“Oh shit!” Brody bounced forward as he followed her again.
I stayed close behind, suddenly thankful that I’d remained sober.
She walked directly into the sports bar, where crowds of viewers teetered on the edge of their seats, most of them likely to have big money riding on their chosen sporting event. Vera stopped short behind a huge, hulking beefcake with a shiny bald head. He wore a fitted white button-up and black slacks that clung to his muscular thighs. A gold chain sat snug around his veiny neck. The man was a walking warning label for steroid abuse.
“I don’t like where this is going,” I said, but Brody wasn’t listening.
In an act of unhinged bravery, Vera tapped on the man’s shoulder.
He turned around, obviously annoyed that someone had the nerve to touch him.
It took a second for him to look down, and it was obvious that he did not expect to find Vera Stein there in her jeans, vintage Pepperdine T-shirt, red cardigan, and Converse.
“What’s her name?” Vera yelled. “What’s her name, Bobby?”
“Who the hell is Bobby?” the man asked, his friends all leaning in for the show.
Vera pointed to the men and handful of women behind him, all dressed for a night of clubbing. “Oh, so you’re not just lying to me? You’re lying to all of them too?”
“Tyler, what’s this about?” asked a woman a few feet behind him.
The man quickly went from panic to rage. “Lady, I don’t know who you are or what you’re on, but—”
“You don’t know the mother of your own children?” Vera screeched.
I turned to Brody, his eyes full of glee and jaw practically on the floor, and that’s when I saw the security guards starting to fill in. “Uh, it might be go time,” I said.
Brody looked around with a childish giggle and then nodded before we both stepped closer to Vera. But then she grabbed a beer from the nearest table and splashed it right into the guy’s face.
“You fucking bitch!” the man roared and surged forward without any sort of compunction about going after a girl.
Okay, this was about to get bad. Don’t get me wrong. I was impressed. But I didn’t think I could fight off this guy if it came down to it. The best Brody could do was a convincing stage punch and I came from a family full of insured hands.
I grabbed Vera’s arm and she spun around, her eyes full of adrenaline and a hint of fear. “Come on,” I told her, tilting my chin back to the security guards.
With barely a thought for Brody, I pulled her behind me as we snaked through the crowd. Hopefully we would get lost in the swarms of people. I knew these places were covered in cameras, but maybe a bookish-looking girl in a cardigan causing a scene with some guy who looked like a walking mug shot would be low on the priority list.
I glanced over my shoulder to see Brody splitting off toward the exit and a group of security guards on his heels.
“This way,” I told Vera.
Her cheeks were flushed and she held a hand to her chest, constantly checking behind us. “Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god. I thought about punching him, but that felt way more like assault and then I couldn’t remember if your thumb is supposed to be inside or outside of your fist.”
“Outside of the fist,” I told her as we ducked into a small souvenir shop off the lobby.
“Where’s Brody?” she whispered as I pulled her behind a rack of silk jackets with theWelcome to Las Vegassign embroidered on the back.
“He made a run for the exit, but he had a few guards on him, so we’ll have to meet him out there in a few.”
“Whatever happened to leave no man behind?” Vera asked frantically as she peeked her head over the rack.
“I don’t think we agreed to that in advance. Besides, you’re the one who assaulted a guy. For all they know, Brody was just an interested bystander.”
“It was a splash of beer!” she quipped back.
“Can I help you two?” the clerk asked with her arms crossed. Her white-blond perm formed a nest on the top of her head and her tattooed eyebrows had faded from black into a dark bluish green.
“No, we’re fine,” I said. “Just playing hide-and-seek with some fr— Fuck!” I dropped down to the ground and took Vera with me.
