Simon gestured to the bar, and they walked over while he helped her get a leash on Jinx. The barman, seeing the dogapproach, opened his mouth, but Simon discreetly slid over a tenner while the woman fussed over the puppy.
“A daiquiri for me,” Simon said. “And for the lady …?”
“Uh … dark ‘n’ stormy?” She sat on the barstool next to him while Jinx circled around a few times, then plopped down at her feet.
“You’ll have to be careful getting up,” Simon said.
“Because of the drinks or the dog?”
He laughed. “I don’t plan on getting youthatdrunk.”
“Very gentleman-like of you, uh …”
Right.If he didn’t have to be Simon for the night, who would he be? A traveler? An explorer headed for the exciting unknown, like the great mythological heroes? “Jason,” he said after a good few seconds had passed.
“Jason.” Her tone indicated she wasn’t convinced—but that she didn’t mind the game, either. “And what do you do,Jason, to have found yourself in Las Vegas on a fine evening like this?”
“I’m a traveler.”
“One would assume.”
“No, I mean …” He leaned in. “I travel the world. Go to distant places—the busy ones, the forgotten ones—”
“A globetrotter.”
“Exactly. And you?”
“I’m … Anneliese. And I’m completely normal.” She proudly lifted her chin.
Simon tilted his head, approving her deception.
The drinks arrived. “Pleased to meet you, Anneliese,” he said, and they clinked glasses.
“So, what latest adventure do you come from?”
Oh, what would be fun? A jungle with ancient pyramids, a tropical island, a bustling megalopolis? Then he stared into her eyes—a north sea after a storm—and …
“Iceland,” he blurted.
She lifted her eyebrows. “Interesting. Not what I expected you’d pick. But I hear it’s beautiful.”
Maybe one day, he could confirm it. Although it was unlikely he’d visit it for business—it was too small and irrelevant for Aries to open a subsidiary there. As for pleasure, one could always dream.
But he went on, anyway, spouting flowery words about black beaches and magnificent desolate landscapes and peppered in a story he’d once seen in a documentary, of how a local made him eat ground-aged pickled shark that may or may not have been poisonous. Before Simon knew it, the hour was much later, and there were three empty glasses both by his and Anneliese’s side. His head held a constant pleasant buzz, the perfect balance between being inebriated enough to not care about his life worries anymore, but not flat-out drunk.
“Oh, shoot.” Anneliese straightened up. “Jinx needs a walk. Like, you know,a walk.”
“Right,” he said. “He’s a boy, yes? So, the men’s restrooms?”
Anneliese burst into a melodic laugh, dragging him with her. The barman stopped for a second, opened his mouth, paused, then shook his head and continued to the next patron.
“There’s a side exit over there,” Simon said. “Let me help untangle you.”
“Like you untangled yourself from those vines in the jungles of Cambodia.”
“Exactly.” Ah, what a wonderful, imaginary version of Simon that was.
They headed across the casino, the space as lively as it had been hours ago. The light mist from the Golden Luck Fountain, spewing soft waves of glitter-enhanced water, cooled Simon as they walked by it.
