The sound rushes in the moment my driver opens the door for me. It’s an assault on my senses, but it’s not unfamiliar. I’m used to the sound that seems to follow me around wherever I go. But there’s a buzz underneath it here that I’m not used to.
When I step out of the car, a man is standing there with an open smile on his face. We make eye contact and he steps forward. “Miss Wells,” his voice is warm and charming, “my name is Miles. I’m one of the assistants here. If you will come with me, I can get you up to your room and give you some information about the tournament.”
“It’s nice to meet you Miles,” I smile the smile that keeps people at a distance but can never be considered rude, “please call me Quincy.”
“Of course,” his voice is warm. He looks down at the clipboard cradled in his arm. “Kenneth has already ensured your wardrobe during the tournament is waiting for you upstairs. We’ll have makeup and hair people backstage for everyone.”
I almost cringe because I hope Kenneth didn’t give some ridiculous instructions about my wardrobe. Sometimes he pushes against my middle America vibe, and Vegas is the perfect place for him to try it again. I’m already dreading finding out what is waiting for me in the room.
Have a little fun.
Right.
Right.
After talking to Margot and having this poker tournament dropped into my lap, I told myself this was going to be a ‘yes’ trip. I’m going to say yes to as many things as I can, as long as I’m not in danger. It might be the only way for me to get out of the rut I’ve been in for far too long.
Which means I’ll be saying yes to whatever clothes are waiting for me. I’ll be saying yes to whatever comes my way. Hopefully, it doesn’t bite me on my ass later. The last thing I want is to damage my image, because then I’ll only be sucked deeper into the world I think I want to escape.
“Thanks, Miles,” I keep my voice light even if it does feel forced to me.
As we walk inside, I take in the grandeur of the hotel. This isn’t my first trip to Las Vegas, but I’ve never stayed in this hotel before. It’s huge and dripping in luxury designed to make the people visiting feel like they’ve arrived, like they’re something.
If only I wasn’t so jaded by this kind of opulence. I see it; I recognize it. I’m simply not impressed by it anymore.
Which is kind of sad.
It wasn’t long ago when this kind of place, echoing money and class, would have been so impressive that I would be pinching myself to make sure it was real and I was really seeing it. I try not to forget where I came from, even when it would be so easy to only allow myself to be caught up in the opulence of where I am now.
“A few other people have already arrived for the tournament,” Miles fills me in as we step onto the elevator and the doors close behind us.
“That’s great,” the words fall from my lips, but I don’t really mean them. I don’t know who else has committed to this. Honestly, I don’t care. “Hopefully having so many of us here for the weekend won’t cause problems for you and the hotel. Paparazzi can be sneaky and ruthless.”
His face doesn’t change as he nods sagely. “We’ve already prepared for that,” he informs me, as if he’s more than ready to take on whatever challenges having so many celebrities in one place causes.
I’m impressed by his confidence, but I have my doubts about how prepared they are. I keep that to myself since there’s no use in arguing the point.
“The tournament starts tomorrow,” Miles informs me just as the elevator door opens and he starts toward one of the rooms. “There’s a full itinerary printed out for you in your room. I’ve also included my direct phone number. If there’s anything you need, please reach out to me or pick up any hotel phone. Anyone here will help you, but I’m always available.”
Just as he finishes speaking, he pulls a key card out of his pocket, opens the door, and holds it open for me while offering me the card. I take it, grateful when he stays in the hallway. The way he respects my space makes me feel more comfortable instantly.
“I’ll let you get settled. Your bags will be brought up any moment,” he lets me know.
As I step inside the large, overly fancy suite, he’s already stepping back. I turn toward him and give him a small smile. “Thank you, Miles. I’m sure this weekend will be a lot of fun.”
He gives a small nod before glancing back toward the elevator. “Your bags are here. I’ll make sure they make it inside safely and then I’ll leave you to get settled in. If you’re interested in dinner tonight and need a reservation or if you’d like tickets to one of the shows on the strip, let me know. I can get it squared away for you.”
Before I can answer, my two bags are being wheeled just inside the room. Neither man breaches the threshold and the respect it shows hits me in the middle of my chest. So many people I encounter try and take from me—my space, my time, my body, my image. But that’s not happening here.
It’s almost enough to get my shoulders to relax. But I learned a long time ago that I’m always on and always being watched unless I’m alone in a room.
“Thank you,” I tell them both.
With nods and polite smiles, they step back, and Miles allows the door to close. The sound is loud in the quiet of the room, and I take a deep breath as I look around. There’s a welcome basket filled with fruit, cheese, and chocolate.
It only takes me a few moments to get myself unpacked and I’m left standing in the middle of the suite unsure of what to do next. Being in Vegas means I can’t exactly just hole up in my room, even though it’s tempting. I wouldn’t really need to leave until tomorrow when I need to show up for the tournament.
I could easily get anything I could want delivered right to me. I’m sure Miles would love to do my bidding. At least, he’d do it without hesitation or any outward judgement. Frankly, that’s more than enough.
