What Stays in Vegas Read Online Free Page A

time that passed, the more experience I gained as a secretary, making it harder for me to switch gears and look for a job in the art world.  By the time I was hired by Flamhauser-Geist I realized that I had become rather good at administrative assisting.  I was organized and efficient, I typed letters and made paperclip holders out of paperclips.  Maybe it wasn't so bad. 
    “That’s too bad," said Tooth Model.  "You seem like a smart girl."
    "Thanks," I said, giving him a genuinely appreciative smile.  Maybe he wasn't as sleazy as I thought.  Maybe -
    “So, you want to join the mile high club?”
    Maybe I was an excellent judge of character.
    I put an immediate end to the conversation by plugging in my headphones and turning my attention back to the movie that was getting increasingly worse.  That’s about when I fell asleep.  The thought that Tooth Model was trying to peer down my shirt was definitely a concern as I drifted off, but it was still better than letting that conversation continue for even another second.

- 4 -
     
    I woke with a jolt to the voice of the captain announcing our descent into Las Vegas.  Temperature:  Eighty-seven degrees.  Skies:  Sunny.  I sat up and looked over at Tooth Model who was trying to persuade the stewardess to bring him one more rum and Coke before we landed.  He flashed her his million dollar grin.  She didn’t stand a chance. 
    I leaned forward and looked out at the blue sky, my ears popping slightly.  Before I knew it, there was the Las Vegas strip, growing larger and larger every second.  There was the Luxor, the Bellagio, the Mirage, and way down at the end, the Stratosphere!   A light breeze on the back of my neck startled me and I banged my head into the glass.  I turned to find Tooth Model’s face about three inches away from mine.  The pervert had unbuckled his seat belt and was practically kneeling on the floor next to me.
    “That view gets me every time,” he said, letting out a creepy whistle. 
    “Sir, please , we need everybody in their seats with their seat belts on ,” said the stewardess.  She handed him what was probably his fifth rum and Coke and hurried off to her own seat at the back of the plane.  Tooth Model swallowed the drink in two gulps.
    “You don’t get no reward for trying to be a friendly guy,” he muttered, fastening his seat belt.  He was pretty drunk and I wasn’t too sure what he was talking about, but it didn’t matter.  In a few minutes I would be off the plane, and I was starting to get nervous.
    I mentally planned out what I needed to do when I disembarked as this was the first time I had ever traveled alone.  The first thing was to get my luggage, and then pick up the rental car that Flamhauser-Geist had reserved for me.   Then came the worst part, finding my way to the Las Vegas Marriott Suites - my new home for the next three months.  Driving in the city terrifies me.  I have never once driven through Boston.  And now I was in Las Vegas where there would be beautiful people in sports cars and limousines honking at me to get the hell out of the way as I gripped the steering wheel of my un-cool rental sedan.  
    I filed off the plane, watching with delight as Tooth Model headed in the direction of the restrooms while I took off the opposite way toward baggage claim.  The airport was busy on a Saturday morning.  Smiling people just starting their vacations criss-crossed paths with glum looking people waiting to head back home.  I gloated to myself as I realized I had three whole months ahead of me before it would be my turn at the departure gate.  I tried not to look too smug as I followed the signs and dodged the crowds.  The sound of slot machines - slot machines at an airport! - rose above the sound of families shouting to each other, which rose above the sound of people shouting into their cell phones.  I felt a bit lonely, having nobody to shout at myself.  But I was soon distracted by the