I spot a small table near the back of the room and drop into one of the upholstered chairs. The singer’s voice is low, but her tone is smooth. She closes her eyes every time she hits a high note and smiles down at the guitarist sitting on a stool next to her. Their energy is electrifying, and I get goosebumps when he strums a high chord.
A server approaches. “Can I get you something, Miss?”
“Uh, I’ll have peppermint tea, please.”
She leaves and returns a few minutes later with a steaming mug. “Thank you.”
I wrap my fingers around the cup, letting the warmth seep through my hands and into my chest. Closing my eyes, I feel the heat rush through the rest of my body.
The duo performs four more songs before someone taps me on the shoulder. “Sage?”
Turning, Frankie’s big brown eyes are blinking down at me. She appears to be out of breath. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. I just couldn’t find you and then ran when I finally spotted you. I need a favor.”
“What is it?”
“Can you stay down here for a while? I… um… I want to take Dave back to our room.” Her cheeks redden, but she smiles. Through the corner of my eye, I spot the musicians packing their things. “Uh, how long?”
I hate to put a time limit on her fun, but I’m not sure what I’m going to do with myself.
“Not long. I promise.”
“I don’t mean to rush you. Why not go back to his hotel?”
“He’s staying at a friend’s place and isn’t sure how the parents will feel about me.”
“Are the parents there?”
She shrugs and I get the impression she either didn’t ask or doesn’t want to tell me.
“Fine. I’ll figure it out.”
“Thanks. I owe you one.”
“You definitely do.”
She squeezes my hand and runs off. I sigh and wait for the next performance.
The next group is a rock band, and while I don’t hate it, the music doesn’t make me feel any special way. So, after about twenty minutes, I leave.
Surprisingly, I look for Daniel. I sort of like that he gave me space and I’m curious to see what he’s gotten himself into. But I don’t see him inside the casino. I check the bar, but he isn’t there, either.
Walking through the hotel lobby, I spot his white sneakers. He’s standing outside, talking on his phone. Suddenly drawn to talk to him, I walk through the lobby doors. He’s speaking, and I catch the words, “…home soon, Mom.”
He catches my eye and immediately turns his back. A tingling sensation in my fingers and toes tells me something is wrong. I walk up to him, but he’s hung up the phone. “Who was that?”
He looks around. “Huh?”
“Who were you talking to?” I stare at him, but he’s looking past me at the traffic on The Strip. His eyes bounce from car to car.
I normally don’t interfere with other people’s lives, but my gut is simmering. “Daniel, were you talking to your mother?”
He swallows. “No.”
“You’re lying.”
He bites the inside of his cheek but says nothing.
