All Bets Are Off (Vegas Kings - Alexander)

Sin City Sad

"Oh my God, really?" Lacy Smith plunked herself down on the low granite wall next to the sidewalk. "Could this trip possibly get any worse?"

Her question was rhetorical, of course, and ignored by the inebriated, jostling, sun-kissed crowds streaming past her: girls in cute dresses and high heels, guys in expensive shoes and silk shirts. Happy and bubbling with excitement. Like she should be right now. Every couple was holding hands or had their arms around each other. Lacy was just as lonely as they weren't. Shrieking laughter pealed across the asphalt and echoed off the neon-lit walls. Cars honked. Music played. Everyone in this entire glittery, glamorous, over-baked town was having a good time.

Except her.

Even now, with the sun low in the sky, inhaling the mid-July Las Vegas air was like breathing inside a furnace. She didn't mind the heat, or so she thought, because she'd always been a sun baby anyway. But now her armpits had soaked through her dress, her hair was stuck to the back of her neck, and her butt and the backs of her knees were sweaty. Somehow, sweat had found its way into every nook and crevice on her body. Even her ears were sweaty.

She held up a single black high heel shoe and frowned at it. Her only pair of Louboutins. Her mother helped her pay for them, as a Christmas gift. She only wore them for special occasions. They were her favorite, most expensive pair of shoes, and they looked damn good paired with this sexy, swishy black dress, thank you very much.

Had looked good.

She poked the broken heel on the shoe. "Et tu, favorite shoes?"

The heel just hung there, looking as sad and defeated as she felt.

She'd been in Las Vegas for a total of two days and one night—this being her second night, if she made it through without being hit by a car or something—and everything that could possibly go wrong had. Or had it? Best not to tempt fate and further destroy this "vacation from reality."

Her suitcase got on the plane with her, but only this morning had it finally arrived at her hotel, after vanishing into the mysterious void that lost luggage ended up in. Thankfully, everything was still inside, if a jumbled mess. At least she had the foresight to put her liquids in plastic bags, because her bottle of perfume had cracked. Her entire hotel room smelled like it, in the most obnoxious way.

She'd gone out to dinner last night, trying to enjoy her trip despite the bad start, clad in the prettiest dress she could afford since she had nothing to wear. She was the most pathetic creature in the entire restaurant: the lone, forlorn girl surrounded by groups of friends and couples, all having a good time. She bought a pricey glass of wine to lift her spirits.

The dress was white, unlike her wine selection.

When she returned to the hotel, stained and fuming, she discovered she'd lost her key card. Or maybe she'd just forgotten it back at the restaurant while trying to clean herself up with the soda water the sympathetic waiter brought her. And so, the most pathetic creature on earth continued her world tour as a blubbering girl with a red wine stain on her dress, crying at the front desk for a new room key. At least they were sympathetic too.

This morning, the arrival of her suitcase seemed a good omen. It wasn't. She accidentally ordered something she hated—she wanted to experiment—from room service for breakfast, missed the sightseeing tour she'd meant to go on—which had a non-refundable deposit—and dropped an earring down the bathroom sink drain.

Las Vegas was cursed. Or, maybe she was. Still, hope sprang eternal in her shriveled, battered little heart.

She really wanted to salvage this trip, that's why she was determined to make the most of tonight. And here she was, only an hour into it.