Page 1 of Against the Odds

ChapterOne

“Are you sure I can’t get—”

The sound of retching through the bathroom door answers my question. This is the worst girls’ trip in history. I should have stuck to my guns and told my sister no. It was my first and second response to her begging but, in the end, she pulled the “my boyfriend dumped me” card with puppy dog eyes and I caved. It isn’t that I don’t like a reason to get away or have a good time, but this is a quick weekend getaway and feels like a lot of traveling for only two days.

The weekend hasn’t gone as planned. At all. I wish the worst of it all was the matching T-shirts announcing our girls’ trip that Rachel made us all wear on travel day. I wasn’t that lucky. While sitting at my gate, listening to my favorite podcast, the attendant announced my flight’s delay. The first of three. At least Rachel and her best friends, Autumn and Marci, were also delayed and waited for me at the airport.

By the time the ride share dropped us at our hotel, we were exhausted, grumpy, and starving. The check-in line was long and the hotel staff overwhelmed. Yet, they found time to offer every upgrade available. My patience dwindled as the entire process took over an hour. Onlymypatience. The others found their second wind of energy as they hopped around the casino floor, dropping bills into various machines. When it was my turn to hand over my identification and secure our room keys, the computer system crashed.

All signs that we should have turned around and gone home. Instead, we dragged our bags as we followed signs directing us to our room. Hunger beat out exhaustion, and after a quick change of clothes, we were out the door in search of sustenance.

Yesterday, day one, was a cluster of missteps and complaints but we managed to salvage the night with a delicious late-night dinner and one of the best spicy margaritas I’ve ever had. When I say best I meanthe best.Like somewhere a love song was written about that liquid heaven.

None of that explains how I now find myself standing outside one of our suite’s bathroom doors, listening to Marci vomit like a freshman in the bushes outside of a frat party. Her cries for someone to end her pain went from shrieking to a dull begging. That could be a good sign.

I want to tell both Marci and Autumn a simple “I told you so” but won’t. At least not tonight. Who orders sushi poolside in over one-hundred-degree temperatures? These two geniuses. Thank goodness Rachel and I had enough sense to grab our meal at the actual snack shack and avoid raw fish.

“Rachel, I think we should stay with them.”

Spinning on her stiletto, my baby sister glares at me and then the door. I know this look. It’s the same one she gave her third grade teacher when she received a poor grade on a math test. Our dad was on the receiving end of “the look” when he told her she couldn’t date until she was eighteen. He wasn’t serious but still got the soul piercing stare.

“I am not giving up our last night in Vegas to sit here and listen to them puke. We told them not to eat the sushi. They didn’t listen.” Her voice rises at the end of her rant, ensuring that each of her friends hear her, even if they are in two different rooms. Unless Autumn’s moan from her bed is to be considered acknowledgement, neither respond to Rachel’s comment.

“Katy, I wanted to come on this trip because I’ve not been single since I was seventeen years old. Two nights in Sin City was not supposed to be spending most of night one full of delays and night two holding my friends’ hair back. I did that in college. I’ve paid my dues. I want to go to a club. I want to dance with a stranger. I want—well I don’t know what else but something.”

She has a point. Rachel and Wayne were together for seven years and she’s never experienced being single. Clubs are not my scene. None of what Vegas has to offer is my preferred form of fun. I like a neighborhood bar with good music and better friends. I spend many weekend nights with my co-workers and friends at our town’s bar, Country Road. It’s casual and the energy is always high. Clubs are loud and crowded. Sticky and sweaty.

Begrudgingly, I step away from the door and grab my wristlet from the table. I guess the Westbrook sisters are going to a club. Lord help us.

* * *

As far as clubs go, I guess Vivid isn’t too bad. Yes, it’s crowded, but Rachel manages to sweet talk her way into a corner booth that two older men were occupying when we arrived. The music isn’t my preference, but whoever designed the space took into consideration how loud it could be and the area we’re sitting in seems to have the speakers set to a lower level.

I take a sip from my Moscow Mule and smile as Rachel people-watches and entertains me with ridiculous made-up stories about each group around us. It’s a game we’ve played our entire lives. As kids we took a lot of road trips and spent many summer days at motel pools. We started making up stories of the people we encountered and sometimes they were a little out of control and outrageous.

A man and woman a few tables away seem to be in a heated argument. We watch for a few minutes; their body language clear that it’s going to be a long night for each of them. Rachel offers her version of the argument first.

“He suggested they invite another woman to join them in their room for a night of kinky sex. That set her off and she told him if they are inviting a third person to their room it should be a man.”

I laugh and shake my head, “Nope. This is their first time out at a club and he thought he could get away with cheap vodka instead of the good stuff. She’s pissed.”

When it’s Rachel’s turn to expand on her version of the story, I wait to see how the threesome storyline plays out but instead, nothing happens next, she’s mute. Standing like a statue, her mouth formed in an “O” as her eyes widen. I follow her gaze and see two men standing mere steps away. The shorter of the two is staring at Rachel, only instead of a look of surprise, he looks like he just saw his prey. His friend—a very good-looking friend I may add—is talking but I don’t think the guy hears what he’s saying.

In a few steps, he’s standing in front of Rachel, his hand extended. She giggles and pushes a piece of her long hair behind her ear. Oh for goodness sake. If she... yep, she twirled the end. This is embarrassing. When the man leans down to whisper in her ear she smacks his shoulder and laughs. Does she move her hand? Nope. It stays there. It’s like she read a book on flirting like some bad RomCom.

“I think we’ve lost them,” a deep voice says to my right.

ChapterTwo

Slowly I turn my head and take in the man before me. Broad shoulders, chiseled jaw, and eyes dark as the midnight sky. He renders me speechless but I have enough of my senses to look at Rachel and her new friend. They are deep in conversation, her hand still on his bicep and his arm wrapped around her waist.

“Looks like it,” I say with a sigh. The deep chuckle from the handsome stranger next to me confirms I was louder than intended.

Rachel has always been flirty and a touchy-feely kind of girl so her closeness to the man showering her with attention isn’t a surprise. I’m happy for my sister. She deserves positive attention after the hurt and disappointment she’s dealt with this year.

“Mind if I sit? I have a feeling we aren’t going anywhere.”

Scooting over to give him space, I take another sip of my drink. Small talk has never been an issue for me but sitting here with this man, I have no idea where to start. Thankfully, I don’t have to worry.

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