Chapter 14
March 1973 – 35,000 feet
At the rattle of the stewardess' cart, Angela lifted her head from Brian's shoulder. She blinked her eyes. "How long have I been out?"
Brian shrugged, "I just woke up a minute ago, but it was probably a couple of hours. The captain just announced we're 90 minutes away."
"Mmm." Angela turned to face him. "I need to tell you again how glad I am to be here with you."
Brian met her gaze. "I've been Hippomenes after Atalanta since the bean bag. I'd risk it all to run with you." He turned back to face forward, and reached over to put a hand on Angela's thigh. She sucked in her breath.
Angela sat in silence with her eyes closed, reveling in the biggest high she'd ever experienced. But a rough thought still managed to push its way to the front of her mind. Risk is right! Why do you have to go to Mexico? I can barely breathe thinking about where I'll be in 24 hours. …No. I don't care. She looked over at him. It's far riskier to ask.
March 1973 – The Sands Hotel & Casino, Las Vegas
When the taxi pulled up in front of the hotel, the driver unloaded their bags onto the curb, and the bellboys carted them away. While Brian went to the front desk and signed for the room, Angela's heart was hammering. I can't believe this is happening right now! She tried to low-key stretch out the stiffness from the flight as a cover for her nerves.
When he finished, he turned to look at her. "Ready?" Angela nodded, but didn't exhale. As they walked toward the elevators, Brian asked, "Hey, so after we get settled, do you want to hit a breakfast buffet and walk the strip for a little while? I'm dying to stretch my legs and, I mean, we both slept through the meal on the plane." He wants to eat and stretch? More than have sex with me? …Maybe he really is that stiff. Maybe he really is that hungry….Ugh! Really? Maybe I'm not that tempting.
"That sounds great," she said as the elevator doors shut. Maybe I could prepare myself more anyway.
The king size bed was the first thing Angela saw as she put down her carry-on. "I'll just be a minute," Brian said as he went into the bathroom.
I wonder if he's even thinking about sleeping with me. He didn't exactly respond when I hinted at it earlier. Maybe he's playing it cool. Maybe this isn't his first time. Probably not. There's no way I'm asking. He already has plenty of reasons to dismiss me as juvenile; I'm not about to add to the list.
After they freshened up and changed, they walked to the nearest of many available buffets. The closer they got, the more she liked his idea. "I could really go for some waffles," Angela said excitedly.
Brian mirrored her enthusiasm, and started to talk fast. "If we can go by the billboard, they have that, pancakes, eggs, steak, bacon, biscuits & gravy, fruit…" Angela laughed. "A cornucopia of pleasure." That hung in the air for a second.
"As long as they have coffee," she yawned. Two can play at that game, she thought with an internal smirk.
At the restaurant, Angela got her crisp Belgian waffle with a generous swirl of whipped cream. Brian looked up from the brochures he'd been flipping through. "It looks like if we wanted to see Wayne Newton, he's playing tonight."
"That's nice," Angela smiled slightly.
"I'd love to see you all dressed up; Persephone, rising from the shroud of the every day."
"It has been a while since I got to do that…There are plenty of boutiques…" I'm sick of this game. I really liked us just letting each other know that we liked each other. Angela shrugged and smiled sadly,"I just want us to be together."
Brian's voice deepened and slowly scooted right up next to her in the booth. "We will be."
Angela put her hand on his thigh. "Do you mean that?"
Brian swallowed, and nodded. "Yes. Yes, I do."
"Then let's go find something to wear tonight," Angela said determined.
In light of her lack of sleep, Angela opted to get her hair and makeup done by professionals.
That evening, Brian stepped out of the taxi in his tuxedo, and looked up at Angela as she exited the salon. Though still with his wits, they came out slower, and through a gaping mouth. "Queen Persephone emerges from the Underworld…"
Her long and light hair was set in a polished pony with slanted bangs. She'd chosen a blood red, Prada gown, with a wide, scooped neckline, ruffled cap sleeves, and a large, chic bow, tied at her left shoulder. Skinny, horizontal ruffles wound around the bodice to the hips, and spilled flowing satin down to her white slingbacks.
"She walks in beauty, like the night…" Brian started.
"I want to say, 'Nice try,' but, no," Angela countered with a tipped smile.
Brian shook his head in a smiling, open mouthed appeal. "I'm sorry; I've simply run out of my own words."
A genuine smile formed on Angela's lips. "That sounded good."
Brian opened the cab door for her, and she crouched to get in. Then she stood up, with the door between them, and looked him in the eye. "You look very handsome, Brian," she said with a soft sincerity that momentarily broke through his stuffy bravado. He smiled slightly and nodded, and they got in the car.
Angela looked over at Brian as Wayne Newton's smooth voice proffered the crowd, "Hello, Young Lovers". Brian looked back at her, and smiled as he squeezed her hand. Angela smiled back, and returned her gaze to the stage. This is actually really nice. I love big band and old school jazz.
Her good spirits were maintained by the steady sipping of her merlot. But at the first line of, "You're Nobody 'Til Somebody Loves You", she finished it off and ordered another.
Brian watched the performance, and drank his wine. Mr. Las Vegas wound his way through his setlist, and ended with "Release Me". Angela was getting a headache. She was just about to order another wine for the road, when Brian asked, "Wanna play Blackjack? I'm feeling lucky!"
"Surrrre," Angela drawled out. "WHY not?" She said a little too animatedly. Brian looked like he was going to say something, but didn't.
"Okay, then." He offered her his arm, and they walked out of the theatre.
The casino was bustling with bodies, and game show dinging was going off constantly. They got a shrimp cocktail, and walked over to the Blackjack table. Brian sat down, and looked at Angela standing next to him. "You don't want to play?" he asked a little nervously.
"No, I think I'll just watch from here," Angela said enigmatically. His eyebrows rose and fell in acceptance, but settled into the game nonetheless.
The dealer waited patiently as Brian studied his hand and the $100 in chips he'd wagered. He'd been first dealt a queen, and she smiled up at him from the table. Brian fingered the six in his hand. The dealer was showing a ten.
Angela put her hand on his shoulders, and started to move her fingers lightly along his neck. Brian blinked a few times, and shuddered. He was about to speak when Angela bent down straight at the waist to whisper in his ear. "Careful, you might lose her." Brian turned to stare at the cleavage she offered him and gulped. She smiled, and straightened.
"Hit me," Brian said firmly to the dealer.
The dealer slapped the next card down in front of Brian. A five. Brian let out a loud laugh, and pinned the six up on the table. The dealer flipped over a king.
"The house has twenty. Congratulations, sir."
Angela pulled Brian up to stand, "Yes; congratulations, sir," she smiled coyly. "Ready to go?"
"Already? I'm just getting hot!"
"Hmm," she mused with a closed mouth. "Sounds like a difficult burden to bear," she added dryly. He frowned a little.
"Yes, well, I can do something about it." He put another $100 bill on the table, and the croupier immediately exchanged it for chips.
Angela asked the waiter for a glass of wine, and Brian ordered one also, without looking up from his cards. The waiter brought them quickly, and Angela downed hers before Brian's could be placed on the table.
"I'm going to get a sandwich," Angela said walking away, glass in hand.
"Can you get one for me, too?" Brian called after her.
Angela didn't turn around, but did stifle the urge to make her acknowledging wave a single finger. Sighing, she walked to the buffet. She really needed to eat something.
She found a decadent display of a 10-foot-long, roast beef, submarine sandwich, sliced in individual portions, and delightedly partook. Alone in a booth, bread crumbs dropping down her dress, Angela thought, This isn't exactly the romantic weekend I'd imagined. She bit off a giant wad of sandwich, and chewed it like a cow. She looked over at the buffet table. They have pudding! Angela felt a little fuzzy as she slid out of the booth and walked over to get a cup of the rich fantasy. "Mmm. I remember you," she spoke dotingly to her pudding, still standing by the table. "You don't leave me." She put a large spoonful into her mouth. "You always make it better," she muddled, mouth full of chocolate.
Angela scraped the bottom of her glass bowl several times. Sighing sadly, she placed it on another couple's table as she walked by. She snatched a cut of sandwich from the buffet, and grabbed a fabric napkin from the nearest booth. On the march back to Brian, she noticed her feet hurt rather profoundly, and plucked another glass of wine from a waiter's tray.
"Sandwich." She said as she stuck the food in Brian's face. It took him a couple of seconds to adjust his focus.
"Angela, I'm afraid I've had a few shots, and I can no longer see through sandwiches," and he moved his head to look at the stoic dealer. "Hit me."
The dealer handed him a nine. "That's 24. House wins."
Angela looked down at Brian, but didn't see any chips next to him. "The house always wins," she said airily. Then, to not anyone in particular. "If only there were a way we could win, too...That'd be a whole lot more fun." She kind of bobbled her head, and focused on Brian. "I like to win. Too bad you don't." She gave a little sigh, and walked away.
After a couple of seconds, Brian got up and followed her. "Angel?" Brian whined. "Why did you say that?"
"Why did you invite me here?"
"I wanted to be with you."
"No, you don't," Angela said exaggeratedly, with a dramatic whip of her pony tail. She poked her finger at his chest. "You want me to stand next to you on your Vegas vacation."
He stood there, wide eyed, trying to evaluate the situation through the haze of drink. He rubbed his left hand by his eye. "So…what do you want?"
Angela was done being diplomatic and passive. "I WANT you to WANT me! You did in Connecticut! Didn't you? What do I have to DO?
"I do want you! I just…don't deserve you. I'm not…I'm just…I can't handle you." This puzzled her enough to make her think.
"…What?" She put her hand to her temple, to help steady herself.
"I'm just Brian Thomas! The guy everybody laughs at! The guy nobody takes seriously. The guy nobody understands. The guy who's flunking out of his classes!" He started to speak softer, and more serious. "And you're…smart, and…the most beautiful golden nymph I've ever seen." He looked down. "I don't deserve you."
The fuzz in her head lit her way to him like lights on a runway. Her hands flew up to his chest, and in one motion, she slid them up to his shoulders and down his arms to make them embrace her. Then she kissed him hard, sucking his top lip and pulling him down to her height. Bringing her hands back up to his head, she combed her fingers into his hair, and opened her eyes. "Marry me."
Brian's eyes shot open. "What?"
"You heard me. Marry me." At his quizzical look, she explained as best as she could with the drinks dragging on her mind. "If there's one thing I understand…it's not feeling like I deserve something good." Angela shook her head back and forth dramatically. "You're NOT going to feel like that with me. I know you're worthy of me. You need to know it, too."
Brian laughed, and kissed her back.
"…Okay," he grinned.
They walked hand-in-hand to the concierge desk, where they were given directions to the nearest chapel. But after almost tripping on the curb, they decided to let their taxi driver pick one. They were out in twenty minutes, and their driver brought them back to the Sands.
Angela's brain felt swollen inside her head, but as he set her down on the other side of the threshold to their room, she focused in a way she didn't know she could. She felt sure and oddly clear, despite the haze.
She turned toward him, and with her red lips parted and her head tilted, she slowly untied his bowtie. He leaned down to kiss her neck, and her chin flew back like she was gasping for air. She felt his hands reach around to unzip her dress, and she held tightly to his shoulders. Her dress dropped with a gently whoosh over her black, strapless bra and panties. Brian picked her up, and she stared into his eyes. I can't believe we're married. I can't believe this is just the beginning. He laid her on the bed, and she didn't even know when her shoes came off. He crawled up next to her on all fours, and bent down to kiss her mouth. Angela raked her hands through his hair, and then down to his collar to pull his lips closer.
Taking a breath, he breathed heavily, "Angela, make no mistake. I do want you. I want to breathe you. I want to be in you."
Angela felt like he had just unchained her. Going entirely on instinct, she flipped him over. She crawled on top of him, and held him there by his wrists. And between the slightest whisper of kisses under his ear, she told him, "I've been dying to return the favor."
Angela woke up to the sound of the shower going. Grabbing her head with both hands, she moaned in pain. "Ohlff! My HEAAAD!" She managed to roll out of bed, and get her footing, albeit like Bambi trying to walk. Naked, with both hands still smashed to her forehead, Angela stepped into the steam of the bathroom.
"Hey," she said. But he didn't answer. "Hey! Owww!" she said much louder.
"Heyyyy," Brian let out in a low, throaty moan. He pulled the curtain back slightly to speak. "I'll be out in a minute," he said with much effort.
Angela left the bathroom, and went back under the covers. Brian came out a couple of minutes later with his hair slicked back and a towel around his waist, but he didn't look at her.
That's weird. She smiled up at him, trying to get his attention. "I bet the shower helps?" He finally looked and her, smiling sadly.
"What's wrong?" Angela asked, getting worried.
"I ordered some coffee and eggs." She looked at him confusedly. "…The room is paid through tomorrow. Feel free to stay." Angela felt the floor drop out from under her.
"What?"
"Angela. I still have to go. …I have to go to Mexico." A sobering sharpness came to her mind.
"What? Why?" Angela was breathing fast and hard.
"Because I have to go and be heard. I still have to learn!"
"Learn what?!" she demanded. They were both holding their heads in their hands, and cringing at every sound.
"Art! Poetry!"
"You don't speak their language!"
"I don't need you acting like I'm an idiot! I thought you took me seriously."
"I DO." Angela purposefully slowed her breathing, and tried to calm down. "What is it these artisans have that you can't get here?"
"Angela, they've been artists for thousands of years, passing the same methods down in a line like an unbroken monarchy. They know more than our professors do." Angela kept focusing on her breathing.
"You're not graduating? You're…trying a new approach? For how long?"
"I told you; I don't know. But I'm just going to regroup. I need to remember why I'm so passionate about poetry. I need mine to be heard, to be validated. I'll be on Academic Probation in the fall, but I can finish by Christmas."
"I thought you needed me."
"I did. I had a great time." What? He was just horny?
At her shocked and hurt look, he continued. "You built me up when I was in ruins. But I've gotten lost at Yale. I need time and space to find me again." I can't believe this! The first time I've ever given all of myself to someone, he says thank you and gives it back?
She looked down, and giant tears started falling into the sheets on her lap. Brian became visibly distressed, and sat down next to her on the bed. "Angela please don't cry. I must depart. For me. For the poetry I will create. For my destiny. Don't you believe in art?"
Angela cried harder. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders, and started to cry himself. "Oh, I'm sorry, Angela. I know you believe in art. You believed in mine when no one else did." He's already gone …and I have no idea if I ever actually meant anything to him. She sniffed a nostril full of snot, and looked him in the eye. And I can never ask him. He might say no.
