Screwed In Sin City

I don't deserve Josie, not after the way I treated her. But, it also took me some time to come to the realization that I can't keep myself and what's important to me away from someone who might be the key to my own happiness. Keeping her, or anyone for that matter, away from my private life is a sure-fire way to make sure that person never becomes a part of it.

It sounds so simple and absurd to think I ever thought I was making the right decision by shutting her out in the first place. And while I have made the decision now—finally—to let Josie in, it’s too late.

Not for the first time, I curse under my breath, knowing how fucking stupid I've been.

I'll make it up to her. All she has to do is show up.

But she hasn't, and I'm going to be heading on stage in a matter of minutes. How the hell I’m going to focus on the dance routines and audience is beyond me.

Just as I'm heading toward the stack of bins containing bottled water, contemplating what time I could make it to the Bermuda by if I left the Excalibur right after the show, I see Chance come around the corner, heading for me. He’s taller than I am by a few inches, and with his broad shoulders and massive amounts of tattoos, he’s like a darkened blockade that takes up most of the doorway. I offer him a curt nod as I grab one of the bottles, grabbing a second one as an afterthought and tossing it toward him.

“Your little family still here?” he asks, twisting the top off the bottle.

I roll my eyes as I take a drink, then shake my head at him. “I've told you a million goddamn times that they're not my family. He is my family. There's a difference, Chance. But, no, they left a few minutes ago.”

He just shrugs. Not that I’d expect him to understand. The man doesn’t have a thing tying him down, no roots in any place, or with anyone. And I think part of him resents me for having something he doesn’t.

“Whatever you say, man. I just let some foxy little chick with black hair know you had the fam-jam here. She's waiting out by the left exit doors.”

My heart stops, and I almost choke on my water. “Wait, you saw Josie?” My gaze immediately flits in that direction, and it's like an innate instinct kicks in as I hastily shove my way toward the direction Chance came from.

Then, something occurs to me, and I stop dead in my tracks. “You told her my family was here?” I whirl around to stare hard at the man behind me. We’ve never been friends exactly, but I’ve never had a solid reason to dislike him, either.

The stony expression on my face must be evident, because Chance suddenly seems to realize what I’m asking him. “Well, yeah,” he says, but all the bravado in his voice is gone. At least he's smart enough to look sheepish while he says it. “She asked where you were, and I just told her that your wifey—”

“Tell me you did not fucking say that to her. You fucking know she’s not my—”

But the shell-shocked look on Chance’s face now is genuine, and whatever his reasons were for his stupidity, they don’t matter. He knows he’s made a grave mistake.

So h

ave I.

I give up on speaking. I’d love nothing more than to shove my fist into Chance’s face, but that won’t solve anything. Words aren’t going to fix this, either. “Son of a bitch,” I hiss.

I bolt towards the hallway and run towards the exit doors Chance mentioned. I know before I even reach the spot he left her standing in that Josie's not there anymore.

Damn it, damn it, damn it. I whirl around, searching every face and questioning set of eyes, but they're not hers.

Josie's not here. She's gone. I try her cell number, tapping in the digits in rapid succession.

The call goes straight to voicemail.

She's gone.

And somehow, I know that this time, there's no getting her back.

I remember a time when I thought there was maybe something wrong with me for loving the opportunity I have with the Thunder And Lightning group. I figured there had to be some kind of void I was filling, or some kind of vain, narcissistic tendency that was urging me to hit that stage with the other guys and show off my mostly naked body in front of a room full of rowdy, intoxicated women.

But, there isn’t anything wrong with me for wanting to do that. Because I do it for the break. For the escape from reality. And I think everyone needs that kind of thing at one moment or another.

Not to mention, the gig pays awesomely well, and is helping me do every damn thing I truly want to do with my life. I’m an attractive guy in my late twenties—I’d be an idiot to believe the gig is going to be there forever. But it’s been providing me with everything I’ve needed.

Until now.

My needs have changed. Now, the strongest need coursing through my veins is to find Josie and make sure she damn well knows that I didn’t do what she thinks I did. That I don’t have a wife, or anybody waiting for me at home that I cheated on with her.

I’m a dancer in Las Vegas, yeah, but I do have standards. Cheating is not my style.