Vegas Virgin (Nevada Bad Boys 1)

“What?” I rolled over and put my hand on my head when I saw the daylight peeking through the curtains. “Shit—who in the hell thought it was a good idea to have a room with windows?”

“You’re a lousy drunk.” Fiona sighed. “I think you should reconsider college. You would be a natural at waking up every day with a hangover.”

“It hurts!” I pulled the pillow next to me over my face. “Wait, I don’t have anything to wear.”

“You can borrow a pair of my shorts. We’re practically the same size.” She plopped down on the bed and nudged me again.

“I still need a shirt...” My words came out in a mumble against the pillow.

“You’re kidding right? You don’t remember buying every t-shirt in the gift shop last night?” Fiona’s voice was sarcastic and she chuckled underneath her words.

“I did what?” I sat up and rubbed my eyes. “I don’t remember anything after the bar.”

“Yeah, we were headed back to the room, but you decided that the gift shop should be your own personal mall.” Fiona pointed to the chair near the bed which was piled with bags.

“My first drunken shopping spree—awesome.” I rolled over and put my feet on the floor.

“Get showered, come on!” Fiona pushed my shoulder with her hand.

“I just want to stay here and stare at the darkness.” I pulled the pillow back over my eyes.

“Peoria, come on!” She nudged me again.

“No.” I shook my head, grinding my face against the pillow. “I don’t want to go anywhere. I just want to sleep.”

“You’re serious?” Fiona’s tone had a bit of a bite to it. “Peoria!”

“I don’t want to go anywhere.” I groaned and rolled to the side, pulling the covers back over me.

“I’m not staying in the room all day. This is our fucking dream vacation.” She stood up off the bed.

“You go—I’m going to stay here.” I felt like I was melting into the bed as my mind accepted the fate I was offering it.

It was a mixture of depression over losing my stuff and the hangover from the wine that just sapped all desire out of me for anything but the bed that I was laying in. Fiona made a dramatic showing of throwing things around as she got ready, but when she figured out that I was serious, she left the room in a huff, slamming the door hard behind her. I drifted in and out of sleep for several hours, replaying the events of the previous day in my head.

Vegas wasn’t supposed to be complicated. It was supposed to be a dream come true. I finally had to get out of bed when I felt the urge to pee and as I sat on the toilet with my head throbbing, I remembered the bumper sticker on the back of the truck—Dixon’s Bar. It wasn’t much to go on, but it was the only thing I had. I didn’t expect the police to put much effort into finding my lost luggage and with Fiona gone, I really didn’t have anything else to do except wallow in misery and despair. With the last bit of energy I could muster, I fixed some cheap coffee and started the shower. An hour later, I was wearing a shirt that screamed tourist and sitting in the back of an Uber heading towards Dixon’s Bar.

“Y OU SURE YOU WANT ME to drop you off here?” The driver turned his head towards me and raised his eyebrows. “This isn’t really a tourist spot.”

“Yeah, this is it.” I flipped him a tip on my Uber app and exited the car.

Calling Dixon’s Bar a dump would have been kind. It was an awful looking building with a wooden sign hanging along the edge of the roof that looked like it had been there for twenty years. The driver sped off the second I was out of his car. My eyes quickly scanned the parking lot for a sign of the truck that I had seen, but none of them looked to be an exact match. I walked up to the door and pushed it open, finding exactly what I expected inside. The room was cloudy with smoke and it smelled like stale beer.

A few people turned to look at me when I entered, but they lost interest before the door was closed. Nobody really looked happy. It was only a little pa

st noon and several of them looked like they had been drinking for days without stopping. I walked up to the bar and sat down, waiting for the bartender to come over. He was a large man with tattoos covering his arms and long brown hair tucked behind his ears. It appeared that he was lost in conversation with two guys at the end of the bar, but after several minutes he finally walked over.

“Can I help you?” He leaned against the wood and stared at me.

“Yeah, I was hoping that you might be able to give me some information?” I looked at him with a little hope stirring inside me.

“Information? I serve drinks.” He motioned to the bar. “Liquor or beer, your choice.”

“Um. A beer I guess?” I reached into my wallet and pulled out a twenty-dollar bill.

“Coming right up.” He picked up a glass and started pouring amber liquid into it from the tap next to him.

“I’m looking for a guy—uh—he’s about six-five, lots of tattoos, dark brown hair.” I ran through the description of the guy I had seen take my bag.