John Locke - Vegas Moon

“God, you’re good looking when you do that,” she says.

“Do what?”

“That whole clueless thing. You need to cultivate it. It works for you.”

This is something I already know. And she’s right. It does work. Problem is, it’s not an act.

“Let me give it to you from a woman’s perspective,” she says.

“Okay.”

“I’m young and sexy, Phyllis is a drone. I’m not being cocky or putting her down. These are the facts. Phyllis wanted Lucky. Don’t ask me why, but let’s assume she wanted him.”

“Okay.”

“They probably met around the time Lucky and I got married. They were certainly having sex before Lucky made her start fixing my flaws.”

“You’re saying she didn’t like the idea of making you even more appealing to him?”

“Exactly.”

“Because she considered you her rival?”

“There may be hope for you yet.”

I think about that a moment, and then it hits me.

I know exactly where the device is hidden.

Gwen touches the area between my legs and says, “I think we’re getting close here.”

“I agree.”

“I bet if I lick your lollipop I can make you big and strong. Would you like that?”

Would I like that?

Why not ask if I’d like world peace. An end to hunger. A cure for cancer. Yes, absolutely! But I’m struggling to say something cool. Finally, master of bedroom dialogue that I am, I come up with this pearl: “Sure!”

It ain’t Hemmingway, but it gets her to slide down the bed.

Gwen isn’t as skilled as Miranda, but she’s working hard, and I’m responding in kind. We go from oral to something my former Commander in Chief would be forced to call sex. What Gwen lacks in experience, she makes up for with enthusiasm. I’m not getting every last ounce she’s got to give, but I’m getting plenty. And just when she gets me to the very edge of ecstasy…

My cell phone rings.

It’s a specific ring. I have four caller-specific ring tones, and I haven’t heard this one in months.

“Damn it!” I say.

“Let it go, baby,” Gwen says. “Tune it out. Keep riding the ride.”

“I can’t. It’s my boss.”

“Lucky?”

“It’s my real boss.”

“Make him wait. Call him back.”

“You don’t understand.”

“You’re right, I don’t. I guess you’d better take the fucking call. It’s not like you’re doing anything important.”

I stretch to reach for the phone, an act that disengages me from my lover faster than I’d like to admit.

“Asshole!” she says.

29.

“Creed, it’s Darwin.”

“What’s up?”

“I got a job for you.”

I jump to my feet.

“When?”

“Now.”

“Is it—”

“Important? Very.”

Here’s the thing about Darwin. He lets me do whatever I want, ninety-nine percent of the time. Even helps me by providing resources like body doubles, cleanup crews for people I kill, government airstrips, highest government clearance…you name it, I get it. But when he says something’s important, it means one thing: the country’s in danger.

“What do you need?”

By the time he tells me, Gwen is not only boiling mad, but completely dressed. I’m standing here naked, with the same handsome face she adored a few minutes ago, but I’m getting a vibe that our time here is done.

When I hang up she says, “Maybe I should be fucking him.”

If what I suspect is true, that Gwen gets off on fucking men she perceives as powerful, then Darwin probably is the man for her. Then again, I’ve never laid eyes on him, so he could be totally wrong for her. He could be anyone I run into on the street. Could be a woman, for all I know, since he uses voice altering equipment on the phone. In fact, Gwen is the only person I know who can’t be Darwin, since I was with her just now while talking to him. Then again, you never know with Darwin.

“I need to take you home,” I say, getting dressed.

“No. I’m going to buy an outfit. For tonight. I’ve decided I’ll be in the mood when Maddie comes. And no, you can’t watch. You’ll have to listen from outside the locked door.”

“I won’t be there.”

“What? Why not?”

“I have to leave town. It’s urgent.”

“You’re supposed to be guarding me. I mean, us. What about Connor Payne?”

“That’s what the phone call was about,” I say, lying through my teeth.

“Connor Payne is your boss?”

“No, of course not. But my boss tracked him down. He’s in San Francisco. I’m going there tonight. To kill him.”

Her eyes widen. “No shit?”

I look into those wide, mud brown eyes, and say, “I’m doing it for you, Gwen. I’m going to murder one of the most powerful men on earth. But first I’m going to punish him.”

“Why?”

“Because he frightened you.”

“Oh, Oh, wow!”

“I’m going to reduce him to tears.”

“Oh, Oh, Oh, my God!”

“I’m going to make him shit his pants like a frightened child!”

“Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh my God! Oh, Oh my GOD!”

“And when he’s on his knees, begging for his life, the last words he’s going to hear before I snap his neck like a dead twig is, ‘This is for Gwen.’”

“Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh my God!” she screams. “Oh! Oh! Oh my God! I’m getting wet!”

It’s true. She’s as worked up as anyone I’ve ever seen.

“Fuck me, Donovan! Fuck me! Fuck me right now!”

“There’s no time.”

From somewhere deep in Gwen’s throat a moaning sound is born. By the time it escapes her lips, it is unlike any sound I’ve ever heard. Her eyes are half-closed, her head is lolling back and forth. Her hands are shaking.

“Donovan. Please!” Oh God, I’m not kidding!”

She slaps my face as hard as I’ve ever been slapped.

“Fuck me!”

“I can’t.”

She slaps me again.

“Fuck me!

“Sorry.”

“Fuck me! Now!”

She slaps me again.

“Right Now!”

And again.

I look at my watch. “I don’t know…”

“Please!” She starts tearing her clothes off.

I’m bluffing about the time. I’ve got hours before I have to go save the world. This is all about coming at her the way I finally decided she wants to be fucked. And this time I guarantee I’m going to get every last ounce she has to give.

30.

“After you kill Conner Payne,” she says.

“Yes?”

“Will I ever see you again?”

“Of course.”

We’re in my car, heading back to her place.

“When?”

“I’ll be back before sunup.”

“Swear to God?”

“Swear to God.”

“Because Lucky owes you money?”

“No. You already told me he can’t pay.”

“I lied. He’s got a million dollars in his safe.”

I pause. “Why tell me that now?”

“Because I’m yours now. If you want me. And if we take Lucky’s money, you won’t have to support me.”

“You’d leave him?”

“For you? Are you kidding me? Guy’s a loser.” She pauses a minute. “You do want me, right?” As if it never dawned on her I wouldn’t.

The correct response in this situation is, Of course I want you! You’re very important to me!—And I am going to say that.

In a minute.

But first I say, “You’re a bit moody.”

“I know, honey,” she says. “But I don’t have to be. I mean, I wouldn’t be moody if I were with you.”

“I’ll require a lot of sex.”

“Good thing I’m so young,” she says. “By the time I stop liking sex, you’ll be an old man.”

“In that case, of course I want to be with you! You’re very important to me.”

“Really?”