Vegas Virgin (Nevada Bad Boys 1)

“This just means we get to go shopping.” She tried to smile, but I could see she was empathetic to my situation.

“Right now, I think I just want to go to the hotel and drink.” My words came out like I had been drinking for years.

“At least that part of the vacation isn’t ruined.” Fiona pointed to the shuttle as it parked in front of us. The driver got out and started loading her luggage into the back.

“I’ll just hang onto mine.” I clutched my carry-on bag tight against my chest.

Vegas wasn’t shaping up to be the grand adventure we planned. I hadn’t even made it out of the airport before I was drugged and robbed—although technically I drugged myself. I slid into the back seat of the shuttle and dug around in my carry-on until I found my hairbrush. I pulled one of the fabric covered rubber bands off the handle and tied it around my hair, pulling my brown curls back in a ponytail. Chasing after the guy with my luggage, combined with the anxiety of standing in line, had left the back of my neck sweaty underneath my mop. I rubbed it with a napkin until it was dry and leaned back against the seat. As much as I craved freedom when I was at home with my parents, the only place I wanted to be in that moment was back with them. My father would know what to do. He wouldn’t have let the guy get away. My mother would have worn her heels off chasing his truck down and hitched a ride on the tailgate if it meant getting her camera back. Fiona tried to make small talk and a few jokes, but my humor was as dried up as my desire for conversation, so we rode the rest of the way in silence.

Chapter 4: Vincent

“I can’t believe this worked.” I dropped the luggage bag on the table at Dixon’s Bar when Floyd walked into the back room where we normally played cards.

“I told you there wouldn’t be any risk.” He rubbed his hands together and reached for the zipper.

“You didn’t see the chick chasing me when I ran off with her bag.” I glared at Floyd. “All she had to do was alert one of the security guards and we would both be in handcuffs.”

“I wouldn’t be in handcuffs.” He chuckled and pulled the zipper open. “Just you.”

“Bastard.” I took a cigarette from his pack and lit it up.

“Come on, Vincent. You can’t be mad. We made loot.” Floyd pulled out a camera and a small tablet that looked similar to an iPad.

“I don’t like the risk, but this stuff should bring a little bit of money at least.” I picked up the camera. “This is a good model.”

“You still know that guy who buys cameras?” He looked over at me inquisitively.

“Yeah, I can unload this—probably worth a couple of bones.” I nodded and put the camera in my lap. “What is the tablet worth?”

“I don’t know.” He pushed a button on the front. “It’s locked, so that might be a problem.”

“Can’t they trace those things?” I raised my eyebrows in concern.

“Not this one.” He flipped it over in his hand. “I don’t think—I’ll turn it off just in case.”

“What do we do with the rest of this shit?” I pushed my hand into the luggage and flipped over a handful of clothes.

“I don’t know. The bag is worth something though, so we should hang onto it. I guess we can dump the clothes.” He shrugged.

“I’ll toss them in the Salvation Army box at least.” I sighed and shook my head. “I can’t believe we’ve resorted to stealing luggage. We probably ruined someone’s vacation.”

“Don’t be such a bitch. I’m sure she can afford more shit. We need the money.” Floyd started sorting the items, picking out a few smaller items that could possibly have value.

“Speaking of money, can you spot me a twenty until we sell some of this shit? You won all my money.” I held out my hand to Floyd.

“Shit man, I already paid your tab tonight. Fine, but I’m charging you interest.” Floyd dug into his pocket and dropped a twenty-dollar bill in my hand.

“Thanks...” I nodded and started stuffing everything back in the suitcase.

Floyd left with the tablet to take it to someone he knew, and I went back to my apartment with the suitcase and the camera. I thought about swinging by the Salvation Army donation box on the way to dump all the clothes, but it was already getting late and I was tired. Even with my head hurting from the stress of the day, I still stopped at the liquor store to pick up some cheap whiskey and a pack of smokes before heading home.

Luckily, I lived in an apartment on the shitty side of Sin City where nobody would bat an eye at me rolling a suitcase towards my apartment, despite the fact I had lived there for two years. I pushed the key into the lock and dropped everything in the living room before changing into a pair of shorts. There were times when I didn’t appreciate the piece of shit apartment I lived in, but after feeling the stress of possibly having my freedom yanked out from under me again, I was extremely happy just to be able to sit down on my worn-out couch. I lit a cigarette, sipped some whiskey, and picked up the camera.

I guess I should delete all the pictures on this thing before I sell it.

I turned on the camera and started moving through the pictures. The most recent ones were from a birthday party and the girl with the stupid looking hat on appeared to be the same one that was chasing me. I didn’t get a good look at her when I was at the airport, but she was hot as hell. She had brown curls that hung around her shoulders and eyes that reminded me of the ocean. There was so much happiness etched on her face.

I remembered being that happy once when I was a little boy and my family was still together—before my father lost his job and turned to the bottle for relief. He was a mean drunk and when he wasn’t slapping my mother around, he was turning his anger on my brothers and me. When I got old enough to stand up to him, he left and didn’t come back. Being the only one that could support my family was hard, and that pushed me towards crime. Things were going well until I got pinched for holding up a liquor store and spent most of my twenties behind bars. My mother passed away while I was locked up and by the time I got out, my brothers had moved on with their lives. I was a part of the memories they wanted to leave behind.