamn if those breadsticks don’t smell like baked heaven.
I take one from the basket and tear it in half. It’s too hot to eat. So much for using a full mouth as an excuse not to speak right away. Staring down at the steaming bread in my hands, I say, “I guess… I mean, L.A. is super expensive. Have you thought about going to another city to get started again?”
“Not really. Los Angeles has been home for so long, I can’t imagine living anywhere else.”
I expected that, but the lead ball of disappointment in my stomach happens anyway. “I guess I can understand that. I don’t think I could live outside of Vegas.”
“Really?”
I nod. “Been there my whole life. Bought a place and everything.”
His eyebrows flick up. “You bought the place?”
“Yeah.” I try not to let my defensiveness show. “Look, I know it’s not the most glamorous place in the—”
“No, no.” He waves his hand. As he reaches for a breadstick, he says, “I just hadn’t realized you’d bought it. Seems like a smart investment, actually.”
The defensiveness recedes a little bit. “It does?”
“Well yeah. Compared to renting, definitely. Your mortgage payment goes toward something you could sell later if you were so inclined.” He shrugs. “So yeah, I think it’s smart.”
I swallow. “It’s… I don’t actually have a mortgage payment. I paid the place off a couple of years ago.”
“No shit?”
“Yeah. I bought it when the market tanked, so I got it for like half what it’s actually worth. Threw as much money as I could at it for like six or seven years, and now it’s paid off.”
“That’s amazing. I should have done that with my condo.” With a touch of bitterness, he adds, “My situation would be very, very different if I had. You’re smart.”
I shrug. “Not really. I just knew a lot of people who lost their shirts when the market crashed, so I was scared to be in debt. My rent kept going up, so I figured it made sense to buy something. At least this way, if I lose one of my jobs—or both of them—I still have a place to live, and I still have a car.”
“Car’s paid off too?”
“Yep.”
He whistles, then laughs again. “You’re definitely better at this than I am. I bought the condo, a brand new car, and then a brand new sports car on top of it. That’s why everything fell apart after I lost my job. I couldn’t afford to keep up on the mortgage. The bank repossessed the sports car, and after they foreclosed the condo, I had to sell the other car just so I could eat.” His expression darkens. “That’s…how I ended up in Vegas. I sold the car, and with the money I got from that, plus what I had left, I could either scrape by for a few more months or go blow it all and go out on a high.” He picks up his glass. “I’d be in a lot better financial straits if I’d done things your way.”
And I wouldn’t know you.
I’m instantly mortified by my own thought. I’m glad we crossed paths, but if I had the power to go back and change things, I’d absolutely rather he’d stayed on level ground instead of coming to Vegas in the first place. Meeting him was a razor-thin silver lining around a violently destructive storm.
But if that storm had to happen, I won’t apologize for being thankful for that silver lining.
I take a swallow of iced tea. “Live and learn, right?” It’s stupid, but I don’t know what else to say.
Max smiles. He holds my gaze and quietly says, “Yeah. Live and learn.”