Page 129 of Menace in Vegas

The crowd—thanks to Gram handing out coupons—erupts.

Gram screams like she’s at a rock concert.

Marilyn—aka Gary from Cincinnati—claps politely while dabbing her mascara-streaked cheeks.

Elvis nods solemnly. “Well damn. That was spicy.”

He turns to the judges. “Alright. Marilyn, Showgirl Wendy—thoughts?”

Wendy gives a watery smile. “I vote for the bride. She had attitude.”

Marilyn hiccups and says, “I like the tall one.”

It’s a tie.

All eyes turn to Elvis.

“I can’t choose.”

We look at Gram, who gives us an evil grin. “It’s a tie. You know what that means…”

Connor and I groan before saying in unison, “Dance-off.”

52

CONNOR

Allie squares off like we’re about to duel.

I crack my knuckles. “I hope you’re ready to lose.”

She flips her hair. “I was born ready. To win.”

“Wait. Are those glow-in-the-dark heels?”

“You don’t wanna know.”

Gram yells, “Hit it, DJ!” and “Viva Las Vegas” starts blaring over the speakers. The competition is officially on.

I bust out every terrible dance move I know. The worm. The sprinkler. The menace shuffle, which currently has a copyright pending. I slide across the floor, narrowly avoiding a tourist’s nachos.

Allie starts busting out various dance moves. At one point, she twerks in rhythm with Showgirl Wendy.

Glitter rains over us, but we don’t stop.

Marilyn screams. Someone throws dollar bills.

Then Allie switches her moves and shimmies like her life depends on it.

Gram shrieks, “SHE SHIMMIED! IT’S OVER!”

I collapse dramatically on the chapel floor, defeated.

Elvis lifts her hand in the air like a boxing champ. “Your winner, and official honeymoon decider… the bride!”

Gram sobs into her tissue. “That was the most romantic thing I’ve ever seen.”

Allie spins to me with a wicked grin. “Hope you packed sunscreen, menace.”

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