Page 35 of Caruso (Vegas Mafia #3)

Chapter Thirty-Five

Taylor

I am really doing this. I am walking toward Jason, and it’s not the field behind the barn. In public, free from our past and I wonder what he will make of this—make of me.

I have changed a lot in the past four years. My hair color, for one. Almost as a reflex action, my fingers tug on the strands, and I take a deep breath.

I walk with a confidence I don’t possess inside as Tommaso’s eyes burn into my back, and yet they give me a confidence I am latching onto as I approach the raucous table.

As I draw near, one of the guys whistles, “Fuck me. There’s a space next to me, honey. I’ll order us room service if you prefer.”

I ignore him completely and stare directly into Jason’s eyes. He glances in the direction of his friend’s voice and after a couple of takes, realization dawns.

“Taylor?”

His expression changes in a heartbeat. He appears astonished and confused.

“Jason.”

I smile, hesitating if I should go any closer, and he stands abruptly, heading my way, his hand landing on my arm.

“What are you doing here?”

It strikes me as a little odd that he guides me away from the table toward the corner of the restaurant that is away from listening ears.

“I live here.”

“In the hotel?” He shakes his head. “Do you work here?”

“No, I live at The Artemis.”

“Doing what?”

I’m not sure how to answer that, and decide to change the subject instead. “I can’t believe I found you.”

“Were you looking?” His eyes widen in surprise, and I shake my head.

“Not really, but I was worried. You left without saying goodbye, and well, my stepfather told me he killed you in a fight.”

“And you believed him?” His lip curls in disgust.

“That man couldn’t kill a cold. I never showed up for the fight. I skipped town because I had a better offer.”

“An offer?”

He shrugs. “Fighting in a syndicate. The pay was good, and we traveled around the country. The prize money was steep, and it got me out of Jupp’s Creek.”

“You never said goodbye. ”

I’m sad about that, and he shrugs. “Why would I?”

I stare at him in shock. It’s as if we are strangers. Not friends who spent a number of years with only one another for company.

“I would have said goodbye to you.”

I can’t disguise the hurt in my voice, which only deepens in my heart when he says slightly angrily. “You were just a kid, Taylor. I was sorry for you. Kids like us don’t catch breaks; we fall down the cracks of ones that others broke. You understand how it is. Self-sufficiency and survival.”

I take a deep breath, accepting he is right but hurt all the same.

“So, you’re in Vegas.” I attempt to keep my voice bright in the hope we can get back to how it used to be between us, and he nods. “I’m getting married.”

“That’s fantastic news.” I am genuinely happy for him, but he looks at me as if I’m a gun short of a bullet.

“Who is she? Where did you meet? Would I like her?”

The questions keep on coming despite the fact that this reunion is shaping up to be completely one-sided.

“You won’t know her.” He sighs and lowers his tone. “Listen, Taylor, this world, this life, is a fight for survival. We both understand that, and this is my advice to you – my parting advice.”

My blood runs cold as he says roughly, “I am marrying an eighty-year-old woman for her money. She has no kids, four dead husbands and a shitload of money that would otherwise go to a cat’s home.

She will demand little of me and shower me with riches, and all I must do is make her feel good about herself from time to time and accompany her to events. Then, when she passes, I get the lot.”

I’m speechless as he jerks his thumb toward his friends.

“Those guys know the score. They have done much the same as I have. I met them when I was in LA, and they brought me into their world. We stick together and live the high life. Some call us gigolos; others, lucky bastards.”

He considers me with a calculating gleam in his eye.

“I could introduce you to the club I belong to. Women are members too, and we could hook you up with a geriatric on much the same terms.”

“No!” I stare at him in horror, and he shrugs.

“Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it. Guys like us don’t catch many breaks. You said you are living at The Artemis. I’m guessing you work there. Aim higher, Taylor, reach for the stars and grab what you can while you are up there. You won’t have your looks for long, so you may as well use them.”

He glances across at his friends, who are laughing and pouring champagne into glasses as if it’s about to be banned.

“Look at us. Living life on somebody else’s credit card.

Gloria is funding this little trip with her blessing.

Her parting words to me were ‘enjoy your stag honey, max this out I want you to have a good time with your friends.’ She, in the meantime, is playing bridge with her club and going to the theater by way of a celebration.

She’s happy, I’m happy, so what’s the problem?

I get to live in a mansion in Malibu and party with the guys most weekends.

We pick up chicks, play poker and drink until we can’t stand.

Why work for a living when you can enjoy the fruits of somebody else’s good fortune? ”

I have no words.

Inside, I am shattered, but I remember Tommaso’s command. Don’t reveal your emotions . I’m grabbing that thought now.

“Well-” I take a deep breath. “It’s good to learn you aren’t dead, anyway.”

I force a bright smile onto my face as he glances past me, desperate to rejoin his friends.

“I should let you go. Good luck with the wedding and, well, life really.”

He nods and then says softly, “You’re a good kid, Taylor. Consider what I said. We’re survivors, you and me. We came from nothing but will leave with everything. Follow my advice and you may luck out.”

He rummages in his pocket and pulls out a crumpled card.

“Here’s the number of the agency. Call them. You won’t regret it.”

I hold the piece of card in my fingers and wish I could tear it into pieces. But I can’t. No emotion, remember.

I smile coolly and jerk my head toward his friends.

“You should go. It’s your stag after all.”

He nods and smiles, a fleeting glimpse of the boy I once knew.

“I like the hair, by the way. Really edgy, but you may want to tone it down for the geriatrics. I wish you luck with that, and who knows, our paths may cross again one day at some event or another. Good luck, kid; it was nice seeing you.”

He heads off as if he hasn’t a care in the world, and I slip the card into the potted tree.

My past is gone, what little I had left of it, and the only one still standing is me.