The House Always Wins - 19. Chapter 19

CHAPTER 19

The next day, Saturday, I woke up late and took it slow that morning. I treated myself to a long, hot shower and then a drawn out breakfast. Both Olivia and Michael were nowhere to be seen, but I knew Olivia would spend most of her day downstairs, at the Hotel spa.

It was around noon when I had installed myself on the sofa in the living room, writing a bit in my diary, trying to figure out the last few days. I chewed on my pen and was about to continue writing, when Michael stepped out of the study, coming over. I hadn't even known he was in there!

"Do you and Mother have anything special planned for today?" he asked, leaning on the back of the sofa.
I closed the diary and shook my head.

"Nope, she's going to get a facial and stuff, downstairs; she'll be down there most of the day."

"How about tonight?"
I shrugged and frowned.

"Nothing planned. Why?"

"What would you say to a tour of Hoover Dam, a bit of the Grand Canyon, and a pass over Monument Valley?"

"Now?" I asked expectantly, sitting up maybe a bit too eagerly. I knew Saturday was his only day off, and up to now I had thought he'd changed his mind and gone to work. But if he was offering...
He started to laugh at my apparent enthusiasm and nodded.

"Dude! Cool!"

"The helicopter is standing by. We'll leave in fifteen minutes."
Helicopter? Way cool!

"You're not kidding, right?" I asked, just to be sure.
Michael smiled, his eyes glittering with amusement.

"No. Go get your jacket. I'll tell Mother that we'll be gone for the rest of the day."
He didn't have to tell me twice; I got up from the sofa, grabbing my diary, and ran to the bedroom.

I changed into a clean pair of jeans and a flannel shirt, and eyed my backpack. Hmm... maybe some warm clothes; I didn't know how cold it would get in the air. I'd never been in a helicopter before, so I better be prepared.

I stuffed the diary away under the pile of shirts, and took the top section of the backpack; it could be taken apart into two bags. I grabbed a sweater and stuffed it in the bag, together with a clean warm shirt. Then, when I was done, I went over to Michael's section and grabbed a sweater from there, stuffing it in the bag as well; it might come in handy.

Michael was ready to go by the time I came back into the living room, dressed in a black leather jacket, equally black jeans and a black shirt; he really lived up to his name.

"Ready?"

"Wait..." I walked around the bar and grabbed two bottles of water from the ‘frig, stuffing those in my bag as well. "Now I'm ready."
We stepped into the elevator, and I frowned, when instead of pressing the down button, Michael pressed a section above the panel, popping open a hidden control. He turned it with a small key and we went up.

"Roof," he explained, when I looked at him questioningly.

**********

I hadn't known that the hotel had a helipad on the roof. As Michael explained it, some guests preferred to arrive in style, and out of view from prying eyes and cameras. Some even came in their own helicopters.

The one waiting for us was owned by the hotel. It looked like a new Bell Jet Ranger, entirely black, save for the name of the hotel/casino, written in gold lettering.

I was a little nervous climbing on board, but it only lasted for a few minutes, as we settled in and got our headsets adjusted. Once we were airborne, I enjoyed the funny feeling in my stomach as the 'copter rapidly took us to the Hoover Dam. Once there, I wanted to pull out every hair on my head because I didn't have a camera; I would've loved to make a few spectacular pics from up here.

We dropped all the way down to the bottom, coming around the bend and at the Dam at full speed, soaring up to the rim in such a fashion that I felt dizzy with excitement; this rocked! Michael's voice came through my headset, asking if I'd seen enough.

"Yeah. No. I wish I'd brought a camera."
I gave him an exaggerated pout and he laughed, fishing a digital camera out of a pocket inside his jacket. YES!

"I wasn't sure if you wanted to, so..." he held it out to me. "It's yours."
I thanked him from the bottom of my heart, and asked if the pilot would maybe be so kind as to repeat the approach. The young man just grinned and nodded. It was awesome and I felt giddy as a schoolgirl, wanting to open the door and hang out for the best sight. Wow, wow, wow!

After I had gotten pictures, we flew over Lake Mead, the country's largest man-made lake, where I shot a few more pictures, and then on to Grand Canyon National Park.

There are no words to describe the sight; you feel very tiny as you fly through that majestic gorge. We saw the Valley of Fire, the Grand Wash Cliffs, extinct volcanoes, and several abandoned mining towns, not to mention the Colorado River; it's almost too much to take in. Say what you will about us, but we've got some serious beauty in this country.

We'd been in the air for about two hours now, and I was getting hungry. I didn't want to appear ungrateful, but I asked Michael if there was the chance of food in the near future. He smiled and touched the pilot's shoulder, nodding once. We flew on for a few more minutes, and then we descended, in the middle of nowhere, landing on the bank of the Colorado River.

Michael opened the door and stepped out, motioning me to do the same. He spoke to the pilot, pointing at his watch and holding up one finger; the young man nodded. The pilot retrieved a parcel from the co-pilot's seat, handed it to Michael, and we walked back out of the blast as the helicopter started to rise again.

"Where's he going?" I asked, A little concerned as I watched it rapidly disappear.

"Grand Canyon Airport, to refuel for the trip to Monument Valley; in the meantime, we'll stay here and eat lunch. He'll be back in an hour."
He carried the parcel - a picnic basket, as it turned out - and looked for a suitable place to eat while I walked to the edge of the river, looking out into the canyon. The view was magnificent, and I shot a few more pictures until he called me over.

The basket contained a blanket, sandwiches, fruit and wine, which he had unpacked onto the ground, and we sat down. I was famished and attacked the sandwiches, declining the glass of wine.

"Come on," Michael said, insisting, "live a little."
I accepted the glass and took a sip; it wasn't half bad. We ate and talked for a while, about the scenery, pointing at several things we saw, and taking in the general view, which was awesome. On both sides, the rims of the Canyon rose high in the air.

"Thanks, Michael," I said, meaning it. "This is the best day of my life."

"That's your way of thanking someone?" he asked sourly, raising an eyebrow. "I give you the best day of your life, and all you can come up with is ‘thanks, Michael'?" He smiled right after, though.

"What else am I supposed to say?" I asked, frowning, not sure if he was serious.
He thought for a while and set down his glass beside him.

"You could show it."

"How?"

"Like this."
He took the glass from my hand, and set it beside his own. Then he leaned over, and caught my lips with his.