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Nicki
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“I WANT TO SEE THE BELLAGIO Fountains tonight,” I tell Diesel as I button the top button of my jean shorts. “I looked. It’s like a two-mile hike up the strip. I figure we can make a few stops along the way,” I slide my foot into my wedges and watch him pull up his jeans and toss his t-shirt over his head.
“Going commando tonight?” I smack him on the ass and step past to grab my cell phone off the nightstand. With a smirk, he sits to put his sneakers on but takes a moment to look over his shoulder, “Sounds good to me.”
“We’ll pass the Excalibur, MGM, the Miracle Mile Shops, and Planet Hollywood.” I tap the screen to bring the phone to life, “A drink and shot at each stop?” I look up in question. When Diesel stands, he leans in, “Maybe two,” he says with a kiss on my cheek.
We exit the Four Seasons, and the shuttle arrives a moment later. We hop on and take a seat in the middle. “D, Tropicana first?” He nods as the bus makes its way onto the strip. The lights are brightly shining, and it gets me bouncing in my seat with excitement.
*.*.*
Stepping off of the bus, Diesel takes my hand in his and leads us inside. Bells and whistles greet my ears while my eyes go wide. “This is insane!” I tuck my hand into my pocket and grab a twenty-dollar bill rushing over to the first slot machine I see.
The Triple 7’s Red Hot reel spins and nothing, so I bet again and then again. “I’m going behind you,” Diesel says, and I acknowledge with a nod, not taking my eyes from the screen. With yet another tap of my hand, the bonus appears, “Come on,” then another, “come on,” I tap the screen, hoping to help stop the spin and trigger the bonus free spins, “Yes!” I let out and clap my hands.
On the fourth free spin, two red sevens with red hot appear in all three columns, and the machine dings, rings, and alarms go off. “Way to go, Nicki, you hit!” Diesel steps up behind me, and the machine counter continues to rise. “Not bad, spend eighteen and get one hundred and fifty,” I click the pay-out button, tuck the ticket into my pocket, and walk away. “How’d you do?” I ask, maneuvering our way across the room. “Nothing, I’m a loser.” He says and raises his arm for the bartender, “it’s time to drink!”
“Diesel, you are a lot of things. A loser is not one of them.” I hold up my bottle of beer. He clicks his against mine with a smile, and we toast to each other for not being losers.
After a few beers and taking in the room's excitement, we decide to move on to our next stop. It’s nice to relax, bullshit, and not be worrying about anything. I think Diesel was the perfect choice to join me on this trip.
He holds the door open, and we step outside, “Where to next?” he asks with a nod toward the sidewalk. We walk for a few minutes when MGM lights grab my attention. The building is beautiful. Without a word, we continue walking until we are inside, and I make a beeline for the bar. “Two shots of Captain, two beers, please,” I placed a fifty-dollar bill on the bar. We do our shots and scan the room for our next conquest. We walk up and down a few rows with beers in hand, and I stop in front of the Treasure Ball game.
I slide a twenty into the slot and hit spin repeatedly. Before I know it, I’m putting another twenty in, “take it easy, Nicki,” Diesel says in warning. I roll my eyes and press max bet, and with that, the reels spin. The first stops, then the others, and I get the free spins. The top screen plays, and I land on 2. I don’t even know what’s happening when the lady next to me says, “You hit! Nice one!” I’m confused, slightly drunk, and trying to figure out what the fuck is going on.
Diesel is laughing at me but holding onto my shoulder in support. Balls drop down, and bells and whistles blare out.
After the number stops counting, I hit the payout button and stare at the ticket.
Two hundred and thirty-three dollars, “Holy shit!” I shove the ticket into my pocket and jump into Diesel's waiting arms. “This is like beginner's luck. I never win in Atlantic City. You’re my lucky charm!”
Excitement bubbling up inside, I rush to cash in the ticket and have another drink.
We take a few pictures and find our way back onto the strip. My head is already spinning. We probably should have eaten before starting the shenanigans. Diesel waves down a taxi. While we climb in, he tells the driver to take us to Paris.
“You’re taking me to Paris?” I bounce in my seat, and he laughs, “It’s the rooftop bar that overlooks the Bellagio. You said you wanted to see the fountains,” he puts his arm behind my head and hangs his hand over my shoulder. We take a few selfies, some smiling, some silly faces, and one where we are just staring into each other’s eyes. More than a little intoxicated... First, I thought we really were going to Paris. I’m in so much trouble.
The cab stops, and we exit the vehicle, “Across the street,” Diesel points to the left. “Holy fuck!” My head tilts back, and sure as shit, the Eiffel Tower appears. “We’re in Paris.” I sway a little and find my bearings. “Light show starts every thirty minutes, so come on,” Diesel says as he walks us up the stairs.
We find a place to sit in the beer park and order our drinks. Diesel adds an order of chips with salsa, fries, and onion rings, “You should eat something.” I roll my eyes. He knows me so well. Then we turn to enjoy the light show.
