Page 15 of Notorious

It’s late.

We’re drunk. Lights flash around us.

“Okay, darlin’. If that’s what you want. But we’re still not fucking when y’all are drunk. We’re … we’re drunk.” He’s slurring, but it comes out firm.

I pout and put my hands on my hips. “Is this because you don’t know me?”

“It’s my rule. For everyone.”

“Whoever has you for real,” I say, “has a true treasure.” I think about it. “So you’re saying, even if I were yours, you wouldn’t fuck me when I’m drunk?”

“Yep. I’d want you to remember all of it.”

“I’ll remember it,” I insist. Even though minutes have slipped away tonight that I’m sure are lost forever. That I don’t and won’t remember. “What if we go back and sleep and then wake up and fuck?” I ask.

Because I want him so badly. I don’t know when I’m ever going to have another chance to be with my hotter-than-the-sun crush. And he’s just so sweet, besides.

“Yes, precious. That’s okay.” He yawns. “Sorry, darlin’. I was up early. Guess I’m a little tired. Wanna head back to the Strip?”

“Sure.”

“Share a Lyft again?”

“Sure.” I look around drunkenly. We can’t get a car here. They aren’t allowed in the pedestrian area. “We need to get to a place where they can pick us up. Then I’ll order a ride.”

We head in what I’m pretty sure is the right direction, but stop at a place selling shots and each take two more because the buzz is wearing off.

Then, when we’re almost to the street, we pass a twenty-four-hour wedding chapel, its doors open and the wedding march playing loudly from speakers. A group of ten people walk out, and a happy couple is kissing on the steps.

“Oh my god,” I whisper. “Look! We should do that!”

“Get married?” Johnny’s eyes are wide as saucers, even though they’re reddened by alcohol and smoke. “Why?”

“When in Vegas! Come on, Johnny Haskell. Marry me.”

“Are you serious?”

I nod.

“Why?” Johnny asks.

“I like you. And we’re in Vegas! We’ll be married, and then we can have our wedding night, and you can fuck me anytime you like.”

He widens his stance. “Darlin’, I’ve fucked plenty of men without being married to any of them.”

“But I want you to only fuck meeee,” I slur.

His eyes latch onto mine. “You’ve never fucked me. What if I suck?”

“I hope you do suck,” I say, and waggle my eyebrows, which makes him chuckle.

And he relents. “I guess, if this is the last night of my life, I might as well get hitched,” he mutters, low but audible.

What does he mean? This isn’t the last night of his life.

Maybe he’s talking about living each day to the fullest, and all that, because you never know what’ll happen.

I learned that lesson with Andrei.

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