Page 10 of Hot Mess
“What does that mean?”
There is a shuffling sound on the other end, and I can hear someone else scoff and say, "You're beyond over your head, my friend."
"Thatcher, what's going on?”
“I’m in big trouble. I owe some people a lot of money that I don’t have.”
“You have the club,” I offer, not understanding what is going on.
“I lost a lot of money at the poker tables and borrowed against the club. When the banks wouldn’t give me any more money, I had to find the money somewhere else.”
I knew it was too good to be true that Thatcher had somehow got his life together and had a successful business. Something told me there was something off about the way he was acting tonight, but I had no idea that it would be something like this.
“How much do you owe?” I ask.
“Two-hundred and fifty thousand.”
“Dammit, Thatcher.”
“Come on, Dyl, you were the only one I knew I could count on,” he says.
“You mean you thought I was too stupid to find out what you were up to and I’d just hand over the money. Isn’t that right?”
“No, I—” Thatcher starts to say, but something cuts him off.
“As fun as it is to watch you make your buddy here squirm and beg like a little bitch for the money, I don’t have all night.” The voice from earlier says into the phone. “Are you going to bring the money to the club? Or is this the last conversation you and your old pal are ever gonna have?”
Panic twists in my stomach, and I turn around to look for Jessie by the fountain. She isn't where I last saw her sitting. The flashing lights of a cop car at the end of the walkway catch my attention as I spot Jessie being led away in handcuffs.
“Fuck!” I shout.
“I don’t think he thinks you are as good a friend as you thought, T,” the man says to Thatcher.
“I’ll be there with the money,” I say and hang up the phone.
I start running across the plaza toward the cop car, but there are too many people in my way. I can't get to her before the car pulls off with Jessie in the backseat.
Every part of me wants to follow after her, but I know that Thatcher is in way more trouble. And despite him being a terrible friend, I can’t let anything happen to him. I will have to figure out what to do for Jessie after I save Thatcher. At least I know that she’s safe where she is going.
7
JESSIE
I was so naïve to think that this day would end anywhere but with me sitting in a jail cell. Loss of job. Loss of possessions. Loss of freedom. Yeah, that's about right.
Apparently, Madame Tulane is only accepting of nude wax statues that mimic sexual acts, but the actual act between two consenting adults is “over the line.” Dylan and I didn't make the clean getaway we thought we did—at least I didn't.
I was just sitting at the fountain, soaking my feet, which is another no-no, according to the Las Vegas police officers that were called by the maintenance man that nearly caught us in Madame Tulane’s. Dylan was far enough away with his back to me when the cops showed up looking for us. And I wasn’t about to snitch and point him out to the officers.
So, here I am, all by myself in my cell without a harmonica to play away my blues.
I just wish Dylan knew where I was, so he could come to bail me out. Despite spending most of the night together and a fantastic tryst in a utility closet, we didn't think to exchange phone numbers. Not that it would do me much good, considering they took my phone away and then told me I could make one phone call. They wouldn’t even let me have my phone to find a phone number for Bridget or Veronica.
All I could think to do was call the hotel and hope that someone was back in the suite to help me—no such luck.
I know it’s unfair of me to feel this way, but a tiny part of me is mad at Dylan. When you are left with nothing but your thoughts, it's easy to play the woulda, coulda, shoulda game in your head and find someone else to blame when deep down you know you are as equally to blame as he is. Especially since if I’d listened to Dylan and not asked him for a second round, we might have gotten away with it.
My anger will pass quickly as it's come. I'm not one to hold onto it. With the big picture of this shitty day, it’s easy to see that Dylan is the light I needed to keep me from spiraling. He got me to open and fall in love with him on this terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day. I’d be crazy to let someone like that slip through my fingers.
