Page 30 of The Ruin
My mind is made up now. I need to get over my wife.
But that’s easier said than done.
The drink is warming me from head to toe, so I try to take my time with it so I don’t get roaring drunk before I head back up to the room. The last thing I need is to fuel the fire by proving to Brooklyn that I’m the same exact hot mess I used to be.
Checking my watch, I realize the night is still young—it’s not even ten yet. I should give my wife some more time to cool off. Maybe some space is all she really wanted. You never can tell with women.
I guess I could hit the casino floor and try my luck at the tables, or have some fun with the newStar Warsslot machines I saw earlier. Just mentally check out for a few hours, give myself over to some mindless entertainment. The noise and lights and music should do the trick. Maybe I’ll even blow a few thousand, just for the hell of it. If I get drunk enough, I won’t even remember any of this tomorrow.
Yeah, my big plans for a night of gambling and drunken debauchery sound great…until I remember that I have another round of Monica’s photo shoot to supervise tomorrow. Being hungover, or worse, still drunk, won’t win me any favor with Guy.
“What else can I get you?” a perky voice asks.
I snap out of my brooding and see that Skylar has returned. She’s looking at me expectantly, eyes darting between the cocktail napkin she wrote her name on and my face.
“I’m off work in a few minutes,” she adds.
“Just a water, no ice. Thanks.”
A furrow appears between her brows and she hesitates a second before nodding and swishing away in that semi-toga.
“Water? Since when does Luka Zoric drink water?”
Damn. I try to pretend I didn’t hear Monica just now, but the noxious cotton-candy scent of her perfume says she’s too close for me not to acknowledge her.
“Monica. How are you?” I say, wishing I had a legitimate excuse to run.
She slinks her way onto the leather stool across from mine, taking time to adjust the very short skirt of the fire-engine red dress she apparently changed into after dinner. It’s an off-the-shoulder number, her breasts practically spilling out. Not one for subtlety, that Monica.
“You look like you could use some company,” she tells me.
“I’m fine, actually,” I say. “Surprised you don’t have somewhere more exciting to be.”
“Nothing’s more exciting to me than this table right now,” she purrs. “Unless you’re implying that I should be in bed with some hot, wealthy asshole who left his wife at home so he could have a little man-cation, find some arm candy, and gamble his money away.”
Pretty accurate. “That sounds about right.”
“And here you are.” She smiles, spreading her hands. When I don’t return the smile, or the flirtation, she peers more closely at me. “So what happened after you pulled the Irish goodbye with the ice queen? I can tell by looking at you that you two didn’t fuck. You’re way too pouty and high-strung. Losing your magic touch?”
Skylar the toga-wearing waitress returns with my water and asks Monica what she wants, though I notice her tone is significantly cooler than it was when she was taking my order.
“Dirty martini,” Monica says. “On his tab.”
After the waitress leaves I sip my water, wishing it were another whiskey now that Monica is here to monopolize my evening.
“You know, there’s no need to sit here all pent up by your lonesome. We’re in Vegas, after all, and I have my own suite. This is a situation in which friends help each other out.”
“Monica. I’m married.”
She laughs loudly. “Well, I never. It’s a cold day in hell when Luka Zoric doesn’t feel like fucking. God, what has that frigid little wifey of yours done to you?”
It takes all my willpower to keep a disastrous reply from flying out of my mouth. There’s a fine line that I need to walk with her. The Maxilene campaign is going to keep DRM in the black this fiscal quarter, and I can’t risk her walking away from the agency.
But I’m not in the mood for any of her shit, either.
“If you’ll excuse me,” I say, strolling over to the bar to close my tab.
When I return to the table, she’s halfway through her martini already and waiting for me with a smirk. “Are we getting out of here already?” she asks.
