The House of Blues
Vegas, 2008

?Baby, come on. We both know you want me,? the redhead practically purred in Chris's ear, a hand sliding slowly up against a jean-clad leg before he stopped her. She was tall and round in all the right places and smelled like an intoxicating blend of jasmine and roses, enough to make his head spin.

Chris shoved his glasses back up onto his nose and tried not to whimper like a pathetic schoolboy. Though his brain was saying no, his body had a mind of its own, and he was feeling something in his nether regions he didn't want to be feeling. Not now, not with her. ?Look, I like you and all, but I've got a girlfriend, and if she catches me with you, she's gonna kill me."

She stalked easily through the people gathered. Her height was enough to keep her easily hidden among so many. Though there was a redhead, curved, slutty, and look there, that dark hair, blond spiked, that same nervous jitter he got when he knew she was close. She shook her head and her eyes were now becoming narrowed slits.

"Hey baby, here for the concert?" some drunken male asked as she passed him.

"Piss off, numb nuts," was her growled reply as she stalked toward Chris and the redhead.

The redhead pouted her painted red lips and grazed Chris's jaw with a red-tipped fingernail, exhaling a breath and steaming up his glasses. His only response was a nervous whimper up at her.

He knew he was in trouble, whether he?d encouraged the redhead or not. All he had really been guilty of was tossing a whistle her way, and here he was with a gorgeous showgirl all over him that didn't seem to know the meaning of the word no.

Rocky stopped right behind that redhead and grabbed her hand away from Chris's face. "Hey baby, I bet he can't make you scream like I can." She turned then to face him, before twisting that woman's red tipped finger until it snapped like a pencil, of course, causing her to scream. "Five fucking minutes." She shoved him at this point. "Wait here, I'm getting us a drink. Apparently I was in line long enough for you to find some damned redhead?" She was furious.

Chris found himself shoved up against a wall with nowhere to go, looking as guilty as sin and as speechless as a kid who had just been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. "What?" he stammered stupidly. "I didn't do anything! I didn't find her! She found me! I didn't even kiss her!" There was evidence of red lipstick on his cheek, but that was neither here nor there. The redhead had done the kissing, not him.

People were starting to gather at the scene, and that redheaded woman was backing away as Rocky turned to get ready to lay down more of a pain storm on her. Ready for that anger to be released and why not against her? "Oh sure. You had nothing to do with it." Over her shoulder as she grabbed a handful of red hair, "I'm not wearing lipstick, Hotshot." And that poor woman was slugged.

His eyes widened at the cat fight taking place in front of him, and he pushed off the wall to try and pry the firecracker that was his girlfriend off the nameless redhead who he had dubbed Lola.

Her name was Lola, she was a showgirl. With yellow feathers in her hair and a dress cut down to there.

"What lipstick?"

'Lola' was scratching at Rocky, and Rocky was fighting like a guy. There were no nails being used; it was all small fist packed with a nickel roll. "On your cheek." Another punch thrown.

"I hope he kicks your ass." Lifting her head to look over her shoulder and his to see that mountain of a man.

Crap, he didn't want to fight. He was a computer geek. He hadn't signed up for this. The night had gone straight to hell. He considered rushing the guy and ramming him with her heels, but he wasn't sure she'd cooperate.

"Hey, he just whispered to me that you look like someone he'd love to love," said to the big man. "Said you'd be pretty bent over even." She wasn't helping.

He rolled his eyes and gulped. She'd just sealed his death warrant. "Don't listen to her. She's just pissed because some hottie was hitting on me."

The mountain man uncrossed his arms, narrowed his eyes, and took a step forward.

"Here comes the bride...half a mile wide," she said watching the guy step forward. "Maybe you can type him to death, or smear what's left of that slut's lipstick into his eyes."

It was now or never. He grabbed one of the heels from her foot and rushed forward, swinging the shoe at the guy's head.

She brought the other up for good measure, though she wouldn't admit to helping him. Right under the big guy's chin and into his throat. Something about a throat shot takes the fight out of most people, no matter how big they are.

He didn't really want to injure the guy, just get him the hell out of the way. The mountain man went down like an enormous sack of potatoes and he hopped over the fallen body and pushed his way out into the night, with her still dangling over his shoulder. He tossed her shoe over his head and broke into a run toward the first available taxi cab. He hastily pulled the door open and tossed her inside, sliding in after her, a quick glance back at the casino. "Drive!?

The cab driver peered into the rear view mirror at the couple. "Where to?"

"Anywhere! Just fucking drive!"

She was pulling on the opposite handle to get out, until the guy started driving, then she just glared at Chris. "You threw my shoe at him."

His glasses had slipped down his nose and he pushed them back and exhaled a sigh of relief. "I don't know how you walk in those things."

"You weren't complaining until that bitch showed up."

He leaned back against the seat and shoved his fingers through his hair, looking more than a little frazzled. "Who? Lola? She came onto me!"

She reached over and smacked him several times.

He flinched and got smacked, reaching for her flailing wrists. "Ow! Son of a bitch! Would you listen for a second?"

"Treasure Island," Chris instructed the cabbie. Yeah, what a joke that was. There wasn't gonna be any treasure for him on the island tonight.

"The fuck I am!" Rocky continued, not missing a beat. "Stone said all those times you guys were out you had some form of chick following you around and that you loved every minute of it!"

"Baby, they didn't mean anything!" There it was -- the line of doom.

"Even so far as to show him your tool, asking if there was rust on it... when it was just rug burn from that Japanese whore." Then she glared at him with a long silent pause.

Another blank look at her. His tool? He hadn't showed anyone his tool. What the hell was Stone telling her that for? "What?"

"They...did...not...mean...anything." She said slowly, pausing to taste each word. "And you get pissed when I say no."

"That was my gun!"

"I'm sure it was."

"I dropped it in the pool!"

"Keep digging and reaching, buddy boy. You are drowning." She turned to stare out the window and blink back tears.

"Rock, come on. I swear. There's no one but you. There never has been."

The cab pulled up in front of the hotel. "That'll be fifty bucks."

He looked from her to the cab driver with wide eyes. "Fifty bucks! Are you nuts? That's highway robbery."

"Uh huh." She got out of the cab, heading for the skull and crossbones door handles, intent on beating him to their room to lock his ass out.

He was digging through his pockets, looking for cash and coming up empty. "Wait... Rocky! Have you got fifty bucks? I'll pay you back." He'd lost all his money back at the casino. He slid his way out of the cab, just as the cab driver was making a call to the cops. "Wait, come on. Just gimme a minute to come up with the money." He pulled out a wallet and handed the guy a credit card.

She turned and glared at him then again when he asked her for money, and she went on through the doors heading for the elevators. She pushed through the people and finally got to the button and pushed it...hard, waiting. "Come on, damn slow ass thing," she said, then glowered at a woman that looked down her nose at her. "Problem?" she asked, readying for another fight.

He tried to hurry the guy up with the credit card swiping, but not wanting to get arrested, he had no choice but to wait. Once the swiping was finally done, he slapped a hand against the cab to get him going and hurried after her.

"No one put me up to it, Rock." He moved to his feet, reaching to pull her toward him. "I love you and I wanna marry you. Why is that so hard to believe?" It was true. He'd fallen for her the very first time he'd laid eyes on her. He'd known she was the one. All he had to do now was convince her he was telling the truth.

She fought a bit, but she fell into his arms, looking up at him. "I hate you. If you love me...no more women Christian, I'm serious."

He smiled down at her, his arms sliding around her waist. "I love you."

"You hearing me?" She was smiling, then wrapped her arms around him. "I love you."

He reached up and traced an X against his chest. "I swear." He reached for her hand and slid the rock upon her left ring finger. "I love you, too, Mrs. Driscoll."

She watched as the ring slid onto her finger, then looked up at him when he called her that. "God, I have to take your last name?"

"What's the matter with Driscoll? It beats the hell out of Smith. Is that even your real last name?"

"Rocky Driscoll?" She cringed; she wasn't through busting his balls.

Once the ring was settled on her finger, his arms slid back around her, smiling. "Come on, it's not that bad."

"I think I broke that redhead's jaw," she said sheepishly. "Okay, it's not that bad, but when you meet my dad, John Smith, and make a crack about his name, he will deck you."

She hadn't said yes yet, but she'd finally admitted she loved him. Progress. It was a start. And the ring was on her finger. She couldn't deny that. Maybe he was finally getting somewhere.

He couldn't help but smirk. "Is your mother Pocahontas?" Okay, so historically, John Smith and Pocahontas hadn't gotten married, but Disney seemed to think so.

"Oh... and yes, but remember my words. No more women." Then she shoved him lightly. "No, it's Jo. Short for Josephine."

"John and Jo. No Pocahontas jokes. Got it." He grinned at the shove, making no further comment on the women.

"Promise me, Chris."

"Can we go inside now? I want to make it official." Meaning he wanted to get laid.

She wasn't budging; she was watching him. "No X over the heart thing. I want to hear it."

The smile was replaced with a solemn expression. "There haven't been any other women. Not since I met you."

"Maybe you should have said yes. Didn't your mother ever tell you not to hit guys wearing glasses?" He rinsed out the washcloth, almost disappointed at the lack of blood. He'd hoped to have been able to play the sympathy card just a little bit longer.

"I just did say yes, and my mother is the one that taught me to fight."

"Is she going to hate me?" He folded the washcloth and laid it on the sink before coming back out of the bathroom.

"If I bring home a man that I actually wanted to bring home, and it's not a cop bringing me home, she's going to be thrilled. But, she's going to try to feed you." She was already laid out on the bed, watching him in her half shirt. "You too skinny." Like her Italian mother would say.

"Oh, yeah?" He pulled his shirt up over his chest and yanked it over his head, tossing it over his shoulder onto the floor and flopping down on the bed beside her. "You think I'm too skinny? Rather have someone like Ahnold?" He affected the Governator's accent when he mentioned his name.

"Oh yeah. She makes meatballs like softball size." Then she wrinkled her nose. "I think you are just right, and Arnold is, well, in a word, frightening. You know he's got horse steroids flowing through his blood even all these years later."

He laughed and slid closer, glasses sliding down his nose a little as he leaned over her and brushed a trail of kisses against her neck.

She turned her head a bit, allowing more access to her neck; he knew her weak spots.

"If I'm just right, does that make you Goldilocks?" He slid his hands beneath her shirt, drawing it slowly upwards.

"I swear, Christian. At times, I want to just deck you." She purred a bit. "Not right now, though."

He had one thing on his mind and one thing only, and it was pretty obvious what it was. Unfortunately, he'd forgotten to wash the lipstick stain from his cheek, but she didn't seem to notice. "Mmhm," he muttered, lips trailing downwards while hands trailed upwards.

"I owe you one." She arched with his kisses. "Soon."

(Story continued in "Treasure Island".)