Based On Lies
1. Wanna Leave With You Tonight
Rating 4/5 Word Count 3220 Review this Chapter
Wanna Leave With You Tonight
Las Vegas. What is there to say that hasn’t been said already? Yes, it was everything it was said to be… and more. It was that city. A city that could give you a big jackpot and euphoric high then seconds later take it away, strip you naked and throw you out into the busy street. Lives either start or end here, no exceptions. You could fulfill your wildest fantasies; sex, drugs, implement your delusions of grandeur…you name it, you can accomplish it there. Then go home and back to your boring life, your boring job, your boring family and your boring significant other. No worries. No regrets. Just the simple satisfaction of a few days away. But it's so much more complicated than that. No one can be satisfied by a mere few days, they all get sucked in. And they leave blinded by the bright lights and all the glamour.
They say that what happens there stays there. And it better in a place named Sin City, an apt name for the place. It is full of all the seven deadly sins: gluttony, pride, wrath, envy, sloth and most importantly greed and lust. It certainly isn’t a place for religious pilgrimage. Unless your religion happens to be blackjack. It's not a quaint family vacation area, not with legal prostitution just outside the city limits. This is where you come when you want to get away from an ordinary life filled with boring and restricting morals. This is where you come to try to make a quick buck but end up losing everything you own. This was where you come to escape a big wedding. Or to simply just have a little fun.
That’s what my vacation was supposed to be about. Fun. Two friends, traveling to escape the real world and celebrate in style.
Rosalie had the idea of a girl’s night out in Vegas. Her boyfriend…ex boyfriend, Royce, had broken up with her. And I was sick of watching her mope around. It wasn’t like her. She was supposed to be witty and sarcastic with just a touch of bitchy. So after a week of she hatched a plan to get over Royce. She said there was no better way to mend a broken heart than a night of drinking and promiscuity. And no better place to do that but Las Vegas.
The trip was treacherous. Rosalie was not usually pleasant for extended periods of time, especially in a confined space. But I figured it would be well worth it when we arrived. Sadly, it wasn’t. The first night she locked herself in the room wallowing in self pity with a quart of ice cream. So instead of a weekend in Vegas I decided to extended girls night out to an entire week of fun, drinking and promiscuity. And maybe even a little ice cream on the side. That seemed to do the trick for her. She stopped moping with her ice cream and started parting with lots of beer.
We had spent our days around the tables being good luck charms for high rollers (you got a lot of free stuff that way) and our nights getting free drinks from lonely guys in bars. In the early mornings when we would finally stumble back to our hotel room and sleep, we came alone, because sadly the selection of guys we came across was well below our standards for one reason or another, hard to imagine after the amount of alcohol we consumed.
We had only two nights left and were not going to settle for a trip to Vegas without the promiscuous sex that we were planning on. So we walked the strip and into bar after bar before Rosalie finally found one that ‘felt like’ a place where her type of guy would be. I didn’t get it. It looked like just another bar to me. It was loud and crowded and smelled heavily of alcohol, sweat and smoke. The small dance floor was packed with a sea of people all moving in rhythm with the music (and a few with no rhythm at all). Happy couples celebrated a new wedding or their winnings. Complete strangers left, hand in hand and mouth to mouth for a night of meaningless but passionate sex. Desperate and lonely individuals dressed in expensive clothing sat on their barstools crying into a beer they could barely afford as they tried to figure out how to get the lives they just gambled away back. Three geeks in the corner being chatted up by women that were so far out of their league it was funny. They were willing to give out their lives savings if those women asked, and they probably would too. It was painfully obvious that they were prostitutes after all. So all in all, it looked like your average run of the mill Vegas bar. Just like the ones we had struck out at for the past week.
But what I didn’t see at first was what had caught her attention in the first place, a big group of meatheads in the VIP area. And 50% of them fit Rosalie's description of a perfect guy. And Rosalie being Rosalie walked right up to them and flat out asked if there was someone there that was willing to buy her a drink. She had five chocolate martinis in front of her before she even sat down. I settled into the back and tried to disappear. This was not my scene. I did not go for the meathead type. And I did not want to get in the middle of them like Rose was. She thrived on being the center of attention while I was much more likely to shy away from it. So I sunk into a quiet corner as the large group crowded around her and vied for her affection.
Rosalie was now on her fourth chocolate martini, that I know of, and was well on her way to being drunk. Not so much on her way now that I really pay attention, she was well past it. She had put an end to the game the guys were playing and had declared a winner, of course it was the biggest guy there was. The rest of the guys returned to drinking and scoping out the bar for another girl.
Rosalie let out a laugh that was a little too loud as she listened to the rebound guy. Supposedly this was the Ohio State football team out celebrating their season. And the guy she had chosen for the night was a linebacker out of Ohio State and entering the NFL draft. Sure to be a number one pick, according to him and all his friends. It was a good story, I must admit, to use on drunk girls. A very hot, athletic guy with the promise of fortune and fame. Like things like that ever really happen, a random hook up that lasts long enough for the promise of fortune and fame to actually pay off. And like the guy was really telling the truth about anything at all. But Rosalie was drunk and lonely and would fuck any guy that gave her attention that night, even if he didn’t have a story that would make her want to fuck him right on the spot like that.
I dragged her away quickly. It’s time for the girlfriend pep talk. "So how are things going with Mr. Football?"
She giggled. "Emmett," she sighed dreamily. "He’s great. He wants me to… go to some big football thing with him. I don’t know, I wasn’t really paying attention. He’s so hot. Hey, just in case he’s not prepared, do you have a condom on you?"
I nodded my head. "It’s going that well." I smiled at her. "I come prepared for anything." I reach into my back pocket and hand one to her. "And even if I didn’t, check out the bathroom, they sell them in vending machines."
She held a look of pure awe on her face. "Like with the tampons?"
"Yeah, I know. An odd placement but it seems to work. Kind of a genius idea." I shrugged. I grabbed her arms and hold her in place, forcing her to look at me. "You and Mr. Football enjoy your night. I won’t come back to the room until morning."
She pulled me in for a hug. "Thank you! I love you!" She ran away, quickly grabbing Mr. Football by the hand and escorted him out. His buddies laughed, nodded their heads and did all the other things guys do when they know one of their friends is about to get laid.
And now that Rose had been taken care of, it was time for me to find my room for the night. Now don’t get me wrong, I’m not usually this girl. I’m not one that goes out looking for one night stands. Sure sometimes they just happen to happen. But you only live once and this is Vegas. It’s like, required to be a whore when you come here.
I took a seat at the bar and waited. I scanned the room. Very disappointing. I might have to switch bars. I saw a lot of dorky boys hoping that some girl would walk up to them and make their wildest dreams come true. Some old desperate men that thought they could still hang with the younger crowd. And I have very little interest in Mr. Football’s friends. I scowled in disgust just as I felt a hand at my waist. It better not be one of the old pervs. I am not nearly drunk enough for that. I turned and was pleasantly surprised. Young. Soft green eyes that perfectly complimented his wayward bronze hair. Muscular arms. And a boyishly playful crooked smile. He will do.
"You looked like you could use a drink," he offered me a shot glass filled with a clear liquid.
"Thanks." I smiled. The fluid burned my throat in a very good way. "Bella," I offer with a smile.
"Edward." He slinks into the seat beside me. "You’re alone?" The question wasn't so subtle but I had pretty much already made up my mind.
"I was here with a friend," I talked as he ordered us another round of drinks. "But she took off with…Some meathead." I rolled my eyes.
"Not your type," he observed with a laugh.
"No." I shook my head and met his laughter. "Me and Rose are very different. While she was having cheer practice in high school I was serving detention for skipping class…among other things."
"So you’re the bad twin?"
I again laughed. "If we were twins, yeah. But I’m just a friend with a bad influence."
"You don’t seem all that bad to me." He flashed me a crooked grin as he glided another glass in my direction.
I licked my lips and lift the drink. "You haven’t known me that long yet," I said, doing the shot with him.
"Then I guess I’ll have to get to know you better," he teased back.
This playful flirting is much more effective on me than Mr. Football’s false story. "Buy me another drink first."
He obliged and we began to question each other. A sort of interview, but much more fun. "First time you were ever drunk?"
I smiled. I was an early bloomer. My parents divorce took it's toll on me. "14."
It was my turn. "First time you had sex?"
"Big year for you." I nodded and he seems to blush. How cute. He’s soliciting for a one night stand but he blushes over his first time. "16."
"You’re biggest embarrassment?"
I shook my head. "I don’t embarrass easily."
"If you were to turn me down." He nodded.
Time to turn it up. "Keep the drinks coming and I don’t think that will be a problem." I raised an eyebrow and watched his reaction out of the corner of my eye. He hardly reacted. He already knew he was in. And I really don’t think I need anymore drinks. My head was already buzzing. But he ordered another round and I accepted. Fuck it! What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas. Or at least I pray to God, that’s the way it is.
I pulled the thick cotton sheets over my head, blocking out the blinding light of the afternoon sun. I felt the heat radiating from the body next to me and sighed as an arm draped itself over my waist. "Rose," I whined, fighting back a yawn as I pushed the arm from her. "Go sleep in your own bed. You can tell me all about him when I wake up."
But the only response that I got was that of a body cuddling closer to me and a low moan. A moan that defiantly didn't belong to Rose. I paused for a moment to collect my thoughts. And I failed miserably. I had a massive headache and an overwhelming sensation that the room was spinning. And my stomach was protesting all the alcohol it begged for last night. And let’s not forget to mention my lack of recognition of the room I woke up in.
What did I remember? I know there was a bar. And there was a boy. And I assume there was sex. Hence the nakedness on my part. But that’s where my memory failed me. I think there must have been more alcohol. And presumably more sex. Why did I always forget the best parts?
I took a deep breath and rolled over, instantly regretting it as my stomach gurgled loudly in protest. I wrapped myself in the sheet and ran to what I assumed was the bathroom. Unfortunately I was wrong and I vomited in someone’s luggage stored in a very large closet for a hotel. Impressive. I sat down and closed my eyes. It was the first time I had ever been black out drunk before. And I really didn’t like it. I crawled to my purse and popped a handful of aspirin followed by a stick of gum.
That’s when it finally got my attention. A very new, very shiny piece of jewelry placed on my left ring finger. Very funny, I chuckled to myself. Vegas humor. And there was even a matching marriage license on the night stand. How cute. But I needed to get back to my room and check in on Rose. Make sure that Mr. Football wasn't actually Mr. Psycho Killer. And I hope she’s not feeling as bad as I am right now. Maybe she actually remembered what happened with her conquest last night. But I had a slight problem, all my clothes seemed to be missing. Please tell me I didn't strip before getting into the room. I don't really want to find my way back to my room wrapped in a sheet.
I looked to the bed to find my mystery man the bed lying on his stomach, his bare ass (his very nice bare ass) up in the air. That's just perfect. Exactly what I wanted to do first thing in the morning when I had a hangover. I ignored mystery man for a moment and look for my clothes. But as usual, I had no luck. So I focused my attention back on the mystery man. "Hey," I started off quietly as I gingerly kicked the edge of the mattress, still holding the sheet against my body. He didn’t move. And no matter how many times or how loud I got, it didn’t seem to make a difference. He just laid there. All naked and snoring. So I tossed a pillow at him and that seemed to do the trick.
"What the fuck?" he cursed as he quickly sat up.
"Have you seen my clothes?" I asked, wracking my brain to try to remember his name. Eli. Elton. Eddie. Edward!
"Why so anxious to get back into them? You were in such a rush to get out of them last night," he teased.
"Ha ha," I faked the laugh and rolls her eyes. "You are so clever. Steal my clothes. Slip a fake ring on my finger. Put a fake marriage license on the night stand. Where’s the camera so I can laugh at how dumb I was to fall for it all." He just stared at me as I ranted. "Come on. Things to see. People to do. Or something like that. I don’t know I’m very hung over and possibly still a little drunk."
He paused for another moment. "What the fuck are you talking about?" He said slowly, annunciating every syllable.
"Fake ring," I speak slowly, maybe he’s still drunk too. "Fake marriage license." I point to the night stand beside him.
"Fuck!" he cursed. Starting to get it. "There’s an unopened box of condoms here and…"
"No worries." I shook my head. "I’m clean and on the pill." He sat on the bed silently as I continued my search for the rest of my clothes. "But back to the real issue… You’re clean too right?"
"Yeah." He nodded slowly his face still froze in a dumbfounded look.
"So let’s do this…The camera or whatever. This is like Punk’d or something, right?"
"They do celebrities." He shook his head in confusion.
"So it’s the poor mans version, I don’t care. I just want to wrap this shit up and go."
"Why do you think we’re on camera?" He questioned, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
I roll my eyes and flash my new accessory. "Shit!" he started a barrage of obscenities as he ran about the room. Still naked, I’d like to add. I really wish I could remember last night he is remarkably good looking. "Do you know what this means?"
"Yeah." I nodded, growing tired of this game. "Like I said. Real funny. You got me. Now can I please have my clothes back?"
"Why are you acting like you’ve done this before?" He furrowed his brow.
"Maybe because I have. Once or twice on occasion. One night stands aren’t that uncommon." I paused, suddenly getting it. "Oh my God! You’ve not a virgin are you?" I shook my head. "No, you can't be. You were so confident at the bar and if I stayed the night then the sex must have been... at least decent. And that takes some practice so..."
"What the fuck are you talking about?" he interrupts me. "The sex is the least of my concerns right now. A little more worried about the whole being married thing."
I sighed heavily. "Come on," I laughed. "Sure it’s Vegas but they still wouldn’t let a bunch of drunks tie the knot." He tossed a receipt for a very expensive ring and a photo album filled with pictures of me and him in the first moments of matrimonial bliss. And we even got super classy and had the Elvis impersonator do it. "Well…Fuck me," I sighed, finally accepting my fate. I'm fucking married. This sucks. Charlie is going to kill me if I don't do it first.
"Yes, I believe that came next." Edward nodded.