“It is definitely looking up. Maybe I’ve still got time to catch one of the tours so my day won’t be a total waste.” She wrapped her hand around the handle and it lightly grazed mine.
“You’re not paying someone to show you a bunch of landmarks are you?” I chuckled. “They don’t even show you the good stuff.”
“Well I got to see Dixon’s Bar and this... apartment complex for free—or forty bucks, depending in your perspective.” She turned away from me. “Thank you for giving me this stuff back. I guess I should be on my way.”
“Wait...” I followed her down the steps. “Why don’t we consider that forty dollars to be a down payment on a real tour of Las Vegas. Let me show you around.”
“Um.” She looked back towards me. “I’m not really sure I should trust you.”
“Come on.” I tilted my head and smiled. “I’ll show you where the bodies are buried.”
“That doesn’t inspire confidence.” She raised her eyebrows.
“It’ll be better than any of those commercial tours, I promise you.” I took a step back. “Let me grab my keys.”
“Fine...” She shook her head and sighed. “I guess you do owe me one.”
“What is your name anyway?” I put a foot on the steps. “Obviously you know my name is Vincent.”
“Peoria.” She smiled. “Nice to meet you.”
Peoria’s her name—okay, that's why it was in all those pictures.
Chapter 7: Peoria
T here was no reason for me to stay behind when Vincent went into his apartment. I didn’t have all my stuff, but I had enough to make a clean getaway without a bit of remorse. The forty dollars I gave him was nothing compared to the lifetime of memories I had gotten back. I had a chance to turn my vacation around and I was actually starting to feel excited about Vegas again. Fiona hadn’t responded to any of my text messages since I finally got out of bed which was a sign she was still angry at me. I sent her another one to let her know I had my stuff back—or most of it—but there was another round of silence from her end. I wasn’t sure Vincent was trustworthy. For all I knew, I would be joining all the bodies buried in the desert before his supposed tour was done.
There was something about him though—some glimmer of kindness behind the tough exterior that was covered in tattoos. He was also hot-as-sin, despite being an asshole. Everyone seemed to have a Vegas story, and I wasn’t sure any of them would top mine. Before my brain could rationalize whether I should just leave or not, Vincent appeared at the door again with a set of keys in his hand.
“Ready to see the real Vegas?” He reached for my luggage when he got close to me.
“I think I’ll just hang onto this.” I pulled the handle away from him.
“Suit yourself. Come on.” He motioned for me to follow and we started walking towards his truck.
I finally relented to letting Vincent put his hands on my luggage again when we got to his truck, but I kept my camera firmly around my neck and clutched in both hands. Before I could open the passenger side door, he opened it for me and helped me climb inside. I leaned back against the seat and looked out the window as he started to drive.
Trusting him seemed like a dangerous thing to do, but there was something that attracted me to him. I had no way to explain it, but after being so emotionally drained from losing my stuff and having Fiona ignore me, I liked the simplicity of sitting in the passenger seat and listening to him describe each landmark we approached. His voice was smooth and sexy with a bit of a rasp that accentuated the inflection he put in each description. I could have listened to him talk all day, but after a couple of hours passed, I found my eyes drifting towards my left to look at him more than I was looking at the sights he pointed out. He caught my stare a couple of times and smirked when I shifted my eyes back towards the window.
“How about some lunch?” He pointed up ahead to a building that didn’t look like it was in much better shape than Dixon’s Bar.
“That place looks like it serves salmonella.” I raised my eyebrows in concern as he turned his truck into the parking lot.
“What?” He chuckled and his voice immediately shifted to the same silly tone he used to describe most of the landmarks we passed. “This is the world-famous Newton Burgers—Elvis used to eat here every time he visited Las Vegas. They even have a picture to prove that their burgers are worthy of the King.”
“That sounds suspect—and it doesn’t look like they’ve painted the place since Elvis ate here.” I stared at the building as the truck rolled into a parking space.
“Trust me—best food in town.” He exited the truck and walked around to open my door.
The building might have been run down, but when I nervously bit into cheeseburger, I no longer doubted that it was a good place to eat. The burger was amazing, freshly grilled with a hint of hickory smoke that reminded me of the burgers my father cooked at home. He wasn’t lying about the quality of the food at least.
Vincent had a beer with his meal, but I decided to just go with a soda. The beer I had at Dixon’s Bar wasn’t my favorite and I was pretty sure my future experiments with alcohol would remain in the wine category. We made small talk as we ate and shared a few stories from our lives. Vincent seemed to have lived a rough life, which wasn’t anything like mine. The toughest choice I had to make was whether to go straight to college or get a job—I had chosen the latter but I was still holding out hope for college one day.
Vincent was a lot nicer than I had originally expected and when he took my hand to help me back into the truck, I felt a tingle. My hand lingered in his and our eyes met for a moment before he finally pushed the door closed. I had never felt that kind of attraction before and I didn’t even know how to deal with it.
“So what else do you have to show me?” I looked over at him as he climbed into the truck. “I haven’t seen any bodies yet.”
“I told you—they’re buried.” He chuckled and started the engine again. “We already passed plenty of them.”