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"A little." She gave a shaky laugh. "I thought it was the groom who was supposed to get cold feet."
"I planned ahead and wore thermal socks."
"Oh, you— " She chuckled with real humor, and playfully swatted at his arm.
He pulled off the highway, and onto Tropicana Boulevard. Rebecca leaned forward in her seat and scanned the darkened streets.
"I thought there'd be more lights."
"Don't worry. There will be." A quick left and a right looped them around the airport, bringing them out almost at the end of Las Vegas Boulevard. Before them stretched a shimmering vista of rainbow hued light.
"Look! It's a pyramid! And a castle!" Rebecca leaned past him to gawk, then spun to look out her window with a giggle. "A Polynesian village. Oh, look at that gate, made out of light. It's beautiful! Is that another pyramid?"
He kept silent, letting her enjoy her first sight of the hotels and casinos. He'd been here twice before, and each time it seemed to get larger, louder and brighter. After a lifetime spent trying to avoid notice, such blatant plays for attention made him uncomfortable. But he had to agree, in its own way, the city was truly amazing.
"It's a lion!" Rebecca laughed and squeezed his arm. "What's next?"
"What's next is a traffic jam," he muttered.
After spending fifteen minutes watching the same ads scroll by in foot high letters on ten-foot tall screens, the city's lights no longer seemed so glamorous. In fact, Desmond and Rebecca made a game out of finding the missing light bulbs in the signs, with Desmond looking for missing red bulbs and Rebecca looking for blue ones. Green bulbs counted for either one of them.
"Finally," he sighed, turning across traffic into the hotel's driveway. The backlit Roman statues and lighted water fountain would have been garish in any other surroundings. Here, it seemed tasteful and subdued.
He helped Rebecca out of the car, while a bellman emptied the trunk and an eager looking valet held out his hand for the keys. The fresh-faced boy looked out of place, as if a Mormon native of Utah had migrated southwest for the winter and had been unable to complete his return trip in the spring. Desmond handed him the keys wrapped in a ten dollar tip.
The bellman advanced on them with a smile. "Welcome to Las Vegas. Are you here to get married?"
"Yes," Rebecca answered. "How'd you know?"
"You had that look about you. When's the happy occasion?"
"Two o'clock in the morning," Desmond told him, nudging Rebecca toward the door. "We really need to get checked in."
"Congratulations! If there's anything you need, you just call down to the front desk. Or I can bring it up to your room with your luggage." The man's grin widened.
"Actually," Rebecca said, "we need to find a jewelry store that's open."
"You're in luck! Our Forum Shops stay open until eleven o'clock, and we have some wonderful jewelers. If you'd like, I can point them out to you on the map."
"Thank you. That won't be necessary." Desmond pulled Rebecca through the doors into the blinking, flashing, clanging foyer. Slot machines jangled their happy melodies and poured change into steel buckets, all the while advertising their wares in colors as bright as they'd seen on the Strip. The registration area off to the side was slightly more subdued, but the cling and clang of winning spins provided a constant background accompaniment.
"Welcome to Caesar's Palace. May I help you?"
"We're checking in. The name is Lacroix." Desmond placed his credit card on the marble counter.
"That says Prescott Institute," Rebecca whispered.
"It's a corporate card. I don't have a personal one."
She nodded to herself. It was almost as if he'd just confirmed something for her, but he didn't know what. Why would she care about his credit cards? Of course. Not his credit cards, his credit.
He grinned. "You little minx. You tried to run a credit check on me before you came out here, didn't you?"
"You can't blame a girl for being careful," she tossed back.
The clerk shuffled slowly through a pile of papers. When Desmond and Rebecca didn't say anything else scintillating, the woman handed them a hotel folder.
"These are your room keys. Instructions are on the back." She slid one of the plastic cards out of the folder and flipped it over, then tapped the circled number on the folder. "This is your room number. Memorize it, don't write it on the card or on a piece of paper you carry with the card. Your room is in the Olympic Tower, straight through the casino. You see the Emperor's Club booth? Head for that. The elevators will be on your left. The bellman will bring your luggage up."
