Back to Vegas
((Continued from here.))
The plane journey back to Vegas was, for the most part, spent in silence. Ginger stared blankly out of the window, watching the patterns in the clouds. Her thoughts weren't particularly coherent, flitting from self pity to how tiny the trees looked below.
The only words she spoke to Nicky were "Don't tell me what to do, you fuck!" when he tried to stop her having another drink. So for forty minutes of flight time in the private jet, Ginger was lost in her own private pity party.
Nicky was just Nicky, ignoring her in favour of his card game with Frank Marino and discussing business. He didn't give a shit about her, she was an inconvenience at best. And Sam? What was she to Sam? Probably the same. She was being taken back to save his public face.
She hadn't coped well without him. Maybe if she wasn't scared he'd have Lester whacked she'd have run to him, but that wasn't an option anymore. Seeing him beat up in the parking lot at that diner was hard enough to think about, without knowing she'd cost him his life. Hell, for all she knew he was already dead. She'd tried to phone him dozens of time while she was away, and each time the phone had just rung and rung. Twice she'd spent an hour listening to that ringing tone, drinking herself steadily into oblivion as the time passed.
The plane journey back to Vegas was, for the most part, spent in silence. Ginger stared blankly out of the window, watching the patterns in the clouds. Her thoughts weren't particularly coherent, flitting from self pity to how tiny the trees looked below.
The only words she spoke to Nicky were "Don't tell me what to do, you fuck!" when he tried to stop her having another drink. So for forty minutes of flight time in the private jet, Ginger was lost in her own private pity party.
Nicky was just Nicky, ignoring her in favour of his card game with Frank Marino and discussing business. He didn't give a shit about her, she was an inconvenience at best. And Sam? What was she to Sam? Probably the same. She was being taken back to save his public face.
She hadn't coped well without him. Maybe if she wasn't scared he'd have Lester whacked she'd have run to him, but that wasn't an option anymore. Seeing him beat up in the parking lot at that diner was hard enough to think about, without knowing she'd cost him his life. Hell, for all she knew he was already dead. She'd tried to phone him dozens of time while she was away, and each time the phone had just rung and rung. Twice she'd spent an hour listening to that ringing tone, drinking herself steadily into oblivion as the time passed.