Nora was leaving soon. Off to Yale. Off to begin the rest of her life. And Leanne… She wasn’t sure what came next. Her marriage? A question mark. Her mother? A mystery. The only thing she did know was that she was afraid of the empty spaces ahead.
So maybe it was time to do something wild. Or at least uncharacteristic.
Maybe it was time to embrace the now—just once.
She turned on her blinker and eased the Lincoln off the highway, merging onto the glittering stretch that was Las Vegas Boulevard.
“Dead serious,” Leanne said, her voice firmer than expected. “We have five days until the next festival, and it will only take a couple days to get there. We know my mom is with the band and not lost alone somewhere. Why not?” She smiled again as her daughter’s eyes widened.
They cruised down the Strip, neon blooming around them, lighting up the dusk in electric pinks, golds, and icy blues. Signs pulsed like heartbeats: The Sands. The Dunes. Stardust. Caesars Palace.
The street was a mix of contrasts—men in slick suits and women in cocktail dresses brushing shoulders with barefoot hippie girls in fringe vests and bell-bottoms. A saxophone player on one corner crooned something jazzy. The lights from the nickel slot machines spilled from open doors. Someone, somewhere, laughed too loudly. Somewhereelse, someone cried.
This was the city of in-betweens.
“Frank, Dean, Sammy…they made it all look so glamorous,” Leanne murmured, half to herself.
“There’s a rumor Elvis is going to start performing here in July,” Nora said, craning her neck to catch the glittering sign of the International Hotel slated to open in a week. “Too bad we’re not coming back.”
Leanne smiled faintly.Too bad.
Nora traced her finger over the gold lettering ofThe Godfatheron the seat between them. “The Mafia’s huge in Vegas, right?” Her voice was half serious, half amazed. “Do you think we’ll see someone like Don Corleone?”
The city flickered outside their windows like it was alive—buzzing and hungry and full of secrets. And for the first time in a long time, Leanne wasn’t just driving through it. She was in it.
“Well, I hope no one offers us a deal we can’t refuse,” Leanne said, putting on her best mobster growl, her fingers tented like a tiny don.
Nora burst out laughing. “If they do, you’re handling the negotiations.”
They cruised the Strip a few more times, taking in the wonder of the city, letting the neon blur past them like the frames of a dream. Showgirls in feather boas strutted down the sidewalk in a formation that was both tight and fluid at the same time, disappearing through the spinning doors of a casino. A man in a white tux leaned against a red Cabriolet out of the 1940s, smoking and watching the world go by with the confidence of someone who owned it. Sonny Corleone before the job had gotten to him? Leanne couldn’t remember the last time she’d simply looked at life happening around her.
They chose the Sands for the night, drawn in by a glowing sign out front that read “Join us tonight in the Copa Room for a LegendaryShow.”
Inside the hotel, the casino floor buzzed like an elegant hive. Red velvet carpet softened their steps; shimmering chandeliers cast golden light over a crowd of men in tuxedos and women in sleek dresses, sequins glimmering like stars. Cigarette smoke curled through the air, mingling with an artificial floral scent, sweet and acrid.
They stood at the center of it all—mother and daughter, soaking it in.
“Is he famous?” Nora whispered, nodding toward a man in a silk ascot holding court at a blackjack table.
“He looks like someone who once dated someone famous,” Leanne murmured back.
“Half the men in here look like mobsters.”
“They might be.”
They approached the man at the front desk in his tailored navy suit. He had a smile lacquered onto his face and a gold name tag gleaming on his lapel.
“Is there a pool?” Leanne asked, her voice breezy but hopeful, as the man slid a room key across the polished desk.
“Indeed, madam. A tropically styled pool deck just out back—with cabanas, cocktail waitresses, and palm trees,” he said with a little flourish as if describing a personal oasis.
“Palm trees?” Nora echoed.
The man stared at her as if she’d asked if the rooms came with ceilings. “Of course. Imported from Palm Springs.”
Leanne felt wonderfully, oddly giddy. Like she might just go for a swim tomorrow. Or order a cocktail before five o’clock.
Then, she sobered. “Where can I find a telephone?” It’d been nearly a week since she’d spoken to her husband, and if she didn’t get through to Dean… Well, she wasn’t sure what would happen. She’d had no success, but he certainly hadn’t made any Herculean attemptsto find her.
