Wishes Washed Away
four.
I grab my things and pick up the phone again. "What's the number for a cab?" I ask, angry with Anthony. First, he sends me to a shitty neighborhood to lay low for a couple of weeks. Second, he hangs up on me. Give me anger.
Flash.
Give me pissed.
Flash.
Give me "the minute I get back to Baltimore, I'm wringing your fucking neck, Anthony".
Flash.
Brendon frowns. "If you want to go somewhere, I'll drive you down there; it's not that far. Besides, cabs are pretty expensive. Most of 'em are horrible drivers anyway." Image of that hideous cab driver, his yellow teeth and Southern drawl. He grabs his keys. "Maggie, if you want to go down to the Strip, we'll go."
"No, you don't understand." I glare at him. "I'm leaving. I'm staying at the Venetian. The Bellagio. Somewhere big, lavish and beautiful--not this dump." I stomp towards the foyer, praying that my stupid sidekick would receive some service.
Absolutely nothing.
"ARGH!" I shriek, stomping around in my black stilettos. My hat flutters onto the floor as my sundress calmly flows along with my erratic body movements. I kick one of my bags. "This is ridiculous! Hours, and my stupid phone still doesn't receive god damned service! I am going to sue this ridiculous company!"
Brendon's mouth is agape as he watches me throw a tantrum. He shuffles down the stairs, and I hear the garage door opening. The roar of an engine, and he comes back, reaching for two of the five bags.
"What do you think you're doing?" I interrogate, seizing his wrist. He just stares at my finely manicured nails. "You aren't driving me anywhere."
"Oh, but I am." He hoists up the heaviest ones and motions to them. "How about giving me a hand?"
"How about I don't?" I cross my arms. "I don't want your help."
"Well, you're going to get it anyway." Already, he carries them off into his black Volvo. "The sooner you help me out, the sooner we get out of here." I grab two of my bags and shuffle to the ugly car, tossing my things into the trunk. "Careful! I just got this car a couple months ago!" I roll my eyes, dropping the last bag anyway. He scowls, but gives up, hopping into the driver's seat. I slam the trunk shut and slip into the passenger's seat.
"You do realize it's the middle of the summer, and most people have made reservations in the expensive hotels, right?" I ignore him, checking my sidekick again. Raquel sent me another picture of her boyfriend. He's absolutely hideous. "Hey, Maggie, you listening to me?"
"Yeah, yeah." Raquel's borrowing my brown and white dress tonight. The minute I get home, I'm burning it.
After the quiet half hour drive, I step out of the car and strut into the Bellagio's main entrance. The clerk smiles pleasantly. "How may I help you, ma'am?"
"I'd like one of the nicest rooms available." I flash the boy with curly hair a grin, taking off my sunglasses. "The Vegas air is just...killing me." I hand him my Visa. "I don't mind the cost."
He swipes it, waits...
"Miss, it's not valid." He gives it back to me. I hand him my MasterCard.
Void.
Discover.
Void.
American Express.
Void.
Brendon crawls in and drapes an arm around my shoulders. "What's going on?" I glare at his arm as he cluelessly looks at the clerk. "Maggie, there something wrong?"
"My credit cards aren't working." I stomp out, Brendon trailing behind me. "Why the hell doesn't anything fucking work?!" I bought three dresses on that Visa last week, and Versace didn't give me any problems. But now, I can't buy anything at Christian Dior, watch Cirque du Soleil, or even stay at a luxurious hotel. Is the world trying to torture me?
"It's not the end of the world, Maggie. You can just stay at my place," Brendon says breezily. "Why do you need to waste that much money to stay in hotel that's not even that great?"
"Brendon, you don't understand." I flip my dark hair over my shoulders. "I live for luxury."
"Well if you don't have the cash, you can't live luxuriously. So just stay at my place until you figure out what's going on with your stuff." Then again, I could just go to the bank and pull out some money... "Seriously, Maggie; this isn't going to fix itself in one day."
I point to the Wachovia on the street corner. "Drive me there for a second."
He rolls his eyes but does what he's told. Good boy. "I'll be out in a sec." I calmly stroll into the bank and smile at the accountant. "Hi, I'd like to make a withdrawal." The middle-aged woman hands me a slip, which I quickly fill out. I flip it back to her, and she puts it into the computer.
She frowns. "Ma'am, I'm sorry, but this account is off limits."
I furrow my brow. "It's...what?"
"It's off limits. I'm really sorry." She rips up the withdrawal slip and tosses the pieces in the trash. "I hope you have a wonderful day."
"You too." Bitch.
I step back into Brendon's car, and his eyebrows are raised. "So, how'd it go?"
"My account is 'off-limits'," I grumble, wanting to take a swing at that idiot accountant. "This is ridiculous."
"Maybe a tour of the town'll get your mind off this mess." He backs out of the parking spot, and we cruise down the Strip. The beautiful bridge leading to the Venetian calls me. I frown. Give me pathetic.
Flash.
Give me embarrassed.
Flash.
Give me "I hate Vegas".
Flash.
Flash.
Give me pissed.
Flash.
Give me "the minute I get back to Baltimore, I'm wringing your fucking neck, Anthony".
Flash.
Brendon frowns. "If you want to go somewhere, I'll drive you down there; it's not that far. Besides, cabs are pretty expensive. Most of 'em are horrible drivers anyway." Image of that hideous cab driver, his yellow teeth and Southern drawl. He grabs his keys. "Maggie, if you want to go down to the Strip, we'll go."
"No, you don't understand." I glare at him. "I'm leaving. I'm staying at the Venetian. The Bellagio. Somewhere big, lavish and beautiful--not this dump." I stomp towards the foyer, praying that my stupid sidekick would receive some service.
Absolutely nothing.
"ARGH!" I shriek, stomping around in my black stilettos. My hat flutters onto the floor as my sundress calmly flows along with my erratic body movements. I kick one of my bags. "This is ridiculous! Hours, and my stupid phone still doesn't receive god damned service! I am going to sue this ridiculous company!"
Brendon's mouth is agape as he watches me throw a tantrum. He shuffles down the stairs, and I hear the garage door opening. The roar of an engine, and he comes back, reaching for two of the five bags.
"What do you think you're doing?" I interrogate, seizing his wrist. He just stares at my finely manicured nails. "You aren't driving me anywhere."
"Oh, but I am." He hoists up the heaviest ones and motions to them. "How about giving me a hand?"
"How about I don't?" I cross my arms. "I don't want your help."
"Well, you're going to get it anyway." Already, he carries them off into his black Volvo. "The sooner you help me out, the sooner we get out of here." I grab two of my bags and shuffle to the ugly car, tossing my things into the trunk. "Careful! I just got this car a couple months ago!" I roll my eyes, dropping the last bag anyway. He scowls, but gives up, hopping into the driver's seat. I slam the trunk shut and slip into the passenger's seat.
"You do realize it's the middle of the summer, and most people have made reservations in the expensive hotels, right?" I ignore him, checking my sidekick again. Raquel sent me another picture of her boyfriend. He's absolutely hideous. "Hey, Maggie, you listening to me?"
"Yeah, yeah." Raquel's borrowing my brown and white dress tonight. The minute I get home, I'm burning it.
After the quiet half hour drive, I step out of the car and strut into the Bellagio's main entrance. The clerk smiles pleasantly. "How may I help you, ma'am?"
"I'd like one of the nicest rooms available." I flash the boy with curly hair a grin, taking off my sunglasses. "The Vegas air is just...killing me." I hand him my Visa. "I don't mind the cost."
He swipes it, waits...
"Miss, it's not valid." He gives it back to me. I hand him my MasterCard.
Void.
Discover.
Void.
American Express.
Void.
Brendon crawls in and drapes an arm around my shoulders. "What's going on?" I glare at his arm as he cluelessly looks at the clerk. "Maggie, there something wrong?"
"My credit cards aren't working." I stomp out, Brendon trailing behind me. "Why the hell doesn't anything fucking work?!" I bought three dresses on that Visa last week, and Versace didn't give me any problems. But now, I can't buy anything at Christian Dior, watch Cirque du Soleil, or even stay at a luxurious hotel. Is the world trying to torture me?
"It's not the end of the world, Maggie. You can just stay at my place," Brendon says breezily. "Why do you need to waste that much money to stay in hotel that's not even that great?"
"Brendon, you don't understand." I flip my dark hair over my shoulders. "I live for luxury."
"Well if you don't have the cash, you can't live luxuriously. So just stay at my place until you figure out what's going on with your stuff." Then again, I could just go to the bank and pull out some money... "Seriously, Maggie; this isn't going to fix itself in one day."
I point to the Wachovia on the street corner. "Drive me there for a second."
He rolls his eyes but does what he's told. Good boy. "I'll be out in a sec." I calmly stroll into the bank and smile at the accountant. "Hi, I'd like to make a withdrawal." The middle-aged woman hands me a slip, which I quickly fill out. I flip it back to her, and she puts it into the computer.
She frowns. "Ma'am, I'm sorry, but this account is off limits."
I furrow my brow. "It's...what?"
"It's off limits. I'm really sorry." She rips up the withdrawal slip and tosses the pieces in the trash. "I hope you have a wonderful day."
"You too." Bitch.
I step back into Brendon's car, and his eyebrows are raised. "So, how'd it go?"
"My account is 'off-limits'," I grumble, wanting to take a swing at that idiot accountant. "This is ridiculous."
"Maybe a tour of the town'll get your mind off this mess." He backs out of the parking spot, and we cruise down the Strip. The beautiful bridge leading to the Venetian calls me. I frown. Give me pathetic.
Flash.
Give me embarrassed.
Flash.
Give me "I hate Vegas".
Flash.