I force my feet to scuttle forward and stop just inside of the elevator, pressing the button to my left repeatedly with my back still facing the door. Wanting so badly to turn around, but not actually being able to let myself, I continue to face the back of the elevator, head down, willing the doors to shut and get moving. As the door closes, I rub at my bare forearm to calm the unusual reaction across my skin.
What the hell just happened?
Chapter 3
Sitting back in my hotel room on my own, I’m restless. I only have a few of my belongings with me, nothing familiar to distract me, and no routine to adhere to. Having spent time with Lottie, I’m craving familiarity, and being on my own now makes me feel lonely and unsettled. Hell, who am I kidding?
Iamlonely.
Iamunsettled.
The only difference now is that I’m hyper aware of it.
For the first time in as long as I can remember, I know what I want. I know how I want life to be, and sitting here, staring out of the window at the bright lights of Vegas, it frustrates me that I can’t make it happen right now. I want to start my new life. I want to start living days full of fun, independence, and a hopeful future, but I can’t do that if I’m sitting here waiting for it to happen.
I jump up, rummage through the few clothes I did pack and throw on an evening top and skinny jeans. I smooth some extrafoundation over my bruised cheek, then touch it up with a sweep of blush. Grabbing my clutch, I head for the door.
As I walk through the foyer, the bars and clubs have come to life. There’s live music playing and I find myself smiling. I love music; it’s the one thing guaranteed to get a response from me. Tonight, the choice of either staying in a lonely hotel room, dwelling on the last twenty-four hours, or having a few drinks and letting loose is easy. I have no one to please, no one tapping their watch because I’m later that I said I’d be, and if I want to sleep in late tomorrow…well, I can do just that.
There is a choice of bars, each fitting to a different mood, and tonight I’m drawn to the bar calledHeaven and Hell. I’m pretty sure I’ve visited the latter several times, so maybe I can find a little piece of the other for the evening.
The bar is decorated in rich reds, golds, and clean white accents, giving it a fresh, but luxurious feel. It has large, cozy booths with leather seats placed around the perimeter, and the dance floor is down a few steps from the booths with two small stages for dancing.
The music is loud and energetic when I enter. The bass is vibrating across the floor and up through my body. Some of the servers are dressed as devils in ruby-red, skin-tight body suits with sparkly horns and tails, while the others are dressed as angels in white, tight, body suits with glowing halos above their heads.
Heaven and Hell—I like it.
I order a very colorful cocktail and find a tall stool at the bar which also gives me a great view over most of the club. As it starts to get busy, the people crowd in, and the dance floor fills up. I’ve always felt safer surrounded by people, so the noise and the gathering sea of bodies suits me. The podiums have been occupied by angels and devils dancing, so I watch for a while, fascinated at their ability to look so at ease with being on display.
The first drink goes down easily and I remind myself not to let that fool me. I’m not really a big drinker, so I have little tolerance. I gesture to a male devil, and he checks his horns are on straight as he heads my way. He doesn’t wear a tight-fitted suit like the female servers but red fitted trousers and a red sequined shirt that has a deep V to his navel. The horns are a nice touch.
“What can I get ya?” he says with a dazzling showbiz smile.
I take a second to scan through the cocktail list, baffled by the extensive concoctions. “Surprise me.”
I watch, entertained by his performance as he pours and twists, spins and shakes, and I can’t help but smile at his show. He then splits the cocktail shaker and pours my exotic looking drink into a sugar-dipped glass complete with a white and gold umbrella.
“Please put it on room 144—”
“Let me get that for you,” booms a voice from behind me.
I turn to find a middle aged guy, about five foot eight, not unattractive but not sexy either. He wears a multi-colored shirt and the buttons are undone to the middle of his chest, which is sprouting a carpet of dark chest hair. It is not a good look, and his lopsided smile makes me a little uneasy. He pays for my drink without waiting for my answer and the bartender moves off to serve another person.
I feel cornered. Uneasy. Breath tightening in my chest.
“Thank you but you really didn’t have to do that.” I smile politely in the hope that this guy gets the message.
“Come on, can’t a guy buy a beautiful lady a drink?”
“Here, let me pay you back.” My tone is shorter this time as I turn my body away from him to find some money in my purse.
“That’s not necessary. Room 144, was it?”
Oh god, he heard my room number.Panic rises in my chest. Maybe I’m not ready to confront the big wide world after all.
“No, you must have been mistaken. Now if you’ll excuse me…” I place my drink on the bar and stand to leave, but he grasps the top of my arm with enough pressure to make me stay where I am.
“I definitely heard you say 144,” he says, moving in close. “That’s the same floor as me, so what do you say we make some sweet music of our own, eh?” He nods his head toward the door, and I’m paralyzed; unable to transfer the words from my head to my mouth, and the rest of my body refuses to work.
