Her door swings open, and—
Oh. The reason for the delay.
She’s transformed from Tempting Librarian Caterpillar to Glitzy Vegas Butterfly. Her platinum hair is a riot of soft curls. Crystals sparkle at her ears and neck. A long-sleeved, silver-sequined minidress cinches at her waist, the tie hanging down her thigh.
“Damn, girl,” I say. “You polish up nice.”
She frowns. “Must you make a habit of leaning on walls like that?”
I dart a pointed glance down the empty hallway. “Where else am I supposed to lean? You took for-fucking-ever.”
“Never mind.” She lifts one foot. “I’m going to regret these heels.”
A long expanse of visible leg is wrapped to her knee in silver crisscrosses. The effect is... distracting.
“So change,” I say.
Deep offense creases her brow. “I can’t! I look hot.”
“I know.” I look her up and down one more time. “People will wonder what you’re doing with me.”
“Obviously, they’ll assume you hired me.” She starts down the hall and throws a little wink back at me.
Felt a little flirty. Must be mistaken. Hunger has stolen my common sense.
The evening progresses, and with a belly full of some expensive buffet at the Wynn she just had to try, sound judgment returns. Though that quickly disintegrates when we start drinking.
Intoxicated Joss is unstoppable. She flitters from one slot machine to another, pouring in money and yelling when it gives none back. She stops at a tiny shop along the strip to buy neon-blue boozy slushies that give us both brain freeze. She tries to call the number on the naked lady fliers doled out by every street corner sleazebag.
Can’t stop laughing.
Time speeds and lulls. Lights smear. Everything blurs together.
Everything but her.
The luster of her dress. The silvery-white of her hair. The mysterious smile on her lips. She’s like a comet among theflashing lights and glittering casinos, leaving a sparkling silver trail everywhere she goes.
I follow blindly. The world around us is filled with people. Dopamine-inducing bells. Distracting electric displays. But she’s the most distracting of them all.
Have I ever seen her this happy? Happy Joss is magnificent.
“You’re different here,” I say in a quieter area of the Cosmopolitan.
She throws her arms in the air, smiling wide. “I’m free.”
“Free of what?”
Her smile dims to something secretive. Mysterious. “Free of everything.” She clamps both hands on my shoulders, face going drunk-serious. “Becauseyou... you’re the... you know... like in that movie where the pirates are in prison, and the dog has the key. You’re the dog with the key.”
Hmm. Should I take offense? “I’m... a dog?”
“With a key!” Sounds very important, the way she says it. Must be a crucial detail.
A piece of her hair has stuck to her glossy lips, so I flick it away. “Who locked you up in the first place?”
“The angel of death,” she says in a deep, dramatic voice, cracking herself up. She sashays away in a crooked line. I can do nothing but follow. Looks like no more alcohol for me. One of us has to be sober enough to find our hotel at the end of all this.
She runs out of steam earlier than I’d guessed, and we wind up at Eataly, sitting at a bistro table amidst meandering guests and other diners. She demands more wine. I demand she eat something before the alcohol shrivels her up from the inside.
