Page 200 of Menace in Vegas

I sigh. “God, I hope not.”

She glances up at me, brows lifted. “You hope...not?”

I grin. “It sounds perfect.”

A smile breaks across her face. “Maybe she’ll write erotic gator poetry for their wedding.”

A loud laugh bursts out of me before I kiss her forehead.

That wouldn’t surprise me at all.

96

ALLISON

It’s just the three of us on the flight home—Connor, Gram, and me.

Gram is two Bloody Marys deep before we even hit cruising altitude, already holding court in the aisle like she owns the damn plane.

“I told the flight attendant I needed extra room for these hips,” she announces, patting her floral carry-on, which I’m ninety-nine percent sure is stuffed with snacks, backup sequins, or blunt objects.“Told her I’ve been carrying generations of family trauma, and it’s starting to show.”

Connor groans and pulls his baseball cap lower over his face.

I sip my ginger ale, trying not to laugh.

Gram reaches into her bag and pulls out a Tupperware container, offering it like she’s Moses handing down the commandments. “Brownie?”

I hesitate. “Are they... regular brownies?”

She winks. “They’re happy brownies.”

The flight attendant arrives just in time to hear that and looks horrified. “Ma’am, you can’t distribute?—”

“Don’t you dare touch my brownies, Barbara.” Gram clutches them to her chest. “They are medicinal. Emotional. Spiritual. Also, I added walnuts.”

Chaos ensues.

Connor refuses to intervene.

I pretend I don’t know her.

Eventually, turbulence hits, and the captain demands everyone return to their seats.

Gram huffs and flops into hers, dramatically clutching her sequined beach tote like she’s saying goodbye to the Titanic.

And then she destroys us all.

“If we die, I just want you all to know I gave Elvis a blow job in Vegas!”

Horrified silence crashes over the cabin.

Then all hell breaks loose.

Someone snorts.

Another gasps.

A kid asks their mom what a blow job is.

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