Page 14 of Vegas Baby

Her eyes go wide. “As in, leave Las Vegas?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She bounces on the balls of her feet. “Let’s go!”

I can’t help laughing. I’ve never seen her so excited. I gesture for her to precede me out. Let the mini adventure begin.

* * *

Thirty minutes later, as we pass through Boulder City, Kira perks up from her silent perusal of the landscape and stares straight ahead.

“Is that … water?” she asks, leaning forward as the blue sparkling mass appears on the horizon.

“Lake Mead,” I confirm. “I take it you haven’t been here before, then?”

“No,” she says quietly, entranced. “I haven’t been … anywhere, really.”

I frown and make a mental note to rectify that. “It’s one of my favorite quick escapes. You’ll see.”

We keep driving, stopping at the park entrance where I show my pass and ID to get waved through. Kira pays the stop no mind, her eyes fixed on the lake to our right. I smile as I pull forward, glad she’s enjoying it.

I watch her out of the corner of my eye for the last few minutes of the drive, her excitement getting more and more palpable as we pull into the dirt parking lot at the marina entrance.

“Are we going on a boat?” she asks, awe and excitement in her tone.

“Not today,” I say with a laugh. “But there’s a café on the harbor with a great view. You okay to walk a bit?”

She turns a shining smile toward me. “Yes,” she replies simply, then hurries out of the car.

The late October afternoon is pleasantly warm as we head toward the harbor walkway. Kira looks a little reticent as we step onto the stone pavers of the relatively narrow path over the water. Both of her arms snake around my right one, gripping tightly.

“It’s safe,” I assure her, reaching my free hand over to squeeze one of hers.

She smiles nervously up at me but allows me to lead her the few minutes’ walk to the café. When we’re almost there, we pass a couple of kids sitting on one of the wooden boat platforms jutting off the harbor walkway, tossing popcorn to a writhing mass of fish below.

Kira gasps and without a thought, stops and leans over the edge to watch. “I’ve never seen fish act so crazy. What are they?”

“Carp,” I respond. “They’re demanding pendejos, since they’re used to people feeding them. It’s kind of a thing here. Do you want to try it?”

She straightens up, seizing my arm again, as if suddenly realizing how close to the water she was. “Maybe later,” she murmurs.

I chuckle and lead her on, into the café.

To my surprise she orders their Titanic burger — the biggest, messiest burger they have. And it’s also delicious, so I order one too.

We find a table and sit, waiting for our food as we sip on Cokes.

“So, did the PT say anything else? Any specific concerns?” I prod as she’s been silent pretty much since we left.

She shrugs lightly. “I have exercises to do. He told me to be patient and not push too hard, or I won’t be able to go back to work for longer.”

I raise a brow. “And that’s your plan? Going back to the show?”

She leans back into her chair, wrapping her arms around her. “Yes, I hope to. I’m meeting my stage manager tomorrow afternoon to discuss my contract.”

Well, color me surprised. “I’m glad to hear it. Do you need help getting there?”

“I can manage, but thank you.”

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