Page 76 of Releasing the Gods
I laughed. “Then there’s no better place for her to be than Vegas. This is one happening place, always filled with people, and a glitz and glamour that hides a seedy underbelly.” My eyes swept across the scene again.
Cronus was getting a lot of looks as we stood there. Partially because we were still covered in dirt and grime from Egypt, but mostly he was over six-and-a-half-feet of gorgeous Titan, and Vegas was the place to find a rando and spend one night of pleasure with them.
Hopefully waking up unmarried.
“We should move before I have to start fighting the women off,” I said, rolling my eyes as I marched along. “We need a room and clothes for tonight. Her show is popular and likely sold out, so I think we need to splurge on a penthouse and hope the concierge can hook us up with some tickets.”
Cronus had no idea what I was talking about, but he didn’t argue and I was glad. I knew how this shit worked in these places. It was the smaller, condensed version of Instagram. Flashing money and faking everything. Including orgasms.
Not that I’d ever done that.#Cough #Lies #CoughCoughBesides I’d never stayed in a penthouse before and I’d probably not have the chance again without Mr. Gold Dick Bars here.
I’d been to Vegas only once with a friend from work who’d been supposed to get married, but then her fiancé ran off with their florist. Their male florist. She’d brought me out instead and we’d spent most of the trip drunk and window shopping. I’d vowed to make it back again soon, but I’d never expected it would be under these circumstances.
We passed a small white chapel, and Cronus stared at the lineup of couples out the front, some of them swaying on the spot, others bouncing excitedly as they waited their turn.
“They’re getting married…?” He seemed confused. “On the street?”
I laughed. “Yeah, people get married here all the time. Often by Elvis.”
He probably had no idea who Elvis was, and with a shake of his head turned back to the street. Most people got out of his way, and mine too, as a thankful side effect of standing in his shadow.
“We should stay here,” I said, pointing to a huge, luxurious hotel. Last time I’d been here it had been the fanciest on the Strip, but I knew a lot of new resorts had sprung up since then. Either way, this would do.
“Got any of those gold dick bars left?” I asked Cronus.
The smallest of smiles played at the corner of his lips. “Yes.”
“Great!”
If there was one place in the world we could cash a gold bar pulled from his pants, it was Vegas.
Thirty minuteslater and forty thousand dollars richer, we were back at the hotel, and now in possession of a penthouse for the night. The VIP concierge who personally cared for our suite was more than happy to find us tickets to Jessell’s sold-out show.
For some monetary compensation of course.
“What about backstage passes or private shows?” I pressed. “Does Jessell ever make an exception for … a higher price?”
I needed him to say yes; otherwise my Titan was going to cause a scene that evacuated the entire building, all so he could get his hands on this seer who had betrayed him and sent him into a dank gray prison for a thousand years.
“I’m not sure,” the concierge squeaked, looking flustered. His slicked-back brown hair almost had a strand come loose in his agitation. “I’ll find out and get back to you asap.”
He hurried off, after I’d paved the way with some Benjamin Franklins, and I turned around and explored the penthouse, because why the hell not. Probably be the one and only time I could say I’d stayed this lux in Vegas.
Cronus perched himself against the window, staring out at the world below, and I ran through the three bedrooms, the bowling alley, the corner bar suite, and the huge private pool and Jacuzzi. “Well, shit,” I said softly, “the other half lives nice.”
Really nice.
But if I had to choose, I’d still rather spend gold dick bars on saving my whales and other marine life. This had been a necessity so we could get the private concierge service to get the tickets … so I wouldn’t feel too guilty … but not gonna lie, I was liking it. Still, tomorrow I would talk to Cronus about donating at least a grand to my favorite dolphin charity.
A knock sounded on the door and I rushed over to find a smartly dressed woman, her dark suit designer, blond hair slicked back from her sharp, angular features. “Hello, Mrs. Parker. We have procured both backstage passes for Jessell’s show and appropriate clothing,” she said. Her eyes were a dark blue, piercing as they assessed me like I was some sort of bug. I could tell she was wondering how I’d managed to afford the penthouse, and it was only when Cronus left his perch, silently crossing to stand at my side, that she seemed satisfied.
Like I was only here because the god of a man at my side paid for me.
Fuck you, lady. You’re right on the money, but no one needed to be judged this early in the morning.#Yeah #Okay #ItWasAlmostNight #ButStill
Cronus took the garment bags, all ten of them, and an envelope that she handed over, letting her fingers drag slowly across his. The giant oaf didn’t even seem to notice her change in attitude. Another hundred bucks on her flirting with him in three … two … on—
“I can extend your stay a few nights for a comped price,” she purred at Cronus, shifting closer. “We value guests such as yourself.”
