Chapter 8

WELLS

Jonas gets married in two months and with everything going on with the wedding and our family, I don't think I'll make it to Vegas next month for my weekend check-in. So I need this month's trip to count and get all my shit done.

As I'm preparing to board the plane, I decide to text Opal one more time.

I've texted her every now and then as I've made the trip to Vegas and back and just to check in to make sure she's okay. Nothing. It's been five months and not one word from her even though I've tried. Not as much as I did that first month but I would like to see her again.

Pulling out my phone, I pull up her name in my contacts and type out what I can only describe as pathetic for a man my age.

Me- Hey Opal, it's me again. I'm not trying to bother you, but I'll be in town this weekend and am hoping we can run into one another again. Maybe have a repeat of last time.

I immediately regret my choice of words. Christ, I sound like a teenager trying to score a first date. Someone could make billions if they invented a way to unsend texts like you can with messages on social media. Oh well, it's out there now and I doubt I'll hear back, so she'll read it, roll her eyes at my patheticness, and go about her life.

As I take my seat, I buckle up and queue up my in-flight movie. Hopefully, when I land, I can get my car and head straight to the hotel so there's no wasted time and I can get right to work. I need to find a new manager for Luxe and a new head bartender at Element. I have a few interviews lined up for the manager position first. If I find a good fit, I hope they can sit in on the interviews for head bartender of the other club and give me their thoughts. It's a good way for me to get a feel for them right off the bat.

The movie plays and I watch mindlessly as I go through my mental checklist. The longer the movie plays, the heavier my eyes get, so I close them to rest for a minute. I'm startled awake when the pilot announces our descent.

I need to piss something fierce, so I'm glad we're going to be on land and off this plane soon. The onboard bathrooms aren't built for men my size. I avoid using them at all costs.

The landing is smooth and I grab my briefcase from under the seat in front of me as soon as we're free to unbuckle. As I walk off the plane and pass the flight attendant, she winks, slipping a small piece of paper into my hand. I take it, confused. What the hell did she give me? When I get to the bathroom, I unfold it to see her lips on the paper, followed by call me and her phone number. Rolling my eyes, I toss it in the trash, piss, and wash my hands.

There's only one woman I'm interested in getting in touch with while I'm here and she sure the hell isn't the fake-tanned, fake-titted lady on the plane.

Speaking of Opal, I reach into my suit pocket and pull my phone out, powering it on to see if she decided to have mercy on me and finally respond to my messages. At the very least, tell me to fuck off and I'll leave her be, but the ignoring is driving me insane. As soon as my phone turns on, it beeps incessantly, alerting me to voice and text messages. I listen to the voicemails first; all from my assistant reminding me of my interviews today and telling me she has lunch set to arrive at the hotel in thirty minutes. Apparently, she was tracking the plane on the airline app. Clicking over to the texts, I scroll quickly through the few at the top before my stomach flip-flops and my heart races; Opal.

Opal: Listen dude. I've been trying to ignore you, but this last message had a little bit of desperation in it. This is not Opal or whoever you're looking for. My name's Chuck and I'm willing to go out on a limb and say I'm not your type. Sorry to let you down, man. I hope you find who you're looking for.

What the hell? She gave me the wrong number.

That's a new one, even for me. Was I so unpleasant to be around that she had to give me a fake number to avoid me? I try to recall our interaction to see if I read the scenario wrong.

I move through the rental car line and desk in a haze, recounting our short time spent in the alley and the club. As I slide behind the wheel of my rental, I have a clear vision of her on her phone waiting for me to hang up with Jonas.

When I asked for her number, she put it in quickly and specifically said, "You better call, Wells. I'm not the type to sit around and pine for some man who says he'll call and never does." I told her I planned on doing more than just calling, which was the truth, and she gave me a thumbs up, her blonde hair swaying behind her as she walked away from me.

No, nothing is saying she gave the wrong number intentionally. She wanted me to call her. Literally said she wouldn't hang around and wait for me to call. She isn't the type to pine after a man. Maybe it's possible she just hit a wrong button by accident. We had been drinking, and it was late. That has to be it. I can't believe she would just send me off to text or call some other poor sap.

Looking at the clock in the car, I see it's noon and my first interview isn't until two. I have enough time to check in, eat, and shower. My last interview, I believe, is at seven, so afterward I can head to Hidden Gems and see if Opal's working or when she will be there next. I'll explain that I've been trying to contact her all this time and had no luck. Maybe she'll consider going to dinner, or hell, breakfast with me, depending on when she gets off.

Exhausted is the only word that can describe how I feel after sitting through nine interviews in five hours. Why did I insist they be back-to-back? I ended up filling the position with a woman who came in at three, but I wanted to make sure she was the best candidate. Jenni is a sassy little thing, but I think she has what it takes to keep Luxe running smoothly while I'm in Chicago. I'm a little worried about how small she is for dealing with security issues, but we have a good security team. She assured me breaking up bar fights in Boston when the Red Sox play is far worse than anything the stuck-up clientele of Las Vegas can do.

Who am I to argue?

She had an amazing resume and answered every question perfectly. She'll be sitting in on the interviews tomorrow for the position at Element.

Even though I'm tired, I'm on my way to Hidden Gems to find the woman who has kept my interest without even trying for the last five months. I haven't even attempted to go out with anyone else and when someone flirts with me, I just picture Opal's eyes locked on mine as I drove into her tight pussy. Or the way she laughed and held an intelligent conversation with me at the bar for hours. She's got me tied up in knots and I'm not a fan, especially since I'm old enough to be her dad. I can't seem to find it in me to care. I want to see her again. I have to know if it was a one-off or if there really is a connection.

Pulling into the parking lot, I cut the engine and get out of the car, straightening my tie as I head to the door. Their signature coconut smell permeates the air, almost suffocating me as I pay the cover and find a table on the floor. A server comes up and I don't even let her get a word in before I give her my order. "Old Fashioned, light ice."

It's the same thing I get everytime I drink, but why change a good thing?

She blinks at me in shock a few times before she leaves the table, only to return a few minutes later with my drink. Absentmindedly, I hand her my card for a tab, but pay her no mind. My eyes are on the stage, waiting to see if Opal comes out.

Two hours pass and Opal hasn't been on the stage or making the rounds on the floor to increase sales and get private dances. Waving the server over and leaning back in my chair as I wait for her.

"Everything alright, baby?" she coos, putting a hand on the table and bending down so I get a better look at her cleavage.

"Yeah, is Opal coming in tonight?"

"Opal? No, she won't be in tonight," she replies, leaning toward me, so her tits are closer to my face.

"When is her next shift? She gave me a dance last time I was here, and it was the best I ever had," I tell her, hoping that if I keep to the club and just want a dance, she'll be more ready to share the schedule with me.

"She doesn't work here anymore." She rolls her eyes. "We have plenty of other girls who are better dancers and are here now."

"No thanks. I'll take my card, so I can go." I wave my hand, dismissing her from my table.

She rolls her eyes and huffs before straightening and storming toward the bar.

I have no interest in any of these other dancers. I want to know where the hell Opal is and why she doesn't work here anymore. The server returns with my card and as she drops it on the table, she turns to walk away, but I grab her wrist.

"Can you tell me Opal's real name? I'm trying to find her."

"Go to hell. Whatever deal she's wrapped up in, I want nothing to do with. She never talked to anyone but Ruby, too stuck up." She rips her hand away from me and stomps her pouty ass to the next table to lay it on thick with them.

Well, this night just went to hell. How the hell am I going to find this woman now? Looking for a blonde stripper in Las Vegas is like looking for a needle in a haystack.

I had high hopes that she would be here tonight and I could plead my case, take her out, and end with me feasting on her cunt. Then I'd fuck her into agreeing to stay with me while I'm here this weekend. Now, I guess I'll head to my hotel and get some sleep, deal with these interviews tomorrow, and maybe they can move my flight up to tomorrow night instead of Sunday. It's not like flights between Chicago and Las Vegas are hard to come by. I don't feel like sticking around if I'm not going to see my girl, and that's saying something, since I'm a bachelor in Sin City.