Chapter 3

With a start, Marissa jerked awake. She felt around in the darkness. She was alone in the bed.

Blinking back the haze, she looked for the clock. 3:15. The curtains were drawn, but there was a soft light coming from the outer room. She slipped out of the bed and silently peeked around the corner of the door.

Alan was sitting at the desk, facing away from her and wearing only a bathrobe. His laptop was open in front of him. He was flipping through pictures on the screen.

Marissa could see the side of his face and the laptop LCD display. Tears streamed down his cheeks. He still hadn't heard her.

She looked over his shoulder and her heart jumped into her throat. Alan paused on a picture that must have been taken at his wedding.

He's married? she thought He doesn't wear a ring...

The picture was taken outdoors, in a garden somewhere. He was standing there, looking very handsome in his tuxedo. Next to him was a woman who would have been radiant even if she hadn't been in her wedding dress. The woman's appearance was what startled Marissa.

The two were built the same; their hair was the same length and colour, they had the same eyes and even some of the same features. The resemblance was close enough that they might have been sisters.

Marissa was in the business of fulfilling fantasies. Some clients asked her to dress up as a nurse or as a dominatrix, but this was the first time she realised that she had been hired based on her resemblance to someone else.

Whoever she was, the woman in the picture had Alan's heart. With a click of the mouse, he flipped to another picture, again of the two of them. The woman was very pregnant. Alan choked back tears.

Thoughts raced through her mind. Who was she? Why isn't she here with him? Does he want me to be her?

Why do I care?

The maternal part of her wanted to go over and take Alan in her arms. But she dared not interrupt his reverie, even as painful as it was for him. She decided he needed this private moment.

She needed one, too.

Alan was different. He was the first client who seemed to like her, and not just because she was going to be an easy lay for him. He stirred feelings in her that she had not allowed to surface for some time.

Marissa found that she was jealous of the woman. What was her name, again?

Silently, she slipped back into the bed and under the covers, not liking the feelings that she could seemingly no longer control. She pulled the sheets and comforter close around her. A part of her wanted to put the wall back up between her and Alan. That was the businesswoman in her. This was going to be a very lucrative week for her and all she had to do was hit the sack when he wanted to.

The other part of her wanted Alan, and not just for the week. She tried to forget all the nice things he did for her that he didn't have to; opening doors, holding her hand, dancing. Tender, gentle kisses. But she couldn't shake from her mind that he seemed like a really good person who treated her kindly. Like a lady.

Some time later, as the thoughts raced through her head, Alan came to bed. He spooned up next to her and had his arm around her, thinking she was asleep. His body shuddered and his breathing was sporadic. He was crying.

Marissa pretended she was still sleeping. Alan clung to her as the sobs came. She could no longer take it.

Rolling over, she took Alan in her arms. She cradled his head against her chest, the tears now flowing freely. She rocked him back and forth and stroked his hair.

Soon, she was crying, too.

Sleep claimed both of them not long later. They were restless all through the night.

Marissa didn't sleep in again. She heard Alan in the shower. The water shut off and a few minutes later he came out. The curtains were drawn and the room was still dark. Alan dug through the armoire for some clothes. He hadn't noticed that she was awake and was trying his best not to make any noise.

She watched him dress in silence and admired his body. He had his shoes in his hands when he looked over and saw her watching.

Their eyes locked. Neither said a word.

Alan came over next to her and sat down on the edge of the bed. He looked away, and sadness flashed across his face. He started to say something, but stopped and took a deep breath.

"Listen," he said quietly. "About this morning ... I—"

"Shhhh." Marissa sat up and put a finger over his lips. She put her arms around his shoulders and gave him a warm embrace. "Not now."

She turned his face towards her and kissed him tenderly.

"You're going to be late," she said finally. "Why don't you meet me for lunch? Same place."

He smiled slightly. "Sure thing."

Alan put his shoes on and went to find his bag. He stopped one more time by the bed and kissed Marissa softly on the cheek.

"Thank you," he whispered.

Then he turned and was gone.

Marissa fell back on the bed, wondering what had just happened between the two of them.

Trying not to overanalyse the situation, she hopped out of bed and slipped into the shower.

She dressed quickly and headed down to the main floor. She headed for the exhibition hall but found that it didn't open for another two hours.

Not wanting to go back to her room, and not really wanting any time to think, she dug out a couple hundred dollars from her purse and decided to find some mindless entertainment on the casino floor.

When 10:00 rolled around, she cashed out and headed straight for the TGR booth. Some time later, Marissa waited for Alan near the Pyramid Café. He was right on time and the two shared an awkward lunch.

Neither of them knew what to say, as if both expected the other to start the conversation.

Alan seemed distant, and Marissa felt like she had unconsciously put up a wall between them, too. They walked around for a little while, but didn't even hold hands.

He excused himself to head back to the conference seminars. Marissa checked her watch and then went off to take care of some business.

She was pacing nervously when Alan returned to their room. What she had done that afternoon would either make him very, very happy, or it would make him very, very angry.

When he came through the door, he had a puzzled look on his face.

"Hi," he said, trying to figure out what was going on.

Marissa smiled at him, trying not to fidget.

She knew he half-expected her to greet him naked, just like he asked the day before, but she was wearing a nice pants suit and looking all-business.

"Sit down," she said, immediately wishing she had found a different way to say it. A look of dread crossed Alan's face, even though he wasn't sure that the bad news was.

He set his things down on the desk and then sat on the couch. Marissa continued to pace back and forth.

"So what's up?" he asked, wanting to get it over with.

"I've done something without your permission," she said quietly. He took that pretty well. Some other guys might have started yelling, but Alan was at least going to hear her out.

"Like what?"

"I bought you some things for your restaurant." She steeled herself for the inevitable explosion.

There was a flash of anger in his eyes, but he remained calm. "Okay. What did you buy?"

"Well, I didn't actually buy anything." She went over to the desk and picked up a stack of papers. "But I pretty much committed you to buying all your stuff from TGR."

Alan started looking through the printouts and brochures as she handed them to him a few at a time. Brick ovens. Stoves. Fire-suppression equipment. Dish-washers. Walk-in freezers. Convection ovens. "Where did you get all this?"

"The Luxor loaned me a computer and a printer." Marissa pointed to the desk. When he came in, he hadn't noticed the monitor, keyboard, mouse and laser printer on top of it, nor the desktop tower on the floor.

"Don't you have to pay to rent all this stuff?" he asked.

"Um ... usually," she stammered. "But they're loaning this to me for free. I'll tell you about that later."

She directed his attention back to the printouts.

"I did some research and checked with a couple of the other vendors down in the exhibition hall. This is the best stuff available for the money."

"How did you learn about all this?" he asked, curiosity momentarily displacing his anger.

"Lovely thing, the internet," she said.

"Don't we have to pay for that, too?" He looked at her bewilderedly.

"Focus, Alan," she said. "I went back to see the guys at TGR and flirted with Chris and Ryan. They're going to sell all this stuff to you for $65,000. Do you like sushi?"

"Do I ... what? Yes." Alan looked even more confused. "You spent $65,000 of my money?"

"Sixty-four, nine eighty-seven, to be exact. That doesn't include tax or delivery, though. I didn't actually spend it, but I gave them a written commitment that if you bought it from anyone, it would be them."

"Did you check with anyone else? Or maybe with me?" his voice was getting louder. Marissa had a feeling it would come to this, and she really couldn't blame him.

"I did ... Check with some other people, I mean," she handed him another printout. "After some dealing, the folks at the American Kitchens booth wanted seventy-three six for the same equipment."

He stared in disbelief at the newest printout, a spreadsheet showing an itemised breakdown of all the equipment from a couple different vendors. She pushed another one into his hands.

"I did some more research on the internet, and the retail cost of everything individually is around seventy-five. Plus delivery."

His jaw dropped. Maybe this wasn't going to be as bad as she thought.

There was one final paper that Alan needed to see. It was a bid sheet. Marissa's name was signed at the bottom.

"They need a $10,000 deposit this week, but they can deliver any time," she said softly.

"How did—" Alan was at a loss for words.

Marissa smiled at him. "I wore a low-cut blouse and all Ryan could do was talk to my chest."

"You can't ... I mean ... we're not—" Alan struggled to form the words.

"Technically..." Marissa said slowly. "I do work for you..."

Alan looked again at the papers, letting it all sink in. She had just saved him over $10,000 and an afternoon of haggling with vendors. Not to mention a stack of research that he no longer had to do himself.

The anger was long gone from his face. It was replaced by disbelief.

"How did you get them to come down ten grand on all this stuff?" he asked.

"They didn't," Marissa replied with a wicked grin. "I negotiated the price of each piece individually. Ryan and Chris spent the better part of an hour staring at my cleavage and didn't add it up until we got to the final tally."

Very slowly, his face opened into a big smile. Alan stood and gave Marissa a big hug.

He lifted her off the ground and spun her around, laughing with joy.

She hugged him back, happy to have done a good job at something that didn't involve spreading her legs for someone else's pleasure.

Happier still that she had pleased Alan.

Her boss pulled back and planted a big sloppy kiss on her lips. She was eager to kiss him back. She got the feeling that he was about to trip her right there, when a knock came from the door.

"What the—" he asked.

"Room service," Marissa said with a slight smile. She wiggled out of his arms and smoothed out the wrinkles in her clothes.

He went to the door. Two stewards were in the hallway. They wheeled a cart into the room. With practised efficiency, they set up the cart near the couch and laid out drinks.

Alan slipped the pair a couple of dollars each and watched in amazement as Marissa finished setting up their dinner on the coffee table.

"I don't know what you like, so I had them send up a little bit of everything," There were half a dozen ceramic serving plates each displaying a wide variety of maki-zushi and nigiri-zushi. There was even a square lacquered bowl with some chirashi. They also brought a couple of salads, some steaming-hot miso soup and some warm sake.

Quite simply, Alan was stunned. He had no idea how resourceful his companion was, but in that moment, he was the most thankful man on the planet.

Marissa set the plates on the coffee table, then threw some of the pillows from the couch on the floor. She sat Alan down next to her and the two dug into the meal.

"I thought maybe you had heard of a nice place to go visit," he said, taking a long sip from his soup bowl.

Marissa smiled. "I wanted to stay in tonight."

They two of them picked their way through the meal, feeding each other and sharing the dishes.

"How did you arrange this little dinner?" Alan asked, slipping a small slice of salmon sashimi into Marissa's mouth with his chopsticks. "I don't even remember seeing a sushi bar in the casino."

"If you make friends with the right people, they can get just about anything here." Marissa picked up a piece of eel and salmon roll and dropped it on to Alan's plate.

"And just who are the right people?"

"Taylor, the pit boss over at the craps tables, has been very good to us."

"How much time have you been spending with other men?" Alan asked teasingly.

"She is very nice," Marissa giggled. "That's how we got the use of the computer and this magnificent feast."

"Is that what you're doing with all your free time?"

"That and buying commercial kitchen equipment."

"How are you doing?"

It took her a second to add up all the numbers in her head. "I'm six hundred down at the slot machines. They may say that the Luxor's got the loosest slots in Vegas, but from what I've seen, that's a big crock of shit."

"Pass me that plate with the rainbow roll on it," Alan said. "You've lost six hundred dollars and they're buying us dinner?"

"No," Marissa replied. "I'm up almost four thousand at the craps table and I'm up about twelve hundred at blackjack."

Alan nearly choked on the bite in his mouth. "You're up forty-six hundred dollars?"

"Almost double my money." She smiled proudly, referring to the cash advance Alan had given her before their trip started.

"How did you manage that?" he asked when he could breathe again.

"I haven't always been in the restaurant business," she replied with a wink.

"Really," he said. "How is it that in two days you can make almost five thousand dollars? It's not like casinos are in business to give money away."

"No they're certainly not," Marissa agreed. "The trick is finding which games have the lowest house advantage and not being cocky. Pass the soy sauce, please."

"So you've been playing craps and blackjack."

"And slots."

"And slots. Don't tell me you just learned Las Vegas table games this week," Alan said incredulously.

"Of course not," she snorted softly. "Dad used to play poker with his friends once a week. He taught me how to play all sorts of games, count cards and do the math in my head. Card games are all about statistics, probability and patience."

"What about craps?"

"I was bored and got on a hot streak," she shrugged and flashed him a lucky smile.

"Don't tell me this is the casino's reward for you taking their money."

"Not quite," Marissa finished the last bit of roll on a plate and set it aside. "This is their way of rewarding me for giving them the opportunity to take my money, and they hope it will entice me to come back and give them a chance to win their money back and take a little bit more from me."

"You're an amazing woman, Marissa," he breathed softly. "Thank you."

Her heart skipped a beat. The way he was looking made her stomach flutter. He was appreciating her, not what she could do for him, not for how pretty she looked, but just for being herself.

"For what?"

"You've saved me over ten thousand dollars today." He stopped for a moment, unsure of what to say. He smiled instead. "And you bought me dinner. I guess this means I'm yours tonight."

The two of them laughed.

"To you," he said, raising his cup of sake.

"To us," she replied. Their cups clinked together and they downed the warm liquid.

Soon, they were both full. It was still early, but neither of them really wanted to go out. Alan turned the television on while she went in the bedroom and changed. She came out in a nightie that was neither frumpy nor risqué. She sat down next to Alan on the couch and rested her head on his shoulder.