Love and Payback

By Irene Woodbury

Tricia Wyatt's life starts to unravel after she discovers her husband, Dave, cheated on her. She soon meets Joe Daggett, a handsome, charming married man from Chicago, on Facebook, and the two plunge into a hot Internet affair. When Tricia and Joe decide to meet for a week in Las Vegas, she shows up, he doesn't.

After a few anxious days, Joe sends a friend, Al Posey, who lives in Vegas, to take her to dinner. Tricia, who now feels rejected by both her husband and her lover, ends up in bed with Al. Two days later, her nude, lifeless body is found by a maid at Bellagio.
Love and Payback is a gripping look at how Tricia Wyatt’s shocking, mysterious death shatters, and later transforms, the lives of her family and friends. Her son dies in a grisly accident. Her best friend's marriage crumbles. Her husband becomes obsessed with revenge and tries to destroy the lives of Joe Daggett and Al Posey. Love and Payback checks all the boxes when it comes to drama, trauma, and, ultimately, love.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Irene Woodbury
• Release date: Apr 28, 2021
• ISBN: 9781736967409

Irene Woodbury

     Author Irene Woodbury's vibrant, intense novels capture the heart and soul of one of her favorite cities:  Las Vegas. Whether it's romance, dark humor, drama, or unforgettable characters, these riveting reads check all the boxes.        Irene's five darkly funny novels will make you laugh, and sometimes cry, too. Her latest, Cringeworthy:  A Romance Goes Rogue (2024), is a devastating tale of epic jealousy and unrequited love. Porch Pirate Love (2022), explores the turbulent romance between a brash porch pirate and a sassy single mom-to-be. A Slot Machine Ate My Midlife Crisis (2021), is a bittersweet look at a newlywed's chaotic midlife crisis in Vegas. In Honeymoon Roulette (2021), a bride bolts after learning her handsome fiance may have killed his first two wives. Its quirky companion novella, Annie & Charlotte:  The Dead Wives of Connor J. Barrington, was also published in 2021.      Irene's dramatic novels include the gritty, engrossing Romeo Stalker (2021), which chronicles a Vegas showgirl's agonizing plunge into stalker-hell. And Love and Payback (2021) is a probing look at a married woman's mysterious death in Sin City, where she has gone to meet an Internet love.      Denver-based Irene is a successful travel writer who savors visits to London and Las Vegas. She is currently working on her next novel. Please check her out and follow her on Twitter: @IreneWoodbury.

Book preview

* * * * Chapter 1 * * * *

At one am, the bus pulled out, its huge, gray bulk casting murky shadows across the empty streets of Denver. Thirteen long, grimy hours later, Austin arrived at the depot in downtown Las Vegas.

To get his bearings and stretch his legs, the lanky six-foot teen took a quick stroll around Fremont Street. What an eye-opener! Under the warm, watchful gaze of Vegas Vic, the ersatz neon cowboy perched four stories above 1st Street, Austin’s jaw dropped in amazement at all the lewd and bizarre sights. There were strip clubs with garish, flashing signs touting totally nude girls, shapely pole dancers in skimpy bikinis writhing sensuously on bar tops, big-bellied cowboys barging in and out of casinos, and even a few Mickey Mouse and Elvis-types popping out in the crowd.

Austin was mesmerized: he definitely wasn’t in Denver anymore!

Munching a red candy apple that served as breakfast, he edged further down Fremont. Sprawling at 6th Street was the glitzy Spanish-ranch casino, El Cortez. Its old-time Vegas charm captivated him. One look, and images of tuxedoed Rat Packers swinging from crystal chandeliers were dancing in his head.

Austin couldn’t resist a peek, and wandered inside for a quick spin around the vintage lobby. It was cool, dark, and classic, with soft lights gleaming on polished wood paneling and lush, brightly colored carpets. The tall, gawky man-child yearned to sample the beckoning pleasures of the adjacent casino, a gaudy mélange of blinking lights and clanging slots. But he felt the lure of the iconic Strip even more, so he headed to an exit and asked a bellman to get him a cab.

The 15-minute ride along sundrenched Las Vegas Boulevard was replete with more colorful revelations. Both sides were lined with cheesy-looking motels and wedding chapels, raunchy strip clubs, and taco joints. Rickety frame houses with chipped paint, bars on the windows, and bail bond signs flickering dimly in their dried-out front yards also caught Austin’s eye.

Closer to the Strip, things started changing big time. On the west side of the boulevard, Austin gazed up at the towering Stratosphere, topped with a gourmet restaurant and death-defying thrill rides. A few blocks further, the gaudy neon clown at Circus Circus, looking all the worse for wear, lurched into view.

After stopping at a traffic-light in front of the sleek, bronze-hued Wynn, curving softly and seductively like a massive slug of shaved milk chocolate, the cab crawled into the belly of the Strip. Looming on both sides of the palm-lined boulevard were the legendary mega-resorts, Mirage, Caesar’s Palace, Venetian, and Treasure Island, each bulky high-rise ablaze in neon schmaltz and enticing come-ons.

At the ornate entrance to Bellagio, Austin paid the driver, gave him a hefty tip, and leapt out of the cab with his bag. Into the palatial lobby, with its colorful Murano, glass-flowered ceiling, he sprinted, straight to the registration desk. The boy’s heart was set on staying in Room 1772, where his mom had died one year before in May 2012. But his dream was dashed by a glowering desk clerk who wouldn’t check him in since he was only 17.

Undeterred, Austin trekked back out to the Strip and made his way across to Planet Hollywood, where he came upon a gaggle of scruffy young dudes. They were offering up baseball-card-like come-ons advertising sexy young females who could be delivered to your door in 20 minutes or less, like a Domino’s pizza. Without a thought, Austin ordered up a hooker who he figured could help him get a room at Bellagio. Yes, 17-year-old Austin Wyatt actually handed one of these hucksters $200, right there on Las Vegas Boulevard in broad daylight, and asked him to dispatch a girl who was over 21.

How this former boy scout from Denver came up with all this is anyone’s guess. But based on what he told friends later, he was desperate, at the end of his rope, needing to see where his mom had died, and craving some answers.

The 22-year-old female promptly dispatched to him in a pink van was a buxom stunner from Kearney, Nebraska named Lola Ray. She was a sweet young thing with cornflower-blue eyes, flowing blond hair, and long, tanned legs. They met in the shadow of the 540-foot Eiffel Tower at Paris, and hit it off right away. She told him he reminded her of her younger brother.

Austin bought Lola a burger at Mon Ami Gabi in Paris, and told her he was 18 years old, from Salt Lake City, and on a birthday-gift trip from his parents. The shapely Lola, who was poured into clingy, purple hot pants, a pink tee shirt, and pink knee-high vinyl boots, opened up about farm life in Kearney, how boring it had been and how messed up her parents were. She then rambled on about her glam new life in Sin City, where there was 24/7 action and excitement.

She had come to Vegas when she was just 19 years old with her then-boyfriend, a professional poker player. But six months later, before flying off to Dubai for a tournament, he dumped her and threw her out of their suite at Rio with just the clothes on her back.

She moved in with a girlfriend and soon found work waitressing in a coffee shop at Mirage. But paying the rent every month was a struggle, so when a customer suggested a job as a party girl at Hot Strip Babes, she went for it. The 20-minutes-or-less delivery promise kept her hopping, the hours were flexible, and the pay was great.

After lunch, Austin and Lola trekked back across the Strip to Bellagio, where they checked into Room 1772 with Lola’s credit card. Handing her a fistful of $100s, Austin promised he would pay her back the full amount later.

The room was large, but nothing special: bland and beige with too much furniture, a large, flat-screen TV, and a nice-enough view. When Austin gazed at the king-size bed his mom had died in, a pungent wave of sadness swept over him. He was suddenly overcome by an image of her with that animal, Al Posey, and the two of them were naked and all over each other, having loud, rough sex. Austin’s stomach knotted up. His heart felt like lead. He didn’t tell Lola what was happening, or why, but she noticed he was pale and dazed.

What’s wrong, lover-dude? she purred, wrapping her long, tanned arms around him and pulling him close. Don’t you like the room?

The room’s cool, I’m cool, he murmured, as he felt the fullness of her firm breasts pressing against his boyish chest. He was glad Lola was with him, but he wasn’t about to tell her his real age or the truth about why he was in Vegas. And then he softened a bit and let himself go as he inhaled her spicy perfume and the sweet, cotton-candy scent of her hair. She felt so warm and willing, her lush curves kneading perfectly into the hard contours of his chiseled young body.

Lola was still holding Austin, and then her soft, pink lips were kissing his. It was warm, sweet, and full. Not like an empty, token kiss between a Vegas hooker and a gawky young virgin-boy from Denver. More like a passionate intermingling of lips, tongues, and mouths between a lost boy and girl discovering each other for the first time in a cornfield in Kearney. Both of them were breathless with excitement, but Austin was still trying to recover from the harrowing images of his mom with Al, so he wasn’t especially interested at the moment. Instead, the two awkwardly disengaged and left the room.

Downstairs in the casino, they immersed themselves in slots. But it wasn’t their day. After blowing through a wad of 20s with barely a ripple, they strolled out of Bellagio and turned their attention towards the frenetic Strip.

Like any other young couple, they meandered hand in hand down the garish, traffic-choked boulevard, past bustling casinos, burger bars, and an endless parade of panhandlers, showgirls, grifters, and cartoon characters. While walking, they stopped to gawk at buskers; browsed in gift shops overflowing with cheesy trinkets, and treated themselves to a white-knuckle spin on the towering Manhattan Express roller coaster at New York New York.

That night they hiked to the south end of the Strip for a jousting show with real horses and swords at Excalibur. Then they popped into Dick’s Last Resort for $13 Big Ass Burgers, washed down with mojitos. Both of them savored the ambience of this loud, tacky saloon just off the casino, where the waiters get in your face and the customers wear white, condom-shaped paper hats with lewd comments scrawled on them.

They were both fairly sloshed by the time they stumbled back to Bellagio, where they snuggled in bed and watched a movie. One thing led to another and they ended up having sex on the same bed where Austin’s mother had committed adultery with Al the night before she died. It was morbid and almost gross, but also sort of poignant and sad: Austin trying to reconnect with his mom, trying to bond with her in some primal, intimate way.

He was drunk and it was his first time, but the more experienced Lola made it work for both of them. She apparently really liked the tall, lanky, brown-haired dude and was turned on by his sweetness, good looks, and buff young body.

All in all, the sex with Lola was the most shocking part of Austin’s trip. Never in a million years would anyone, from his very-much-alive father, Dave, back in Denver, to his now-deceased mom, Tricia, have guessed that his first time would be with a hooker in Vegas. It’s almost a bad joke when put that way, like a footnote in a raunchy Hangover movie, but Austin’s first sexual experience was truly on the bizarre side.

* * * * Chapter 2 * * * *

The next morning, while Hot Strip Babe got her beauty sleep, Austin took a shower, got dressed, and prowled the halls searching for a maid. When he found a Polish housekeeper who spoke little English, he peppered her with questions. Was she the one who had discovered the dead woman in Room 1772 a year ago, he wanted to know.

Nie rozumiem, nie rozumiem, she pleaded, flustered and confused, tossing her hands up.

Confiding to another maid that the dead woman found in Room 1772 the year before had been his mom, he started firing questions. What did she look like when you found her? Was she still warm? Was she breathing? he wanted to know, staring into her eyes with an intensity that was both sad and alarming.

The questions came fast and furious, and the maid was taken aback. She quickly explained that when the body was found she had been at lunch and therefore missed the commotion. Then she shuffled off with her cart. But later, when she spotted the freshly showered Lola, in her purple hot pants and pink vinyl boots, prancing out of Room 1772, she grew suspicious and called her supervisor.

Austin and Lola had no idea their presence was creating curiosity and concern among the Bellagio staff. They were too busy enjoying a second day of fun on the Strip. Breakfast at Denny’s was followed by another workout on the one-armed bandits. Austin quickly won a $200 jackpot on Wizard Of Oz. That called for a celebration, so he promptly treated Lola to a pink-lace teddy at Victoria’s Secret in Caesar’s. Afterwards, they roamed through three floors of glitzy boutiques in the Forum Shops and browsed for high-end jewelry at Bijoux Babe.

That afternoon they came upon a liquor store in a grungy strip mall across from Circus Circus, where Lola bought bourbon and vodka. Later, while she browsed in the Grand Canal Shoppes at the Venetian, Austin settled at a table in the food court and sipped Smirnoff’s from a bottle concealed in a brown paper bag.

Amply fortified, he then tackled his next mission. After finding a pay phone in a hallway off the food court, he rang up Al Posey, whose name and number he’d filched from a legal pad in his father’s office. The phone rang at least 10 times. Finally, someone picked up.

Is this Al Posey? Austin asked.

Who wants to know? the crass gaming instructor shot back.

Um, my name’s Austin Wyatt, the boy spoke up. I’m Tricia Wyatt’s son. You met her at the Bellagio last year. Do you remember?

Uh, yeah, sure, I remember Tricia. She was a beautiful lady. How old are you, kid? Where are you calling from?

Um, 17, right here in Vegas, Austin answered. I came from Denver to get some answers on my mom’s death. Can we meet somewhere to talk?

Sorry for your loss, kid, Al replied, No, I can’t meet you. It’s not a good idea. Where’s your father?

Back in Denver.

Does he know you’re here?

No.

Go home, kid. You shouldn’t be here. Why are you calling me?

Because you were the last person to see my mom alive.

There was a moment of silence.

No one knows that for sure, Al said.

Well, you took her out the night before she was found by the maid, right? Austin asked.

Yeah, it was a favor for a friend.

What friend? Austin asked.

"My buddy, Joe, in Chicago. He met your mom on Facebook and they became, uh, friends. He was supposed to spend a week with her at the Bellagio. But he couldn’t make it because of work commitments. She was pretty upset and he was worried about her, so he called me and asked me to step in for him.

I called her, and we ended up having dinner a couple times. She was a nice lady, but a little mixed-up.

Did you sleep with her the night before she died? Austin asked, cutting to the chase.

Look, kid, you don’t call a total stranger out of the blue and ask personal questions like that. It’s none of your business.

She was my mother, Austin said defiantly. It is my business. Did you have sex with my mom the night before she died? Did you know she was dead when you left her room the next morning? Are you married?

Whoa, that’s way too many questions. What are you, some kind of detective, or cop-in-training? Your mom was a sweet lady who was having a lot of problems. Joe couldn’t fly in to meet her, and that upset the hell out of her. And she told me your dad cheated on her. She was a lost, lonely lady.

And you took advantage of it, didn’t you? Austin fired back, outraged. "She was down and you had sex with her and then walked out the next morning when she was sick.

You could have called 911 or hotel security, but you walked out because you’re married. You didn’t call for help because you didn’t want your wife to find out you spent the night with my mom. You let her die, didn’t you?

Look, kid, you’re way out of line calling me like this and asking all these crazy questions, Al said, annoyed and flustered. "I tried to be nice, but you’re the one taking advantage here. The cops said she had some kind of heart problem. She died of natural causes. I don’t know exactly when. I don’t know if it was before or after I left her room. As far as I knew, she was asleep. How could I call for help when I didn’t know there was a problem?

You need to get on the first plane back to Denver. Forget we ever talked. Just move on with your life, kid, and don’t ever call me again.

The line went dead.

Austin frantically tried to call Al back, but nobody picked up.

Fuck! he fumed, slamming the pay phone back on the hook. He was stung by the brute insensitivity, but there was nothing he could do. Flashes of anger tore through him. Standing there for a few minutes, he tried to absorb the full impact of having just spoken to the man who slept with his mother the night before she died. Warm remembrances of his mom flashed through his head, as did lurid images of her with the scoundrel who had walked out on her, alive but dying, or possibly already dead, hours after having sex with her.

The events were too improbable and confused for him to reconcile or make sense of. Deeply conflicted, with his thoughts in a muddle, he stood there dazed, gripping the iron stanchion of the phone stand for support. Finally, with his emotions more in check, he felt steady enough to return to the table to wait for Lola.

The tall, bosomy hooker with a heart of gold soon glided back into the food court. Strapped on her slender, well-manicured feet were freshly purchased red-leather sling-backs with four-inch heels. Dangling in both her hands were chic totes holding racy outfits, and more pairs of sexy shoes.

With a breathy giggle, she plopped down at the table and announced, I’m starved! Taking the hint, Austin got both of them hot dogs, crinkly fries, and Cokes at Nathan’s. Lunch was followed by more shopping, as Austin bought his babe a sexy blue sundress in a pricey boutique. The bulging wad of greenbacks he’d gotten from pawning a small sack of his mom’s jewelry had taken a hit, but he was still sufficiently flush to fork over cash for nearly everything.

Later that afternoon, back at Bellagio, they were snuggling in bed watching a movie when Security, which had been alerted by the maid earlier, knocked on the door. In short order, they checked Austin’s ID, quickly figured out Lola’s occupation, and carted them both to a police station off the south end of the Strip.

There was no statutory rape charge against Lola since the age of consent in Nevada is 16, but the cops wanted to charge Austin with solicitation of prostitution. When they called Dave in Denver with the news, he was stunned.

"Your son had about $5,000 in cash when we picked