Total pages in book: 154
Estimated words: 148473 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 742(@200wpm)___ 594(@250wpm)___ 495(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 148473 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 742(@200wpm)___ 594(@250wpm)___ 495(@300wpm)
I don’t say anything more because the car has just pulled up to the entrance of The Extravagant. I step out first then hold the door for her. The late-January air of Vegas greets us with a crisp, refreshing chill as the sun dips low in the sky. The city’s lights flicker on, the bright neon summoning the night.
After the driver pops the trunk, I sling my duffel over my shoulder and reach for Maeve’s bag too.
“I can carry it,” she says.
“I know, but I want to,” I say, taking her small roller bag.
“Do you always get what you want?” It’s asked playfully. Teasingly.
But as I look at her, an unexpected pang lodges in my chest—a pang that feels like it’s trying to tell me something I don’t want to hear. I quickly look away, trying to dismiss this irritating emotion as best I can. “No. But maybe I’ll win at blackjack tonight,” I say, hoping to cover up the ache I’ve no business feeling.
We head inside.
The hotel’s jewel-themed lobby is over the top, even for Vegas, with ruby-red velvet couches and an emerald-green carpet. A huge chandelier dripping with faux gemstones hangs from the ceiling.
“This place looks like a jewelry box. Good thing I brought something nice to wear,” Maeve muses as we weave past the Friday sleek and stylish crowd on our way to the check-in desk. “Or they’d kick me out.”
“Why do I feel like you’d enjoy being kicked out?” I joke.
“Because I would. It’d be another adventure.”
“You’d get your ‘Kicked out of a Vegas hotel’ badge,” I say, grateful for the levity.
Her eyes widen. “Yes!”
“I suspect I’d be picking you up at the police station,” I tell her.
“And you’d love every second of it,” she says.
The thing is, I would, a thought I don’t want to examine too closely right now.
We reach the long, shiny brass check-in desk. The first available clerk, a young man with a sharp suit and perfectly gelled black hair, greets us with a practiced smile. “Welcome to The Extravagant. How was your flight?”
“I have zero complaints because my best friend upgraded me to first class,” Maeve says, looking my way with a smile.
“Well, he’s a keeper, then,” the clerk responds with a wink.
“Don’t I know it,” Maeve replies.
As the polished clerk takes our IDs, a harried sigh draws my attention to a couple checking in with the next clerk. A man and woman stand at the counter with three kids circling the luggage at their ankles. One child is maybe in middle school, but the other two are younger, the girl tugging relentlessly on her mother’s sleeve while the younger boy darts around the adults, making airplane noises.
The woman looks at the older man behind the desk with an exhausted plea. “Is there any way we can get an extra room? For the kids?”
“I’m sorry, ma’am.” The clerk glances at his screen through gold-rimmed glasses. “We’re fully booked tonight.”
Her shoulders slump. “Thanks for trying.”
The husband, judging by his wedding ring, rubs her shoulders. “We’ll make the best of it, honey.”
“I know,” she murmurs. It sounds like an attempt to stay upbeat, but both their expressions say sleep is the new sex.
Ouch. I’ve had some sleepless nights myself. More than I’d like, so I feel for them. Maeve and I exchange a quick glance of sympathy, then she mouths, “We should share.”
For a couple of seconds, I don’t move. I picture her and me in one room together. Navigating showers, and bedtime, and changing into going-out clothes. That sounds fuck-all hard. No way will that help me stay on the friendship path. After these passing thoughts I’ve had, I don’t need temptation.
But I’m a grown-ass adult. I can handle a hotel room, no problem. This family has a problem we can fix, and it’d be the right thing to do.
I give Maeve a nod that says, Go for it, and she claps in excitement. Her delight in helping someone is worth my discomfort.
Maeve lifts a hand to catch the tired mom’s attention. “Hey,” she says with a cheery smile. “I couldn’t help but hear that you were looking for an extra room. We happen to have two. They’re both on the eleventh floor—pretty close to each other too. East Tower. Would you like to trade?”
The mom’s jaw falls open. “Oh my god. We’re on the twelfth floor. Are you sure?”
“Absolutely,” Maeve says.
“It’s not a problem at all,” I agree, then turn back to the slick guy checking us in. “We’ll take their room and give our two to this family.”
“How kind of you,” he says, then quickly makes the adjustment in conjunction with the other clerk.
“Thank you,” the mother says with visible relief as she pulls her kids closer.
“We seriously appreciate it,” the man with her says. Then he peers at me more closely, as if my face is a math problem to solve. “This might be weird. But you look familiar.”