When The Wrong One Loves You Right

Touche, Pussycat

The ringing of my phone brought me out of my very deep and very sweet slumber. I sat up, taking note of a very disheveled Phillip lying next to me, dead to the world. I reached down for my crumpled up jeans on the floor and drew my phone from their pocket.

I took a deep breath. Of course it was Wynn again. I glanced at Phillip, then sent the call to voicemail. I slowly slipped off the bed, easily too small for Phillip's huge frame and impossibly tiny with the two of us in it. I slipped my underwear and jeans back on. By the time I was zipping up, Phillip was stirring. He grinned lazily up at me.

"Come back," he said in a gravelly voice, holding a hand out to me.

"Crazy," I replied. "We've been up here for two hours...your family..."

"Fuck them," Phillip returned. "Come back."

I sat down on the edge of the bed, finger combing my hair while Phillip wound his arms around my waist and buried his nose in my hair.

"Who was that?" he asked, his voice vibrating and rumbling pleasantly against my scalp.

"Hmmm?" I asked distractedly.

"I thought I heard your phone ring."

I shrugged, pulling an unconcerned face. "It wasn't important."

It might have worked...if my damn phone hadn't started ringing again, the blaring tone breaking the awkward silence that had descended. This time Phillip was staring over my shoulder at the screen. It was no use hiding it.

"Las Vegas?" he asked. And when I sat there in silence, not answering him or the phone, he pressed, "Well, aren't you gonna answer it?"

I looked at him over my shoulder. "No, because I already know who it is." I sighed. "It's a job offer. Steve Wynn wants me to come manage one of his casinos. The Mirage on the Strip."

Phillip was quiet so I continued. "He needs someone with my kind of experience and connections to book entertainment, keep the action rolling on the floor, make sure no one's cheating the house, and give the place a..."

"No," Phillip interjected.

I looked at him and saw he was shaking his head. "Excuse me?" I asked.

"I said no. You're not gonna take it. Call him back."

My mouth dropped. "I'm only considering it, Phillip, besides we're talking about a huge salary here..."

"Christ, Cameron!" Phillip exploded, angrier than I had ever seen him. "What the fuck? Am I not good enough for you?" He stood up, refastening his pants and almost shaking with fury.

I made an annoyed sound. "What's that supposed mean? How does this have anything to do with you? This is about me!"

He pointed at me. "Cameron, there is no you anymore. There's no me. It's us now." He gestured between the two of us with his hand. "We're having a kid together. Things have changed, Cameron. Can't you see that? You're not taking the job, Cam, and that's final."

"Well, I don't recall asking your permission!"

"Makes no difference. You're pregnant with my baby...mine! And I say you don't take the fucking job. You're staying right here, in New York, with me."

I threw my hands out. "Well, what am I supposed to do, Phillip? Spend the rest of my life on my back fucking you and pushing out babies?" I screamed.

I knew the family could likely hear us but I didn't care. Phillip grabbed me up by the waist again, slinging me over his shoulder.

"I'll tell you what you can do," he muttered, toting me into the hall and back down the stairs.