Las Vegas Layover Read Online Free Page B

the mahogany desk in her hotel room and replayed the message one last time.
    “Hey, it’s Sebastian. I know I said it would be easy to get away, but…” He trailed off for a second, and Clara could almost see his frown. He sounded genuinely disappointed, she’d give him that. “Look, just call me when you get this. You never said how long you’d be here. Maybe we could get together for drinks later. If I get this done. Fuck, I don’t know. Just call me.” That order was succeeded by his phone number.
    Clara tapped a button on the phone, killing the recording, and sat back in her chair. The room was overkill for one person. Mahogany nightstands flanked a king-sized bed bedecked with soft, gold linens. The matching dresser dominated another wall, topped with an enormous flat-screen television. Above the desk, a gilded mirror reflected the opulent scene and its sole inhabitant. The woman staring back at her had tears in her eyes. Odd. She hadn’t noticed until she saw them there in the spotless glass.
    Clara brushed her fingertips over the well-worn pages of Betty’s list where it sat on the desk. Smoothing the edges, she read through it one more time.
    Vegas, Baby!
    1st Start at one end of the Strip and walk into every hotel that strikes your fancy.
    2nd You are hereby ordered to buy no less than three extremely tacky souvenirs, one T-shirt I know you’ll never wear, and four magnets.
    3rd You will watch at least one show, but I’ll let you pick that.
    4th Throw away thirty dollars at a roulette table at Circus Circus, and plunk twenty dollars in quarters in the slots at Caesar’s Palace.
    5th You can dump the vial in the fountain at the Bellagio or the lake in front of the Mirage. I don’t care which, but do it at night while it’s all lit up.
    6th Enjoy yourself, baby. You deserve it.
    Clara had read Betty’s instructions a dozen times, but they still made her insides ache. She should’ve been here. This was her dream. But then, Betty had known how to use that to her advantage.
    Betty had always admonished her niece for what she affectionately referred to as Clara’s “stubborn refusal to live a little.” And as much as she hated to, Clara admitted Betty had a point. She’d focused her entire life around her aunt since the accident that had killed her parents and her brothers so she wouldn’t have to deal with her grief. Even when her college sweetheart made her choose between marrying him and caring for her only living relative, the choice was a simple one. Clara had thought she loved Dean, but who could love a man like that?
    She carefully refolded the pages and slipped them into her purse. She’d finished most of the items earlier, with the exception of spreading Betty’s ashes and catching a show. As for the ashes, she wanted to wait until later when the lights were bright but the streets weren’t as crowded. She’d put off seeing a show so she could squeeze in a trip to the mall across the street from her hotel.
    The tiny black dress the sales clerk had talked her into buying was certainly beautiful, but the price tag had nearly made her faint. She rationalized that she hadn’t bought new clothes, outside of the essential replacement of serviceable cotton underwear or socks, in the past few years, so she could afford the splurge. She even sprang for new lace panties and a matching bra. Now she wished she’d checked her messages before she ripped the damn tags off.
    Glancing at the clock on the nightstand, Clara groaned and stood in heels too high to be practical but which made her look less like a midget and started for the door. She wasn’t about to waste all the effort, not to mention this dress, by sulking in her room. Black clutch in hand, she brushed away the last of her tears, unbolted the door, and stepped out into the hall.
    Right into a raised fist.
    “What the hell?” she shouted, her free hand flying to her face.
    “Shit balls!” a masculine voice answered, tugging at the hand