What Happens in Vegas

“I know so,” I said, glancing down at my phone as another text came through. “From here on out, your pity party’s over. Take down the streamers and follow me.”

We walked on another two blocks until I finally saw the restaurant. As I led the guys inside, they collectively laughed.

“Juicy Burger?” asked Corey. “You’re taking us to a place called Juicy Burger?”

I ignored him and scanned the crowd. Suddenly I felt a tap on my shoulder, whirled, and was swept up in a giant hug.

“Lauren!”

The man who embraced me lifted me from my feet, swinging me in a full circle. His smile was big and bright and full of a thousand teeth. He smelled like coconut and patchouli, but felt like a bear.

“Guys meet Nathaniel,” I grunted, using the last of the air still in my lungs. “Nathaniel, these are my friends.”

The big Samoan squeezed me one more time before putting me down. He looked happy and healthy and deeply tan. Like he’d been working outdoors, instead of running one of the bigger nightclubs in all of Ventura.

“I can’t believe you’re here,” said Nathaniel. “That after all this time, you finally dragged your ass out to the coast.”

“You know I live on a coast,” I pointed out.

Nathaniel made a sour face and laughed again. “Not the coast.”

After a round of handshakes Nathaniel led us to a table and we all sat down. There was a half-eaten burger in front of him, half the size of my head. He’d already destroyed his fries.

“Sorry I ate without you,” he apologized. “But I might’ve skipped breakfast.”

“Bullshit.”

“No, really,” he grinned again. His smile was so merry it was infectious. Even the other guys were grinning. “Anyway, is this the guy?”

He nodded toward Brody. When my brows crossed, he winked at me confidentially.

“No,” I said.

“Ah, must be him then,” said Nathaniel, poking Corey in the chest. He sipped boisterously on his soda. “Good-looking dude. Should’ve known.”

“Not him either,” I smirked, going along with it.

All eyes fell on Mason. He looked shell-shocked, maybe even a little intimidated. But then Nathaniel’s broad face broke into another crazy grin, as he pulled out a bag of tortilla chips from under the table and dangled it in front of him.

Mason’s shoulders slumped in a sigh.

“SPICYYYYY!” laughed Nathaniel.

Thirty-Nine

LAUREN

By the time we’d finished eating, we had Mason set on an all new path. He had a fresh list of contacts in his phone: agents, writers, producers, even a few budding directors Nathaniel had gotten in good with. He’d met and rubbed elbows with even more people than I imagined, while running his nightclub. And I’d already imagined quite a bit.

“I’ll put him in touch with Eddie and Fallon,” my friend said, sipping on a fresh soda. No one seemed to notice the big Samoan had ordered and finished another full meal. Or at least, nobody had said anything. “One of them will take him on for sure.”

“Really?” asked Mason excitedly. Then, more hesitantly, while raising an eyebrow. “And they’re good?”

“They’re amazing,” replied Nathaniel.

Mason looked to me, and I nodded. “They’ve been around a while,” I confirmed. “Fallon especially. She’s got some pretty popular clients.”

“Pretty popular?” laughed Nathaniel.