Patient, polite and genuinely interested, Marcy knew André would listen to her without shock, surprise or judgment. How could anyone be embarrassed when talking to that understanding Frenchman? A man who could easily discuss anything?
She was cleaning one of the ornate bathrooms when Gustave came for her. "Marcy, Mr. Chevalier would like to see you in his office. Will you be long?"
Marcy, who had been bent over, sat up straight and wiped a tendril of hair out of her eye with the back of her wrist. Her hands were sweating in her purple rubber gloves, as she had been giving the six-person spa bath a good scrub.
"Oh, I can finish this later. It's probably better if I come now. You don’t have to wait, Gustave. I know the way."
"As you wish, Mademoiselle." Gustave gave her a courtly bow and left.
Marcy went to the bathroom mirror, pulled off her gloves and washed her hands. Then she pulled out her ponytail, brushed and tidied her hair, and put it back into a ponytail. Her uniform was black, with a white lace collar, and a white apron. Marcy liked it. It was professional, yet flattering.
It was strange how differently she looked at herself now in a mirror.
The new makeup she was wearing accented her eyes, which she had been told were striking. Marcy's somewhat sharp features didn't bother her anymore. Neither did her rather over voluptuous curves. Because the people she was surrounded by made her feel valuable and appreciated, her self-esteem soared.
Studying her reflection, Marcy smiled at the face that looked back at her. I'm actually quite pretty, she decided. It was the first time she honestly could ever recall thinking that.
As she made her way toward André's office, her phone rang. Caller ID said that it was Mike Thompson.
22. Mike Thompson
The flight had only taken an hour to get to Vegas from LA.
The Airbus A320 touched down at McCarran International Airport in Las Vegas, the 6th busiest airport in America. Mike suspected that it was also the only American airport that had over a thousand slot machines in it, enticing tourists from the get-go, right at their arrival in Nevada.
It was early afternoon as the plane taxied down the runway. Mike checked his seat pocket to make sure he hadn't left anything, and shifted restlessly while he waited. As it was a legitimate business expense, he had flown business class return to L.A. for his convention. Mike was in a hurry to get off this plane and call Marcy.
Marcy, Marcy, Marcy he sung to himself smiling with what he suspected was a maniacal grin. Marcy with the lovely brunette hair. How I'd like to wrap my fingers around that hair of hers, and kiss her sweet lips. What would she taste like?
Mike pictured her in his mind. Those sharp features and long straight nose that gave her a curiously questioning aspect to her face. Her large plump breasts, full figure, and those striking honey-brown eyes. To him the combination was ridiculously inviting. Soft and womanly, and sometime soon hopefully… willing. Did it get any better than that?
Marcy was a tall girl, probably five feet eight inches - less than a head shorter than he was. When they made love he would easily be able to easily penetrate her and kiss her at the same time. Oh yeah.
The sensual intimacy of that vision made his pulse skip. His blue jeans became uncomfortably tight as he began to stiffen. Mike unfastened his seat belt, and shifted in his aisle seat, smiling briefly at the older man wearing a pinstripe business suit, in the seat next to him.
The plane came to a stop and the high whine of engines switched off. This seemed to be the signal, as people began to stand, talk and move.
Mike stood up, and grabbed his bag from the overhead locker. He heard a loud thud as the raised gangway connected to the door of the plane, and the sealed door was opened.
Oh man, I'm so gone on that girl - not to mention Marcy's daughter, Katie.
Mike and Ziggy had their minds made up. He and his dog were not going to take no for an answer. Marcy and Katie were already like family to him. Mike fully planned to marry the woman, just as soon as he thought he might get a yes when he asked her. He had even bought her an engagement ring.
For a moment he recalled the round brilliant cut diamond set in platinum, with ten perfectly matched diamonds, five on either side. Would she like it? Or had he gone a bit overboard? He had looked at hundreds of rings while shopping in L.A. This one had just stood out.
He had been rushing their relationship too much already. The plan had been to go slow, and to reel her in gently.
So much for that idea.
Mike just couldn’t do it. He simply couldn’t hide how happy she made him. But did Marcy feel the same way about him? He recalled her sweet blushes whenever he touched her, the spark of attraction that they both felt. He was a determined man. In time he would make her love him, by God.
The passengers began unloading, and as he was right at the front, he was one of the first people off the plane. He extended the handle on his suitcase, pulling it behind him. The second he hit the terminal, Mike rang her, while still walking up the off ramp.
"Hello?"
"How are you gorgeous? Did you miss me?"
"No. Why?" she said without missing a beat. "Were you gone?"
He laughed. "Oh, you are a cruel and heartless woman. I haven’t seen you for five days."
There was a long pause and Marcy said, "It's been five days and eleven hours, but who's counting?"
An even longer pause ensued while Mike's heart did somersaults of joy. "Marcy, you know that I love you don't you?" he unthinkingly blurted out.
"Love! Oh my, God! Don’t talk to me of love. I have no idea what love is. It seems like an insane chemical reaction that makes a person crazy, losing all sense of proportion. The last thing I need is another man."
"A couple things here," Mike said stepping out of the main thoroughfare and letting the concentrated herd of other passengers pass him. He stood off to the side of a book shop, glancing up for a moment at the poster of a man wearing a crown. "Game of Thrones" still appeared to be featured everywhere he went.
"In the first place," he began confidently. "I don’t believe that you have ever had a real man. There was Trent, of course, but clearly he doesn't count."
Marcy's soft feminine giggle thrilled him.
"If you had ever had the chance to experience life with a real man, you would find that a man can be quite useful. Responsible, and helpful in fact. Not to mention fun to have around."
"Is that right?"
"That's right." He transferred the phone to his other ear. "And second, I do love you and that is just the truth."
"Mike…"
"No listen to me here for a second," he interrupted. "Ziggy and I have talked about this a lot, man to man." Mike heard Marcy's snicker through the phone and was glad of it. He didn’t want her to get all worked up over this.
"Okay, well maybe not man to man," he continued, "but certainly man to dog. Ziggy has a ton to say on the subject of love. Unconditional love, loyalty and devotion are all subjects a dog knows everything about, you know? Besides, you know what kind of dog Ziggy is. He's highly opinionated, true but he's also very wise underneath all that tail-wagging. That dog knows exactly what he's talking about."
Marcy laughed out loud. The sound of her genuine amusement warmed him.
"Anyway, Ziggy's been nagging, telling me that I should just go ahead and tell you how I feel. I was against it of course, wanting to take it slow and to break it to you gently."
"Is that right?" Marcy said and there was a happy smirk in her voice.
"I think I fell in love with you the first time I saw you, Marcy, from the moment I saw you smile," Mike said, making his voice low and intentionally compelling. "I swear to God, when you smile your whole face shows exactly who you are. Anyway, it's not my fault. I couldn’t help myself. How could I not fall in love with you?"
"I don’t do love, Mike, and I'm terrible with men."
"Yes, yes, you've told me that before," he said. "Listen. I love you. That is just
the truth of the matter. It is my problem not yours. I can't change it and I wouldn't if I could. I can only control my actions, not how I feel. But how I feel is this, you're the only one for me. You know how sometimes you just know? Or maybe you don’t."
Marcy remained silent.
He shook his head, trying to clear it so his words came out right. "Anyway, that's okay, if you aren't there yet. I'll deal. Marcy, I swear, we're totally compatible. From the time I wake up in the morning and pretty well all day long I find myself thinking, "I wonder what Marcy is doing right now?" I look forward the whole day to seeing you and Katie. That isn’t just a passing thought, it's a daily fixation."
"Mike… I think of you, too."
He waited, hoping she would say more. When she didn’t, he just cleared his throat, feeling incredibly cheerful at her concession. He knew it! He just knew that she liked him, too. He wondered why she had such trouble admitting it.
"Okay, well, that's great," he said. "We like each other and that is more than enough for now, honey. Until you decide that we may be able to have more, I'm just going to hang around you all the time like…" he paused and exhaled while he considered possible parallels. "Well like your best girlfriend, okay?"
"My best girlfriend?" Her chuckle was low and ridiculously sexy.
"Okay, well, girlfriend with a penis," he corrected rolling along with his inapt comparison anyway, "but hey, that isn’t my fault either. In life, it's important to know your limitations. There are things one can do something about and things one can't."
"Mike, I don’t think we can ever be more than friends."
"Marcy, my own true love, I hate to disagree. If I agreed with you that we can never be lovers, well, then we'd both be wrong."
Marcy cracked up over that one, which is what he had hoped. It was so easy to make her laugh.
He made arrangements to pick her and Katie up at their condo after work. He would make them a spaghetti dinner at home. He blew her a kiss goodbye and hung up smiling. It was Thanksgiving tomorrow. All his crazy family members would be in one place, where they could meet Marcy and Katie.
Marcy only had Katie in her family, but Mike had parents, grandparents, siblings, cousins, nieces and nephews. Anyway, family is what Thanksgiving was all about. It had hurt him to imagine her and Katie alone on such a special day. This year Marcy was getting much more than she had planned for.
Mike's thoughts returned to Trent Berger. He had gotten an old school friend, David Abbot, to look into the guy. David had left the Las Vegas police force and become a PI. Why not find out what Berger was up to? After years working in army intelligence, it was an obvious thing to do.
In life Mike had found that it always paid to be one step ahead.
A simmering rage flowed through him when he thought of Berger. That ex of Marcy's was a real piece of work. The dickhead was already cheating on his new wife it seemed, taking advantage of an employee. In Mike's experience, a cheater was a cheater, now and forever. What was wrong with the asshole? Mike figured whatever it was, it must be something serious.
One thing was certain, with a guy like that, infidelity wasn't about sex. Trent Berger had a pattern going. Perhaps his repeated sexual conquests made him feel powerful and important? Clearly women were not people to an egocentric asshole like Berger. They only existed as things to be used.
Mike felt sorry for Marcy. Betrayal was hurtful to the one betrayed. Marcy had been wounded by her husband's infidelities. She had been the last one to find out apparently, which wasn't uncommon. She doubted her judgment now, and had difficulty trusting men.
He wondered how Trent Berger would like it if his new wife cheated on him? An intense, almost overwhelming desire to make the man suffer fired his soul. How could he do it? Maybe his new wife would find another lover? Debra was her name. Perhaps Mike could be instrumental in helping that possibility become reality?
Mikes lips curled in a spiteful grin. It would be good to see Trent Berger get some of what he'd been dealing out.
How would the dickhead react to being betrayed? The desire to find out was irresistible. The son of a bitch would probably be all guilt tripping, "poor me, look what you did to me." Maybe he would even cry? Or would he become violent? Mike didn’t know the idiot well enough to guess.
What a cockroach. And just like roaches in the light, Trent Berger would skitter off to hide if only half of his indiscretions were exposed. Or would he? Unfortunately, Berger appeared to be the kind of guy who could convincingly explain away everything.
Chronic infidelity appeared to be just the tip of the man's iceberg of shortcomings.
Financially loaded, Trent Berger had let his only child and ex-wife survive hand-to-mouth. Selfish, irresponsible bastard. Yet the man would always be Katie's father. Sad but true. Thus, at some time or another, for Katie's sake, Mike would have to find a way to make the jerk man up and be a half decent father.
And next week I'll schedule a flight to Mars, he mused dryly.
The thing with people like Trent Berger was, they didn’t realize that their constant assholishness would eventually cause them some pretty dire consequences. What goes around comes around, after all. The technical term in this case was 'bad karma.'
It couldn’t happen to Trent Berger too soon to Mike's way of thinking.
At least he would be a good male role model for Katie. And by God, he already loved that kid as much as he would love a child of his own. Humming happily, Mike got into a yellow taxi, and asked the cabbie to take him home.
23. Surprise
André's office was a warm and inviting and utterly male. The dark wood floors were covered by a beautiful medieval Aubusson rug, his large teak desk was set so he could look out over the landscape of Las Vegas. Dark wooden beams placed against a white ceiling made it appear as if the room was set in some French château.
Marcy was in a ridiculously good mood. Talking to Mike always made her girlishly happy and now he had proclaimed that he loved her.
They had only known each other three weeks, yet she could feel that same irresistible pull toward him, too. The man made her feel cherished and beautiful. Was that love? She sure as hell hoped that it was simply profound friendship. Somehow she was going to have to get him to back off. There was no way in hell that she was going to sleep with him.
What am I going to do about Mike?
Seeing André made all her concerns about Mike disappear. The Frenchman courteously stood immediately upon her arrival, and came around the desk to greet her like some sort of dignitary. He was her boss. Why did he do that? He always made her feel so damn special.
Crossing the room, the man moved toward her with that elegant masculine grace of his. Marcy's heart lifted even further.
André was beautiful, both inside and out. He had done so much for her and he was a real gentleman. Marcy reflected once again how important he made her feel. He treated her, and all his employees, as if they were fundamental to his happiness.
"Ma belle, how are you? Come sit with me here, I wish to speak with you."
"André, I'm just great."
Jesus Lord, she thought, what is in that man's cologne? God damn, he smells so good.
They sat on the large, plush white couch turned toward one another. Marcy found herself looking at him and smiling, just as he was. Ever since she had known him, André had only shown her respect.
"You are happy to have joined our little family?"
"I can't tell you how happy I am," she said. "I was thinking, you know, I'm pretty good with a computer. If you needed someone to – I don't know, put in data or create an electronic filing system for you? Well, I'm your girl. I worked for years as a medical secretary in a busy medical center, but I guess you know that. It's just that I think you're paying me a ridiculous amount of money, and I'm not doing much for you."
"Vraiment? You are good with computers? I shall give this matter some thought. But I understand that you have applied to continue your nursing degree part time?" br />
She laughed. "Man, I didn’t know how much men gossiped. Okay, so Mike told you that? Yeah, I've always wanted to have a degree behind me, and I got a good start on nursing. Unless you think I should get an education in something useful to you? I swear I'll happily work for you forever, but only if you actually need me."
"Très bon. This is good to hear. I am happy that you are happy."
"Is that what you wanted to speak to me about?"
Anne came in with hot chocolate on a tray for André, and an option for hot chocolate, coffee or tea for Marcy. A few slices of cut up pear and apple, and some fine Brie and blue cheeses rested on the colorful French provincial stoneware. Marcy thanked her, and Anne fussed over André, which André took in good part – obviously well used to her motherly attentions.
André smiled affably when she left. "She treats me like the spoiled eldest son, I think," he said with a shrug.
"My dear, André," Marcy said with a snort, while pouring herself a hot chocolate. "Anne loves you, and why not? You're pretty damn lovable. I adore you myself, and everyone who works for you. I'm still expecting to wake up. I can't believe that you picked me. Thousands of others would have been more helpful to you."
"It was your honesty, ma belle. We have discussed this. How many of those thousands would have taken the $100 bill? I can trust you utterly, of this I am certain."
"Thank you. I won't let you down." She took a sip of dark hot chocolate, savoring the sweet, rich taste.
"Ma belle, six days ago, you watched a woman and myself on the screens while cleaning the security office, no?"
Marcy almost choked on her chocolate. Oh shit. A nervous knot settled in the pit of her stomach. "Um, how did you know?"
He raised one thick, elegant eyebrow. "There is 24 hour recorded footage taken of the security room."