You Always Remember Vegas

Chapter 4

"Uh, Phil, I don't think Doug would like us to take the Mercedes," Alan tells the taller man as we wait outside for the valet to bring us the car. 

"Relax, we'll be careful," Phil assures him. 

"You see, my dad is crazy about that car," Alan insists. "And he left Doug in charge-"

"Alan!" Phil begins but I walk away from the men, needing some peace and quiet. 

You better still be fucking alive, Doug, or I'll resurrect and murder you myself. 

"Hey, ma'am," I turn around, being greeted by a kind smile from a sexy young man. He must be around my age with hazel eyes and dark hair. His dark skin is glistening with sweat. Or has he come from the pool since he's only wearing a towel? I'm not sure because I'm too distracted by his exposed six-pack. 

"Yes?" I smile, hoping I don't look as wrecked as I feel. 

"I was wondering if you know where I can find the Apple store," He lifts up his phone. "I should've checked my pockets before jumping into the pool."

"Oh, God," I look at the soaking wet phone. "I'm sorry, no but I'm sure the front desk can help you."

"Well, thank you anyway, and have a good day," He waves me a "goodbye."

"Bye," I keep the smile plastered on my face, not helping myself from checking out his retreating figure. I do so openly since I'm wearing Phil's shades. 

I turn to look at the three stooges, locking eyes with Phil. Has he been watching this entire time? It almost seems like he's tensing his jaw but the thing is, he doesn't break eye contact until Stu captures his attention. 

"Uh, guys?" Stu points up as I walk back toward them. "Check it out."

They're removing something from the roof. 

"Is that the mattress from Doug's room?" Alan is the first to question. 

"What the fuck?" Phil curses. He pats someone on the back, pointing up. "Hey, man, what's going on here?"

"Some asshole threw his bed out the window last night," The man informs him. 

"Shit," I murmur. 

"Some guys just can't handle Vegas," He remarks. 

No fucking shit. 

My mouth falls open as I see the black material in one of the men's hands. He examines it and I notice then that it's torn. 

"Is this a dress?" He calls out to the other men. 

Yeah, it's my dress. 

"That was 60 bucks," I groan once the man gets into his car and leaves. 

"Get another one. You make the most money out of all of us," Stu says. I glare at him. "Sorry."

He knows I don't like talking about money. I don't think it's the utmost important thing in life. Yes, you need it for clothes, food, shelter, and other necessities but besides that, I don't like talking about how much money I make. I would say I'm a humble person-I am a humble person. 

I realize that Phil hasn't glanced in my direction since my encounter with that other man. He can't be jealous, can he?

I am released from my thoughts when a police car screeches to a halt next to me. I look at it quizzically when the valet steps out and turns to us. 

"Here's your car, officers." 

"Oh, God," Stu raspily says. 

"All right, everybody act cool," Phil tells us, looking at each of them except me. "All right, don't say a word. Let's just get in and go. Come on."