CHAPTERONE
MAYA
"Hot damn, I'm back." My great Sin City Time-Out had ended.
I flicked my wrist, popping on a dose of mascara for night number one of the girls' vacation. Hell, I may not have had the best track record with all things Nevada, but if there was one tidbit I’d learned in life—it was to keep trying until I got it right.
I did a lot of trying, since getting it right was more elusive than I'd ever expected.
Someday, I'd move up from being a backup singer to become an a-list headliner, have my own manager, with a career that finally took off. Someday, however, had yet to happen. No matter how hard I tried.
But I was in Vegas to push it forward.
Make it happenandhave a kickass weekend of fun.
Tonight, I got to attend the engagement party for one of my childhood friends. Bonus, one of his cousins was a big deal in the music industry and, rumor had it, that cousin was slated to be at the party.
That was the main reason I’d broken my exile. Since my last Las Vegas marriage that ended in divorce two years ago, I'd avoided this city.
But I'd done my time away, and now I was ready to roll. A brief ha-cha-cha dance was the only shimmy-hop my gold-sequined tube dress would allow. Oh hells yes, I was ba-a-ack.
I was back, and I looked amazing, so I took that opportunity to prop my cell on a nearby shelf and sing a few bars of Mariah Carey, ensuring I hit a fantastic whistle note.
I checked the reel and then posted to my socials.
I wasn't sure why I kept sending content online when the only ones who interacted were my fellow back-up singers, friends, sisters, and… Mom. Dad would've thrown me a like or two, but he didn't do social media.
"I'm so glad you came home for this." My friend Angela slipped into the room beside me and peered into the mirror. She ran her fingernail along the crease where her lips met in the middle so she could fix the lipstick smudge without having to reapply the whole shebang. The shade of Heartbreak Pink I’d snagged for her at an airport kiosk was the perfect complement to her blond hair and blue eyes.
Angela would say her cheeks were too round, her ass too big, and her skin too pale, but the entire package came together to create an innocent schoolgirl look that was catnip to most members of the male species.
I often reminded her how amazing she was both aesthetically and, more importantly, as a person.
"You know I couldn't miss this," I said.
Angela gave me a look like my martini was missing an olive. Short explanation? The last two times I'd been home, I'd intentionally gotten sloshed and unintentionally gotten married.
What could I say? I used to believe in love at first sight. Turned out that I used to love the idea of love. But I stunk at the actual carry through. I’d realized by this point that love had little to do with long-term relationships. Not for me, anyway.
None of that mattered now, since I was here to make connections.
A connection.
That major connection that would propel me forward and put me on the map.
"Oh, come on." Angela hip bumped me. "You're going to get frown lines. You can't be sad in Vegas. It's not allowed."
"No, I know." I tried not to frown, but the smile felt forced.
"I heard that Jared's fiancée is actually pretty great," Angela said, clearly trying to change the subject.
As happy as I felt for my friend getting engaged and having a party before getting married, I was mildly down that so many of my friends had found their future and lived it, while I remained stuck in the mud, chasing dreams that never came true.
Still a backup singer for those in the spotlight and still very, very single.
Our more responsible friend, Emily—the one with the voice of reason—sauntered into the room.
"Our one rule is… what?" she asked.
