Page 2 of Huge Pucking Play

My stomach growls, reminding me we were supposed to grab dinner soon. But which restaurant? We hadn't decided yet when I went off to find the bathroom.

A guy bumps into me, nearly knocking me over. "Watch it!" I snap.

The guy looks at me with an unsteady gaze and mumbles, “Sorry darlin’. But you shoulda been watching where you’re going.” He weaves slightly with a stupid half-smile on his lips, and I realize he’s sloppy drunk.

I have no time for this. I turn to walk away but I feel a hand around my waist. What the fuck?

“Are you looking for someone, baby? A pretty thing like you shouldn’t be roaming around by yourself, you know.”

I whip around with fury in my eyes and sloppy drunk guy takes a quick step back. “Get your hands off of me!”

“Alright, alright, I was just trying to be nice…geez. I guess that’s what a guy gets for trying.”

I storm off as quickly as I can, feeling completely ridiculous in bare feet. I don’t want to even think about what is on the floors and now all over the bottom of my feet. Could this night get any worse?

I feel a cold liquid running down the back of my dress and I realize, yes, it actually can get worse. Much worse actually.

I whip around expecting to see the drunk guy again but instead I see a mountain of a man with a large beer in his hand. Beer that is also now making its way down my back.

He stands there looking down at me, eyebrows raised. "Sorry, I was pushed from behind...can I help you find a napkin or something to wipe up the mess?”

I feel like I’m going to cry and I’m guessing I look as frazzled as I feel. The man’s face morphs into surprised concern.

“Are you okay?" he asks. “I really am sorry.”

I shake my head. "Lost my friends, lost my phone, broke my heel off. I'm great. Perfect actually."

He frowns sympathetically. "That's rough. Is there anything I can do to help?"

For a moment, I consider asking to use his phone, but I realize I have no idea what any of my friends’ phone numbers are. Shit. "Thanks, but I've got this."

His eyes narrow for a moment as if he’s considering how far to push it. “How about I buy you some dinner and we can strategize what to do with your situation?”

I hesitate. I am starving and it would be nice to sit down somewhere and try to regroup. I also realize that I have no way to pay for food or some new shoes without my phone. Stupid me for using my phone to pay for everything these days. I make a mental note to start carrying a credit card again after all of this is over.

I eye the man warily, weighing my options. He doesn’t look like a serial killer, so I’ve got that going for me. He’s actually very handsome with salt-and-pepper hair and gorgeous brown eyes that are warm and full of concern. Definitely older, but in a super-hot kind of way that makes me gulp involuntarily.

He's standing there patiently, studying my face as if trying to predict my next move.

My stomach growls again, louder this time.

"Okay," I concede. "But just dinner. Then I really need to find my friends."

He nods, a small smile playing at his lips. "Of course. I'm Garrett, by the way."

"Cyn," I reply, falling into step beside him. “Short for Cynical. I mean Cynthia.”

He chuckles as we weave through the sea of slot machines and blackjack tables, the constant ding-ding-ding of both winners and losers echoing in my ears. The smell of cigarette smoke and cheap perfume surrounds us.

"Any preference?" Garrett asks, gesturing to the array of restaurants lining the casino floor.

I scan the options, hoping to catch a glimpse of Sophie's red dress or Megan's bleached blonde hair. No such luck.

"That steakhouse looks good," I say, pointing to a dimly lit establishment with rich mahogany accents.

Garrett nods approvingly. "Great choice. A filet and a bourbon are exactly what I need."

As we enter, the din of the casino fades away, replaced by the soft clink of cutlery and murmur of conversation. The hostess raises an eyebrow at my bare feet but says nothing as she leads us to a cozy booth in the corner.

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