The Eleventh Hour Page 2

  Maybe she should learn sign language and pretend to be deaf. This way she could communicate with her hands, and once she and a man had established a comfortable rapport, she could miraculously be healed and speak from that point forward.

  Addison wished she’d just grow a spine for a change and make the first move. This man was single, good looking, and obviously interested, right? She should just jot down her number, sashay over to him, and hand over the slip of paper with a flirty smile, miming the call me signal.

  Who was she kidding? That would never, ever happen, even if her life depended on it.

  She watched the slim, male steward in a maroon pants and vest demonstrate the evacuation procedures with flowing hand motions, while attempting not to have her vision slide off to the intriguing man on the left. When the male attendant made his last pass through the cabin, checking to make sure all passengers were securely fastened, Addison was about to absorb herself in her book, when out of her periphery she saw the man holding up his phone, angled toward her.

  On the white screen was the word, Hi, scrawled by hand in red ink.

  Her stomach curled with anticipation. Was this message for her?

  When she saw him turn in his seat and lift a hand with a slight smile, she realized he was most definitely trying to communicate with her. She watched him turn back to his phone, rub his hand across the surface, and then write with his index finger. After a few seconds, he held back up his device.

  White board app.

  Pretty cool stuff.

  Then more hand erasing ensued, before she read, You should download app, and then a shake of his head and more wiping.

  Never mind.

  No Wi Fi.

  Addison grabbed her phone and typed in her IPhone notepad, Will this work? And blew it up to eighteen point text.

  He gave her the thumbs up signal, erased his words, scribbled something on his screen, and then held up his cell.

  Las Vegas?

  She nodded, then sent, You?

  Yep. Bachelor party. He erased his words and then sent, Bachelor, with an arrow pointing to the stout, blonde man sitting across the aisle from him.

  She wrote back, Sounds fun.

  How about you? Business or Pleasure?

  She typed back, Business, adding a frown face, but then deleted it, not wanting to appear too cheesy.

  Are you a gambler? he asked.

  Feeling bold, she typed back, Depends what the reward is, and then felt her cheeks heat as he grinned devilishly.

  She could only imagine what was running through his mind so she quickly added, If it’s the spa, then I’m all in, so she didn’t look like such a tart.

  He laughed.

  Addison grinned back at him. She loved this way of communicating. She could write down her thoughts and then edit them if needed. This was even better than sign language!

  Feeling gutsy, she asked, What hotel are you staying in?

  The Wynn. You?

  Venetian.

  That’s close, he shot back, and then, You should come party with us.

  Maybe…she typed back, attempting to tease, which awarded her another boyish grin, the crinkles at his deep blue eyes only adding to his allure.

  At least it’s not a no, he sent back.

  But then the friend sitting next to him stole the phone out of his hands. He attempted to get it back, but the guy tossed it across the aisle to another friend. There was no way he’d get it back now without unbuckling his seatbelt and causing a scene.

  Addison couldn’t help the disappointment that flooded through her at their conversation coming to a close. Tucking her phone beside her leg, she tried with all her might to get engrossed in the book that she was reading, but her eyes kept involuntarily darting up to watch the group of men order cocktails, tease the female flight attendants, and harass one another with comfortable comradery.

  When the plane eased onto the runway, the tires bumping along the concrete path, Addison thought for sure she would see a message from the seat up ahead, but as far as she could tell, he never received his phone back.

  As the plane came to a final halt and the overhead speaker announced it was safe to move throughout the cabin, all passengers unclicked their seat belts and stood as they gathered their belongings, the aisle immediately filling to capacity. Hurriedly, Addison reached down for her purse and accidently dumped half the contents on the floor underneath the seat, bonking her forehead on the tray table in the process. Pushing her sun-streaked, brown hair behind her shoulders, she inwardly groaned, plopped back into her chair, and fumbled around, collecting her lip gloss, her wallet, her keys, along with all the spare change floating around on the floor. Once finished, she stood, craning her neck to see further up front, but was shielded by towering frames, as well as lowering luggage pieces, and was now officially barricaded in her row, completely stuck. Finally, she asserted her authority and stepped out into the pathway. Jimmying her suitcase overhead, she yanked and pulled, but the luggage wouldn’t budge. Finally, the man behind her helped dislodge the suitcase and eased it down to the floor. After thanking him profusely, she shuffled up the aisle as quickly as the line would allow, hoping with all her might that the man she had flirted with would be waiting.

  Hour two

  ADDISON FELT LIKE she was swimming through throngs of limbs and torsos, weeding through the mass of bottlenecked passengers tugging their carryon cases behind them. Multiple times, her bag got wedged between two moving barriers as she pushed her way to the right, before weaving to the left, all the while craning her neck, reaching to the tip of her toes, searching for the tall, dark-haired stranger. When the flow of traffic swelled, before releasing into the open air, she moved off to the side, once again on the balls of her feet, her head swiveling from one side of the terminal to the next, but didn’t see anyone even remotely resembling the man she was searching for. She picked up her pace, practically jogging down the congested hallway, zipping through families, swerving around children, excusing herself over her shoulder as she trotted further up the pipe. Not her proudest moment, but she even shoved a teenager aside, who was strolling gingerly while ogling his phone, to make sure she ducked onto the tram before the doors skated closed.

  As the tube coasted toward baggage claim, Addison reached in her navy handbag for her compact, clicked it open and checked her reflection. Not too bad, she decided. Although her rich caramel hair was a touch on the wilted side, and her lipstick was nowhere to be found, she still looked halfway decent. Her almond shaped eyes still held the emerald shimmery shadow, and her lashes -- her most cherished trait from her Asian linage -- were still long, dark, and full, almost touching her eyebrow bone. After patting her slender nose and cheekbones with a touch of translucent powder, she flipped the compact shut and shoved it back into her purse.

  When the doors smoothly glided open again, Addison power walked over to baggage claim, even though she hauled her only luggage behind her, her eyes scanning the passengers as she paused at each protrusion in the conveyor belt. When she hit the end of the line, she paused and listened intently. Although she heard the hum of the moving belt and a murmuring of multiple conversations happening simultaneously, she didn’t hear the loud raucous group that she so desperately desired.

  It was official.

  The cute stranger had disappeared in a puff of allusive smoke.

  Once again, Addison let a captivating man slip right through her fingertips. She knew she had him tentatively hooked, but was never strong enough, never bold enough to set the lure, the coveted fish releasing from the bait to be snagged by another, more proficient woman.

  Deflated shoulders slumped, she headed in the direction of ground transportation. As soon as she pushed through the double doors, the Nevada heat slapped against her chest, seeping into her lungs clogging her airway passages. She swallowed the thick cotton air, along with the lump of regret as she shuffled over toward the taxi line.

  Although Addison had been to Vegas several time
s, she had never stayed in this ritzy of a hotel before, and wouldn’t be now if it weren’t for her college roommate’s father having an excessive gambling compulsion. Her father had withered away so much money at this particular resort that he and his family were offered unrestricted, free hospitality whenever they were in the city, from executive suites, to elegant dining, to luxurious spa treatments, to front row sought-after tickets to any show available on the strip. And since Jessica was coming to the city for the weekend to visit Addison, she would be a beneficiary to his gambling addiction.

  Jessica, a tiny ball of fire who had energy oozing out of her pores, was waiting for her in the expansive, gilded, intricately painted, domed lobby. When she caught sight of Addison, she squealed, her small hands fluttering in the air by her cherub face as she took off in a sprint toward her and didn’t stop her high pitched squeak until she had vaulted herself into Addison’s arms, wrapping her child-sized legs around her waist.

  “Addy, Addy, Addy!” she shrieked as she peppered her cheek with woodpecker kisses. “You’re finally here!”

  “I’m so glad to see you!” Addison squeezed her juvenile frame, breathing in her heady, exotic scent. Jessica did nothing half mast, and that included her layering of perfume. “It’s been too long, my friend.”

  “Way too long,” Jess agreed as she released her legs, slipped to the floor, her platinum blonde pixie cut dipping over one eye. “You look amazing.”

  “You’re full of crap, but thanks.”

  Latching onto her suitcase, multiple bangles jingling, Jessica called, “Come with me. I’ve already checked us in.”

  Feeling like she was in an Italian cathedral, they swept past one marbled pillar after another, the floor underneath so shiny that it reflected the worn soles of their shoes, the ceiling so intricately detailed that it would take hours upon hours to fully appreciate. They wound through the outskirts of the casino, the glass chandeliers dimming as they neared the belly of the gambling hub, hearing the ching, ching, ching of slots and cheers from lucky winners, breathing in the trail of lingering alcohol, intermixing with the aftermath of stale smoke.

  This city never failed to uplift Addison’s spirits. Even though she wasn’t a gambler herself, the promise of reaching toward a dream, hoping with all your heart that the risk would be lavished with reward was something that she wished she could do, but couldn’t. She’d learned the hard way that when something looked too good to be true, it usually was, and gambling was no different. Sitting in a lavish hotel, with never-ending complimentary sparkling wine, while money rained down on you, just for pulling a shiny silver lever, wasn’t realistic….and if anything, Addison was realistic. Some even called her grounded beyond repair, which took that nice humble word and twisted it into something completely negative, but she was who she was and she couldn’t change what was engrained in her soul.

  Addison’s maturity probably stemmed from having to grow up much too fast, since becoming parentless on the eve of her eighteenth birthday. Her father died during a covert military operation in Iraq, her mother, heartbroken, fled back to her home country of Beijing, demanding that Addison come with her, but for once in her life, she refused. It was the pinnacle in her high school career, at the cusp of her senior year. She wouldn’t leave the only country she knew and flail around in a foreign land, chewing through a new language, only to return to the states six months later, when she turned eighteen and could officially emancipate herself.

  Thankfully, Emily’s parent’s agreed to take her in. Without having any parental guidance at her fingertips, Addison knew her teenage years could veer off in one of two directions. She could fall under the radar and make one bad choice after another, or she could eradicate that theory altogether and become an adult herself. By the time she walked the stage of her graduation with no blood relatives there to support her, she already had a full academic scholarship to the Art Institute in New York City and never looked back.

  Their suite at The Venetian, of course, was top of the line with the exterior wall a solid sheet of tempered glass, monogrammed fluffy white robes and towels, his and her separate, floor-to-ceiling marbled bathrooms, and the most beautiful bouquet of salmon-hued orchids, permeating the room with a rich, sultry fragrance.

  Dumping Addison’s suitcase on the couch, Jessica strolled over to the crystal-glass brandy canisters sitting on the desk and poured two fingers into separate glasses. “Are you too exhausted to go out tonight?”

  Addison plopped down in a Queen Ann’s chair. “You would think I would be after traveling, but actually I’m kind of wired.”

  Handing over her glass, Jessica, cheered, “That’s what I like to hear.” She took a seat next to the luggage, curling her short legs underneath her. “What are you up for? I know you don’t like gambling.”

  Addison took a sip of the amber liquid, enjoying the burn as it slid down her throat. She eyed her friend over the rim of her glass coquettishly. “I think we should check out The Wynn hotel,” she suggested with a sly grin, hiding her curved mouth behind the transparent barrier.

  Jess’ chin tilted. “O-kay. Any reason?”

  Addison shifted diffidently in her seat. “Maybe…”

  Her friend’s eyes bulged. “Addy! Who’s there?”

  “I don’t know,” she replied back honestly.

  Jessica’s brows furrowed. “What do you mean, you don’t know?”

  “Well, I don’t know his name. I met him on the flight out….well, not officially.”

  “So, you met a hot guy -- or you just drooled over him from afar?” her longtime friend inquired with a knowing smirk.

  “We actually conversed,” she answered, “I swear,” but left off the tidbit about doing it from across the plane over a hand-held virtual white board.

  “Finally!” she squealed. “Tell me about him!”

  “I don’t know much, other than he’s really cute and he’s here with some friends on a bachelor party. He asked me to come over to The Wynn and hang out.”

  “Excellent! Has he texted you about where to meet?”

  “That’s the problem. His friend stole his phone before we had a chance to exchange numbers.”

  “Pfft,” Jess scoffed. “You call that a problem?” She dropped her glass down on the table and plucked Addison out of her seat. “You go get all dolled up and I’ll take care of the rest.”

  Within the hour, Jessica had her parading through the rich, burgundy-carpeted casino at the five-star hotel, clad in her dressy jeans, shimmering gold camisole top, along with the four inch heels that Jessica insisted she purchase from the overpriced boutique before heading over. Since Addison was just in town for the convention, she had only thought to pack sensible shoes, comfortable flats, well-worn flip flops, and her trusted tennis shoes, but did throw in a couple of cute tops and her bathing suit, thank goodness.

  After the fifth loop around the entire casino, Addison’s ankles were aching and the balls of her feet were screaming with pain. When she traipsed by the Player’s Lounge for the umpteenth billionth time, Addy shuffled into the bar and collapsed into a high topped chair, exclaiming, “Put a fork in me; I’m done.”

  “Ah, come on, Ad. We can’t give up now. He has to be here somewhere.”

  “He’s the one that’s supposed to be wading through the crowd at our hotel looking for me.”

  Jessica pulled out a seat and dropped into it, saying, “Sometimes men just need a gentle shove.”

  Addison laughed. “A gentle shove? I think you wallop them over the head and drag them back to your lair.”

  One shoulder elevated to her ear. “What can I say? I’m a true feminist.”

  A man caught Addison’s attention in her periphery, due to him walking backwards, literally. It didn’t take but a split second for her to realize it was the guy from the airport. He was still dressed in the same pink pants and black t-shirt, but now sported a black baseball cap, slung low, the curls of his hair escaping behind his ears.

  When the
y caught eyes, he paused, a slow grin saturating his face. “I thought that was you.”

  Feigning surprise as her heart skipped a beat, she gripped Jessica’s knee and squeezed, attempting to sound casual. “Oh, hi! What are you doing here?”

  And then mentally slapped herself in the forehead for being so stupid.

  “I’m staying here, remember?”

  She blinked in rapid succession. “Yes, yes. I remember now.”

  He held out his hand. “I don’t think we’ve officially met. I’m Dawson Preston.”

  She latched onto his hand, hoping he wasn’t disgusted by her sweaty, moist palms. “Addison…” she fumbled for her own last name, which made his smile widen, “…Maynird.”

  Jessica cleared her throat as Addison clung onto his hand, still pumping his arm. Breaking through the fog, Addison continued, “And this is Tink.”

  He removed his hand with a chuckle. “Tink? Like in Tinkerbell?”

  Addison shut her eyes and shook her head. Why on earth did Jessica’s college nickname just pop out of her mouth?

  Thankfully, Jess took it in stride, claiming, “The one and only, but you can call me, Jess.” She linked her tiny hand in his. “Nice to meet you.” She stepped back into her chair. “We were just getting ready to order a drink, would you like to join us?”

  His hand disappeared in the pocket of his jeans, removing a handful of colorful poker chips. “Just let me cash these in and then I would love to.”

  As he sauntered out the wide opening of the bar, Addison exhaled her bottled breath as she wilted into the chair. “I’m totally screwing this up, aren’t I?”

  “Look, you just need to relax.” She waved over the bartender and ordered two cherry tootsie pop shots. Once the stubby glass filled to the brim with orange liquor was set in front of them, Jess pushed one in front of Addison, and then lifted hers in a toast. “To dropping inhibitions and letting people see your true beauty.”