The Best Bet (13 page)

“I don’t think Monday is good. I have to meet with the professor who’s helping me with my thesis.” She hesitated, realizing she might not see him again. “Will you be leaving after your interview?”

“Probably the next day. That’s the plan.”

“Then call me after your interview. You have my number, and I’ll be in my office Tuesday afternoon.” On impulse, she reached up and cupped his face in her hands, and this time she kissed him on the lips. “Get out and see the sights, Rafael. Enjoy your vacation. And I wish you the best of luck on your interview. Call or text me and tell me how it went.”

She gazed directly into his eyes. “Promise, okay?”

The eager, expectant look on his face was gone. “Sure, no problem.” 

She released him and dropped her hands to her lap.

He opened the car door. “Until Tuesday.”

Then he was gone, swallowed up by the Saturday night crowds.

#

The next two days ticked by slowly. It was a strange time, wandering the crazy landscape of Las Vegas for the next two days. Like in
Alice in Wonderland
, Rafael explored a world that was like no place on earth. There were plenty of Mad-Hatter types about, more decks of playing cards than Alice could have dreamed and lots of pompous caterpillars, too. But it was the overall surreal atmosphere of the place that amazed him—whimsical excess carried to extreme.

Walking the Strip or riding the bus up and down that glittering boulevard was like taking a trip around the world. He visited Imperial Rome, the South Seas, New York City, King Arthur’s castle, the Great Pyramid, Oz’s yellow brick road, Venice and Paris, all crowded, shoulder-to-shoulder and within a few blocks of each other. But that was only a start. There were circuses to see, Mardi Gras to attend, riverboats to captain, pirate ships to explore, Chinese palaces to admire, and more. The sheer scope of the place stunned him.

The excessive facades that lured in gamblers were all so pathetically plastic, so artificially orchestrated, that if he closed his eyes, they might vanish into the desert dust. Even the once-wild animals, now tamed and caged, played their parts on cue. But behind the facades, the casinos’ cores were all the same: countless banks of slot machines, wheels of fortune, and the table games grouped in rows.

What was that quote about Hollywood? That Hollywood was “the dream machine?”  That might have been true for the twentieth century, but Vegas was the undisputed winner of this new century.

What would it be like to live here every day?

Bored with seeing the sights, he considered trying to get tickets to a couple of shows. But he really didn’t want to go by himself; where was the fun in that? He snatched quick breakfasts in the coffee shop and picked up a sandwich or pizza slices at the Xanadu’s food court. Eating alone in a restaurant wasn’t that appealing, either.

Time hung heavily on his hands, and he
was
in Vegas. When in Rome, do as the Romans do. He decided to try his hand at gambling again. After all, that was what Vegas existed for—gaming. The dream world, the wonderland of sights, was merely a scenic backdrop for gambling, a fantastic frame for the incessant clink of tokens in the slots and the click of chips at the tables.

He watched and re-watched the complimentary tape in his room that taught the basics of how to play the table games. The more he learned about craps, the more he realized how lucky he’d been that first night. And he thought he’d been so clever. Now that he knew more, he recognized that his winning had been pure dumb luck. And he didn’t want to tempt his luck again with craps. He’d done it to impress Adriana. If he played again, it would remind him of her, and he definitely didn’t need any reminders.

Black jack interested him, though, once he learned the basics: when to hold or ask for another card or double down. He sought out the cheapest tables, wagering only one ten dollar chip at a time. At that slow rate, it helped to pass the time. And if he had anything, it was plenty of time on his hands.

Playing twenty-one, as black jack was also called; he lost a little and won a little, essentially staying about even. According to the wisdom of the professionals, that wasn’t half bad because the casinos possessed the edge for all the games. After all, somebody had to pay for the elaborate dream world.

And black jack helped to keep his mind occupied, helped to keep his thoughts of Adriana at bay—some of the time. Despite all his best efforts, she haunted his every hour, waking and sleeping. The image of her heart-shaped face, the way she walked, the lemony scent of her perfume, and the sound of her voice, were all indelibly imprinted on his brain. He couldn’t stop thinking about her. He even avoided his hotel as much as possible, not wanting to run into her accidentally.

But all his ploys—the sightseeing, the gambling, even the aimless wandering—didn’t erase her from his thoughts.

How could he have fallen so hard and so fast for a woman? Could it be a rebound thing from Margarita? But that couldn’t be right. It had been two years since Margarita had left him, and he’d dated other women and none of them had gotten under his skin like Adriana.

He still knew so little about her. She’d shared with him what she was willing to share, but he had a feeling she had deep-seated reasons for keeping her emotional barriers in place. He’d thought she’d wanted to have an affair. But when he’d tried, she’d stopped him, even though she’d been hot for him.

Why had she rejected something she wanted, and then refused to see him for two days?  It didn’t make sense. But she had her own mysterious reasons for being the way she was, reasons she would fight to keep secret. And she’d succeeded. The only things he knew about her were superficial, except the grief over her mother’s death.

Maybe he’d been unfair to her: desperately wanting her to be the answer to his loneliness, fantasizing that she was his dream woman, and expecting too much too quickly. Could he really know a woman in a few days, no matter how strongly he was attracted to her?

And where had his deep feelings for Adriana come from in the first place? Was it really possible to fall in love at first sight? His parents had and they liked to recount the story. But that was another time and another world.

Throughout the two long days, the questions circled in his head.

#

Monday afternoon the dean’s administrative assistant called and confirmed his interview for the next day. That night he ate a sandwich in the coffee shop and went to his room. He spent several hours studying his notes for the meeting. Then he went to bed early, so he’d be rested for the interview.

But he couldn’t sleep. His mind wouldn’t shut off. He wanted to do well at the interview, and he couldn’t stop thinking about it, rehearsing it endlessly in his head. To make matters worse, his success would make it possible for him to move to Vegas and get to know Adriana better. Succeeding at the interview wasn’t just about the job, now it was something more. Everything led back to her.

Thinking about her resurrected all the questions he’d been over and over in his head. Was he deluding himself? Because everything had happened so fast and was so transitory, had that lent added urgency to their relationship? And if he took a job to be near her, would he be setting himself up for disillusionment and heartbreak?

He didn’t know anymore. He was so confused. And, though he hated to admit it, he was lonely, too. He missed his family.

Glancing at the digital clock on the nightstand, he saw it was almost midnight. He’d been tossing and turning for two hours. He had to talk to someone, talk out his frustrations and doubts. Despite their differences, his closest friend was Damian, his identical twin.

On a Monday night there was a good chance Damian would be home. Of course, it was almost two in the morning in Texas, which was Damian’s sales territory, so if his brother was at home or traveling on business, it was a pretty safe bet that he’d wake him up. But that shouldn’t matter. After all, Damian was family.

He sat up in bed and turned on a lamp. Grabbing his cell phone, he scrolled to his contact list and hit Damian’s name. He counted the rings, hoping his brother would pick up and not let the call go to voice mail.

On the fifth ring, a sleepy voice answered, “Damian Escobedo.”

“Damian, this is Rafael.”

“Rafael!
¡Carajo!
  Do you know what time it is here?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “Of course you do. But you don’t give a damn, you woke me up anyway. And I hope it’s not to tell me you’ve won a million dollars. If you have, good for you. Have fun and don’t spend it all in one place. I’m going back to sleep.”

Rafael couldn’t help but grin. It was good to hear his brother’s voice. Anyone else might think Damian was a raving lunatic, but not Rafael. He was accustomed to his twin’s self-centered attitude and just hearing him spout off was music to his ears.

“Hey, don’t hang up, no
seas estúpido
. I didn’t call to discuss my winnings. And
sí
, you’re right, I
do
know what time it is in Texas. But I need to talk to you.”

“You need to talk to me at this hour? This’d better be good.”

“It’s about a woman.”

“That’s as good as it gets. I’m glad to hear it,
mi hermano
. What do you need?”

“I don’t know if I can put this into words. It’s pretty confusing.”

“Try. I’m awake now, and listening.”

He took a deep breath and explained about Adriana and his unmasking as a fraud. When he admitted what had happened, his brother groaned and called him a moron.

Ignoring Damian’s unwanted editorial comment, Rafael plunged ahead, trying to describe his feelings for Adriana and her reaction to him. He even made a stab at explaining her strange behavior and the emotional distance she kept between them. Damian listened patiently, occasionally asking a question.

When Rafael had finished, he asked, “What do you think?”

“Remember summer camp, when we were kids?”

“Sure, but what does that have to do—”

“Remember Ashley Crawford, the blonde with legs that went on forever?”

“Of course.” Where was his brother going with this? He hadn’t called Damian in the middle of the night to take a trip down memory lane.

“We were both hot for her. Actually, it might have been the last time you showed taste in your choice of women,” his brother drawled. “But that’s beside the point. The point I want to make is that it was summer camp, and we were away from home. It was frivolous and romantic, and we knew we’d probably never see her again, which just upped the emotional ante.

In a word, it was a vacation infatuation. It’s a dangerous combination, great scenery and a beautiful mysterious woman you’ll never see again. More important,” he added, “is that she will never see you again. She won’t have to know that you belch after a meal or your apartment looks like a bomb went off or—”

“Okay, I got it, Damian, move on.”

Damian chuckled. “Hard to hear about your flaws, brother? Anyway back to the point, your situation, like our summer camp experience, is a perfect catalyst for romance, for the phenomenon known as the vacation infatuation. Based on what you’ve told me,
hermano mío
, you’ve got a bad case of it.”

“So you think I’m just infatuated with her?” What his brother said made sense, but he didn’t know if he bought it.

“Sure, that’s it.”

“Why isn’t she infatuated with me, then?”

“Uh, don’t ask me to answer that.” He could envision his brother grinning.

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it, Damian. She seems to like me well enough, but she keeps her distance. Why doesn’t she give herself over to the fling, to the infatuation?”

“Because she lives in a transient city. She’s used to men coming and going, and she realizes what happens: infatuation, followed by a letdown when they leave. It’s simple. She’s had lots of practice, unlike you.”

On that score, he was pretty sure Damian was wrong about Adriana. She didn’t date much. It was one of the few things she’d freely admitted, claiming her school and work kept her too busy. Rafael started to argue but decided to let it drop. He doubted his twin would understand, thinking it was part of his infatuation—that she’d only wanted to date him.

Instead, he said, “Thanks, Damian. Thanks for talking to me. You’ve helped a lot.” It was a bit of a white lie, but he appreciated his brother for listening. “I’m sorry I got you up.”

“Me, too. Hope I can go back to sleep.” His twin sighed. “If not, there’s plenty of work waiting. I could get an early start. And hey, speaking of work, knock ‘em dead at the interview, if that’s what you want.”

They exchanged goodbyes and hung up.

His brother had tried, but Damian didn’t have a clue. Rafael was on his own.

#

  Adriana rinsed off the last dish and put it in the dishwasher. It was the housekeeper’s night off, and Adriana was home, so she’d offered to clean up after supper.

Her father lounged in his big easy chair in the living room, reading the newspaper. It was a typical evening at home, except classes hadn’t started up yet after spring break, so she didn’t need to rush off and study. She missed studying, though. Or maybe she missed having each hour of each day filled. When you were busy all the time, it left little time to think.

She rubbed the back of her neck and wriggled her shoulders to loosen the tension. She’d worked long hours at the resort, and she should be ready to fall into bed and sleep, but she’d been having trouble sleeping lately. And tonight was more of the same. She just didn’t feel drowsy. The evening stretched before her. Maybe she should go to the gym and work out. That might dissipate some of her pent-up energy.

Bracing her hands on the sink’s edge, she closed her eyes and took several deep breaths.  Who was she fooling? Her pent-up tension had nothing to do with sleep or the lack of it. She remembered an old movie she’d seen on late night television, entitled, “Cat on a Hot Tin Roof.” She could definitely empathize with Maggie, the heroine. Adriana was just as sexually frustrated as the character—a condition foreign to her.