AllFreeNovel
Share Us
"I was just heading over to a live table. Are you interested in joining me?" He stands, holding his arm out to me.
"Why the hell not?" Standing, I link my arm in his, making our way to the table games. "I'm Andrea, by the way."
"Nice to meet you, Andrea. I'm Carlos. How long are you in Vegas for?" he asks.
"I'm not sure. I was on my way to visit a friend, but we've lost touch." Carlos pulls my stool out for me at the table before sitting and moving his stool closer to mine. He walks me through the first few hands, reminding me to pay attention to the cards I've seen played.
We play cards and make small talk for the next few hours. Counting my chips, I realize I'm up over five hundred dollars and decide to end my lucky streak there.
"Do you have a room down here on Fremont or the strip?" he asks as we walk to the cashier.
"Oh my god. I'm sorry if I mislead you in any way, Carlos. I'm not looking for a hook-up tonight."
"Neither am I, but Vegas can be a rough place; I wanted to make sure you made it back to your room safely."
My face flushes with embarrassment. Look at me here, sticking my foot in my mouth. “I'm sorry, Carlos. I'm new at this single life and still get my signals crossed. I'm staying at an R.V. park a few miles up the road."
"I get it. I'm new to the dating scene also. Are you interested in sharing some drinks with me? We could walk Fremont Street, listen to the eighties cover band, and check out some street performers?"
"Thanks. Sounds like fun" After Carlos walks to the bar, I check my phone to see if there has been anything from Daniel. No calls, and the status of my text is unchanged.
I entered the Golden Nugget just before sundown, and Fremont Street looked no different to me than any other street in Vegas. But, now, close to midnight, this is a different place. I have almost naked nuns to my right, and on my left, there is a man in a thong, poorly playing the guitar.
"Crazy, huh?" Carlos comes back, handing me a blue slushy drink.
"And I thought the street performers in San Francisco were outrageous." I laugh, taking a huge sip of my drink.
"Come on. Let's go dance." He grabs my hand and pulls me toward the stage. We dance and drink until exhaustion hits me like a ton of bricks. Within seconds, I can no longer hold my eyes open; my legs feel like jello. I grab on to Carlos' jacket before collapsing and hitting the ground.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Andrea
My eyes burn as I try to open them; my throat is dry and scratchy. My head pounds to the beats of a thousand drums, and my body feels too heavy to move. I do a quick check of my hands and feet, moving everything as I stretch. Thinking backwards, the last thing I remember is being on Fremont Street.
My stomach twists with a rush of nausea.
I don’t remember getting home. I force my eyes open and scan my surroundings.
"Oh, thank God," I whisper. Somehow, I ended up back in my own R.V. Slowly, I roll over to see if Carlos is still here as my heart fills with dread. If I had a one-night stand with him, it’s time to get my ass back to Sonoma. This whole revival mission might not be for me. Really, what was so wrong with my comfortable, boring life? Maybe Ilikeboring.
The R.V. has been completely ransacked. I gasp as I take it all in, sitting up quickly to assess the situation. My heart beats frantically in my chest, and another wave of nausea pulses through me.
Drawers and cabinets are emptied and torn apart. My clothes and personal belongings are thrown from one end of the place to the other. My purse has been emptied onto the table. I quickly rise to my feet and rush to go through the spilled contents; the only thing missing is my phone. The cash and the credit cards are all still here.
After a few more minutes of looking through the chaos, the only other thing missing is my laptop.
Hurrying outside, I politely knock on the door of the R.V. parked next to mine and ask them to call the police.
"You know it will be hours until they get to you, right?" the older gentleman informs me.
"I was drugged, my R.V. was ransacked, and someone stole my devices. I'm sure they will make that a priority," I argue.
With a snort, he walks back into his R.V., then comes back and hands me two quarters. "There's a payphone at the main office," he grumbles. The door slams behind him, leaving me with my mouth open.
In the one-hundred-five-degree heat, I walk to the payphone and use the grumpy old man's quarters to place my call.
"Las Vegas P.D.," a woman answers.
