by Sarah Peis
“Sounds great. Do you want me to get rid of everything or leave something for tomorrow?” I asked, getting up.
“We have more boxes in the truck, so feel free to get rid of everything. The more you hand out, the less we have to take home again.”
Someone called Landon’s name, and with an apologetic shrug, he turned around. He greeted the guy, and they slapped backs and walked a few steps away.
I armed myself with a stack of brochures and put the boxes of key rings and bottle openers on top of the chair I was sitting on.
I took up position next to the shiny purple car. I loved the paint job, the color shimmering blue one moment, purple the next. It was polished to within an inch of its life, making me want to put a fingerprint on it just to see if it would magically disappear.
As soon as I stood there and smiled my best saleslady smile, someone came up to me and asked, “What’s the Thunderbird packing?”
First: What the hell is a Thunderbird? Isn’t this a car show? And second: Why would it be packing anything?
“Sorry?” I asked, hoping he’d think I just didn’t hear him properly.
He pointed to the car I was standing in front of. “The Thunderbird. What’s it packing?”
At least I found out he was talking about the car. “I don’t think there’s anything inside,” I answered. “But I’m happy to check for you.”
His eyebrows drew together, and he looked like he wanted to ask another question.
Fudgeblaster, I didn’t think it through when I offered to help. Why can’t he just read the damn brochure?
“Key ring?” I asked when he seemed to have gotten over his initial confusion and opened his mouth once more.
He took the key ring, and I held up the bottle opener as well. “Everyone needs a bottle opener.” I pushed it into his hand. “There you go. Have a nice day.”
He blinked at me but thankfully moved on. Could have gone worse. Could have also gone better.
“Can you start the Thunderbird up?” another guy asked as he came up to me.
Where are they all coming from? And why all the questions? Can’t they just appreciate the beauty of the car and walk away?
“Let me see if the key is inside,” I said, still wanting to be helpful.
The key wasn’t in the ignition, but when I pulled the visor down, it fell out. I was too slow to catch it. No surprise there. Coordination had never been one of my assets.
Unlucky for me, the key disappeared somewhere in the car. I checked under the seat, in every crease of the cream leather seats, and on the ground next to the driver side, but it was gone.
I was half lying on the floorboard of the passenger seat, lifting the mat, when Landon came over.
“What’s going on? Did you lose something?” he asked.
Please, if there is a higher power that can hear my prayers right now, don’t let my butt show.
My undies had the day of the week printed on the rear. And they were monstrosities. Not fit for public consumption. If they weren’t so comfortable, I would have gotten rid of them long ago.
I stood up with as much dignity as I could muster and met Landon’s questioning gaze. “I lost the keys to your car.”
He frowned at me. “I didn’t catch that. I thought you said you lost the keys.”
“That’s because it’s exactly what I said,” I whispered, my voice getting quieter with each word.
Landon blinked at me. Not a word left his lips. Now, I didn’t know him all that well yet, but he didn’t strike me as someone who was quiet. He had been talkative from the moment we met. I guessed his silence to be a bad thing.
Turned out I was wrong when a grin overtook his features. Then he threw his head back and roared with laughter.
“I’ll find them. Promise,” I said, not sure if he was laughing because he thought it was funny or because this was a case of either laugh or strangle me.
“We have a spare at the motel. Don’t stress if you can’t find them. I’ll have a look later.”
I wavered, trying to comprehend his reaction. Why wasn’t he angry? I’d just lost the keys to what looked like an expensive car. “I’m really sorry.”
He waved me off and tugged on a strand of my hair again. He seemed to have a fascination with touching it. I didn’t know if it was because he liked it or because he found it interesting. The second option usually wasn’t as good as it sounded.
“Don’t worry about it. Wouldn’t be the first time we lost keys, so we’re prepared.”
He studied me for a moment and stepped closer, the tip of his black boots touching my flats. “Hey, honestly, it’s no big deal. We lose things all the time. And as I said, there’s a spare key somewhere.”
I nodded and took a deep breath. I had the easiest job out of everyone and still managed to screw it up.
Landon smiled at me before being pulled away yet again by an eager visitor. I decided to stay farther away from the car. Hopefully that would stop people from asking me questions about it.
My plan seemed to work, and I got rid of everything that was in the boxes. I even enjoyed myself after I got over my embarrassment of losing the keys. I mean, who did that? At least I was fairly certain they’d be somewhere in the car.
“Who’s ready for a drink?” Clay said, rubbing his hands together when things started to quiet down.
“Hell yes,” Mason said, taking a sip from his water bottle.
“You want to go with the guys? Or do something else?” Landon asked.
“A drink sounds great,” I said, looking at Landon, who didn’t seem tired at all. Even though he would have been here for at least twelve hours, he was still smiling.
He took my hand, and we followed the guys. “Let me show you our kind of Vegas, then.”
“We need more Vossa.”
“What’s Vossa?”
“I think she means vodka.”
One thing I never thought I’d ever do in my life was dance on top of a bar. The other thing was yelling for more Vossa.
Landon steadied me and pushed away the bottle Clay was holding up. “What the hell are you doing?”
I reached for the bottles in front of me but was too slow. Even though there seemed to be two, I couldn’t grab either one. Shame. I wanted more Vossa.
Clay tried handing me the bottle again. “Why? She’s an adult. She can make her own decisions.”
I wobbled on my high perch, nearly toppling over in my attempts to grab the damn thing. Landon put his hands on my waist and sat me down on the bar top. He wedged himself in between my legs. I closed them around him, afraid he’d try and escape.
“Give me that.” Landon snatched the bottle from Clay and handed it to the bartender.
I followed the bottle with my eyes, but my arms didn’t cooperate and lift fast enough to get it back. “Hey, that’s mine,” I complained.
“You don’t need it, believe me,” Landon said, putting an arm around my waist. “Can we get some water, please?” he called out over my shoulder.
I shuffled closer to Landon, the bar the perfect height to bring us face-to-face.
He smells like heaven.
Landon put his arms around me. “Thanks. And usually I’d return the compliment, but you mostly just smell like the whiskey you poured over yourself at the last place.”
Guess I said that out loud.
“Sorry about that,” I said, unable to lean away to give his nose a break. It was like he’d become a part of me. And not touching him seemed like the worst kind of torture.
“She’s drunker than you were last year,” Clay said and smirked at Mason. “I thought that night was the funniest shit I’d ever seen. Turns out this is even funnier.”
“Shut up. I wasn’t that bad,” Mason said, his brows drawn.
Clay’s grin took over his face. “You pushed the Impala all the way back to the motel. That’s five miles. By yourself. To this day I don’t know how you managed to do it as drunk as you were.”
“Jameso
n told me not to let the Impala out of my sight. What else do you think I would do? Leave it at the bar?” Mason responded, rolling his eyes.
“Ah, yeah. That’s what people who are too drunk to drive normally do.”
“No way. Jameson would have killed me.”
Clay clapped Mason on the back. “He’s your brother. And you guys are close. No way would he have done more than punch you.”
“You clearly haven’t been punched by him before. He doesn’t hold back just because we’re related.”
The thought of siblings reminded me that I needed to check in with my sister. I looked around for my bag but couldn’t find it.
“What do you need?” Landon asked, interpreting my drunk squinting correctly.
“My bag. I need my phone. I haven’t checked in with Brielle in a while.”
“You sure that’s a good idea? Maybe wait an hour or two.”
“Wait? Why would I wait? What if she needs me?” I covered my face with my hands. “Oh God, I shouldn’t have left her by herself. What if she’s in trouble?”
Landon pulled me closer, both his arms going around me. “She’s fine. If she wasn’t, I’m sure you would know. You said you talked to the parents of the girl she’s staying with.”
“Oh yeah, I did, didn’t I?” I nibbled on my lip, Landon’s gaze following my every move.
I put my hand on his cheek and widened my eyes to make myself look more sober than what I was. “Just one quick message?”
He sighed but retrieved my bag from somewhere on the floor.
“Fine. But for the record, I tried to stop you.”
It took me a few tries to unlock the phone, but eventually I managed.
Me: Hows you? I loves Vossa.
Me: I’m fabulousous. Me loves Vossa too. Where’s you?
Me: Vegas Las.
Me: You’re here? No way. We shoulds meet.
I stared at my screen in confusion. Brielle was in Vegas? How did she get here?
Another message came in and things became a little clearer.
Brielle: You do realize you’ve just been texting with yourself, right?
Brielle: And please tell me you’re drunk.
Me: Shuts it.
Brielle: I’ll remind you of this conversation with yourself tomorrow.
Me: I have to goop.
Brielle: I’m guessing that means go. Have fun. Stay safe.
“All good?” Landon’s deep baritone made me forget all about the conversation with myself and then my sister.
“Brilliant.”
I handed him my phone, and he put it back in my bag like this was what we usually did. I had never felt so comfortable with someone.
“I need to powder my nose,” I said, the sudden urge to pee making me squirm.
Landon helped me down. “I’ll take you.”
I didn’t protest because him coming with me meant more time with him. Once I left tomorrow, all this would just be a beautiful dream. I had to make the most of our time together. Even if that included a trip to the bathroom.
The bar we were in was in Fremont. The building was old, it was rustic, and it had charm. It also only had two toilets. We got in line, me leaning against the wall for support, Landon standing close to me.
He took every opportunity to touch me. And if I knew one thing, it was that I wanted to be with him tonight. No more fears, no more excuses. My ten-year plan was on hold until tomorrow.
“Is that Sandy and Danny?” I yelled, the adrenaline shooting through my body making me stand up straight.
“Who?” Landon asked, his gaze going to where I was pointing.
“Over there. They look just like them. It’s my favorite movie of all time. I always wanted to dress up as Sandy. Can we go over there and ask where they got their costumes from?”
Landon grinned and shook his head. “Sure. Let’s go ask them.”
Turned out they’d had the costumes for a while and didn’t even buy them in Vegas. They’d come for an audition, but they didn’t get the part.
The disappointment must have been evident on my face, because Landon pulled his wallet out and looked inside. “I’ll give you three hundred dollars if you change outfits with us.”
The Sandy and Danny look-alikes thought about it for 2.5 seconds before nodding. “Deal.”
And that was how I found myself in a toilet with two strangers and Landon. It sounded weirder than it was. All we did was strip to our underwear and change clothes.
Okay, maybe it was a little weird.
But my dream of dressing up like Sandy had finally come true. It didn’t matter that my hair wasn’t blonde. Or that I needed Landon’s help to get into the tight black leather pants. Or that the fake Sandy and Danny propositioned us.
Because Landon looked amazing in a black leather jacket.
“You look just like Danny,” I gushed when he finally folded his tall frame into the leather jacket that was at least a size too small.
“Is it my dance moves that remind you of him or the fact that we’re both male?” he deadpanned.
I nudged him. “What’s with the negativity?”
“Sorry. I meant to say how much I feel like Danny in this getup,” he said, smirking at me.
I grinned. “That’s more like it. Now let’s find a place that does karaoke.”
“Hell no. I’m not singing. No.”
Fake Danny and Sandy were fully dressed and thankfully left without making this situation any weirder. After everyone left me in the toilet, I took care of business, needing more time than anticipated since I couldn’t do the pants up again.
In the end I had to give up and stick my head out the door with my pants down around my knees. “Landon, can you come back?” I yelled, hoping he’d hear me over the noise. He was leaning on the wall opposite the toilet, and as soon as the door opened, he looked my way.
He didn’t comment on my state, just helped me with my pants with only one raised eyebrow. Once I stumbled my way outside, Landon guided me back to the guys. They were still standing in the same spot at the bar.
Their eyes went wide when we came up next to them.
“What the fuck happened to you?” Mason asked, looking us up and down, then up again.
“We’re Sandy and Danny,” I announced, then spun in a circle. Bad idea, since my head started spinning and I lost focus. The lack of oxygen thanks to the tight pants didn’t help. I stumbled over my own feet but shouldn’t have worried.
Landon stopped me from banging against the bar by pulling me into his side. I settled in with a contented sigh, one arm going to his back underneath the jacket, the other resting on his abs.
“But why?” Clay asked, his beer still suspended halfway to his mouth.
“It’s my favorite movie,” I said.
“My favorite movie is Braveheart. You don’t see me dressed in a kilt with blue face paint,” Clay argued.
Landon smacked him over the head. “Shut up.”
Clay rubbed his head. “You’re already pussy whipped without getting any pussy.”
Landon stood up straight, his body going tight. “Don’t talk about things you know nothing about.”
“Fuck, relax. Since when do you get so worked up about nothing?”
“Since you’re acting like an asshole.”
“I’m going out for a smoke,” Clay said and disappeared with his beer.
“Where’s he going?” Mason asked, having paid more attention to the girl currently rubbing up against him than what we were talking about.
“For a smoke,” Landon answered.
Mason frowned, his brows drawn tight. “But he doesn’t smoke. What did you say to him?”
“Nothing he didn’t deserve.”
“You wanna go to a party?” the girl asked Mason.
He winked at us. “I’m guessing that’s a no for you guys?”
Landon didn’t answer, but he didn’t have to.
Mason saluted us and grinned. “I’ll go find Clay. I’m sure he�
��ll be my wingman for tonight. You kids have fun.”
“Where should we go now that we’re dressed all fancy?” Landon asked, looking down at me.
“The Strip? I haven’t really seen it at nighttime yet.”
My hotel was on the Strip, and I saw a little on the drive back from Fremont Street last night, but I wanted to walk around and experience Vegas at night.
Landon held his hand out to me. “Your wish is my command.”
I slipped my hand into his. Vegas, here we come.
“I need you to step out of the fountain with your hands in the air.”
“Hands in the air? Are you kidding me? Where do you think I’d be hiding a weapon? In my skintight pants? Behind my tiny belt buckle? Oh wait, probably in the hair. I could see how you would get confused. It is a lot of hair.”
“Kinsley,” Landon said, hands on his hips. “Why don’t you come out of the fountain and explain to this nice officer why you were in there?”
“Oh, all right. But only if you catch me like they do in Grease.”
“How can I refuse such a great offer?” Landon said and stepped a little away from the ledge, holding out his arms. “Come on, then. Let’s get this over with.”
He turned to the officer. “It’s easier if you just let this happen. I fear otherwise one of us will have to jump into the fountain and get her.”
The cop didn’t look impressed, but he also didn’t argue. I took that as my cue to start running and did so without delay. Water was splashing everywhere, and my run was more of an awkward jump through the knee-high water.
Landon was as attuned to me as ever and caught me when I leaped at him. He turned us around, and I heard a loud crack.
We both stilled and looked down at his cell phone that was teetering on the ledge of the fountain, the screen broken. And then it slid into the water, committing phone suicide.
May it rest in peace.
Landon put me down and leaned in to get it.
“Sorry I killed your phone,” I said, watching as Landon shook the water out of the poor carcass.
“Put your hands behind your back,” the officer barked, preventing me from saying any last words for the phone. His partner was standing off to the side, grinning. At least someone thought I was funny.