What Happens in Vegas

“To come for him,” I added. My eyes narrowed. “To kill him?”

The man didn’t answer right away. But his silence was all the answer I needed.

“I followed him down the hallway,” he said eventually. “I watched him stand at the door to this very room.”

My pulse quickened again. To be so close. So near to my goal…

“I ducked back for a moment,” the bearded stranger went on. “And then when I—”

BANG! BANG! BANG!

Our eyes locked. Someone was crashing against the door.

“OPEN UP!” a voice yelled. Then, after a second-long pause: “OPEN IT NOW!”

The stranger was in action again, his movements impossibly fast. He threw back a curtain, revealing another door. A secondary entrance... or exit, as the case may be.

Why didn’t I think of —

In a flash, he ducked through. He disappeared for a moment, leaving me alone, then popped back in with an exasperated expression and extended a hand.

“Here…”

I shrank away. I didn’t even know him! I had no clue who he was.

Then again…

“BACK AWAY!” I heard a voice in the hallway shout. “GET AWAY FROM THE—”

CRACK!

A shot rang out, loud and unmistakable. It was followed by another, and the sound of the door, rattling in its frame.

All of a sudden my decision became a lot easier.

“Now!”

Instinct took over, and I grabbed the stranger-who-I’d-just-fucked’s hand. We fled through another room, flying past stone walls and high vaulted ceilings. We ran over Byzantine mosaics. Around statues of Medusa, resting on polished marble pedestals.

Two archways later we burst into a secondary hallway, forming a T-shaped junction. The corridor was filled with light and warmth, the party below us. Left and right, the air was alive with the sounds of distant laughter.

Then our hands slipped apart…

And we both took off in opposite directions.

Three

ANDREA

I made three more turns before I knew where I was. I must’ve looked like a madwoman, sprinting in high heels. Flying full speed into a whole crowd of guests, who for some reason were milling around at the top of the main staircase.

I forced myself calm. My legs shook as I descended, step by step, peering over my shoulder the whole time. I grabbed a flute of champagne from the first passing server, being sure to turn my face well away as I muttered a ‘thank you’.

After all, it wouldn’t do to be recognized by one of my own co-workers.

It had taken me two months to get the job. Another three of living out the part, and actually working with the high-level catering company. That amounted to twelve solid weeks of serving and smiling and cleaning up afterward. Of dodging pinches and grabs from the richest old men in south-central Europe, while enduring the inevitable scathing looks from their wives.

Half a year wasted here already…