What Happens in Vegas...

My stomach was still doing flip-flops from the plane ride. When I glanced in the gold-framed hotel room mirror, I swore my complexion still had a green tint to it. There had been enough turbulence during the flight to qualify me for the space program, and it was the first time I had ever used those little flight bags for air sickness. In my defense, nearly everyone on the flight had tossed their cookies, and I felt a great deal of sympathy for the flight attendants who had to collect all those bags. Ick!

“Are you sure you feel alright, Hannah?” Patricia asked during our brief phone call.

“By the time you and your sisters get here, I will have recovered,” I assured her. “All I need is a good night's sleep. I’m planning to turn in early.”

Patricia and her two sisters were due in Las Vegas late tomorrow for the bachelorette party of the century. I had arrived a day early because I needed a break from work to recharge my enthusiasm before the planned weekend filled with shows, bar hopping, and bad behavior. I was her best friend and maid of honor, and the last thing I wanted to do was rain on her parade. Even if I was a little jealous that Patricia had found the love of her life.

We had been best friends since kindergarten, and neither of us had ever done anything remotely crazy. Las Vegas would be a great way to spend the last weekend before she got hitched. Brad was a great guy, but he was also the biggest dullard I’d ever met, and I felt that Patricia should experience some madcap behavior before she settled into married life. Although I was no judge of wild since my idea of throwing caution to the wind was take-out and Netflix.

“See you tomorrow,” I responded before she had a chance to drag our conversation out further.

Ending the call, I unpacked my suitcase and paced the floor of my room like a caged cheetah. Sighing deeply, I looked at my watch and frowned. It was hours before bedtime, and I had forgotten to pack a book, so I checked out the movie choices on pay-per-view. Nada.

Tossing and turning on the bed, I knew that sleep wouldn’t arrive anytime soon, so I decided to venture into the lobby to people-watch. Not being much of a gambler, casinos didn’t hold any particular draw for me, and I didn’t have any tickets for shows until tomorrow, so I sat on the overstuffed pink circular sofa and jiggled my foot for about five minutes until I couldn’t stand it anymore. Who was I kidding? I didn’t like to sit still and do nothing.

Stepping outside, I drew in the night air and felt a sense of mischief overtake me. I was on my own in Vegas! My friends were always talking about their trips here and how they participated in adventures that they would never divulge the details of. It occurred to me that I could have my own secret journey instead of making something up.

The uniformed doorman held the door for me, and at the base of the broad staircase that was big enough to support the entire cast of Stomp, I spotted my target. A lone taxicab sat there as if waiting for me. It wasn’t a pumpkin coach pulled by four white horses, but it would do in a pinch. With an inward giggle, I descended the stairs and hopped into the back seat.

“Hey, lady,” the driver exclaimed, “this cab is taken.” He looked surprised and exceedingly annoyed as I closed the back door.

“Your light’s not on,” I insisted. “What do you suggest for a gal’s first night here on the town?” Stubbornness set in, and I was determined that this cabbie wasn’t going to brush me off—there wasn’t another cab in sight.

“I suggest you get outta my cab!”

Was it my imagination, or did the cabbie look nervous? Opening my mouth to respond, I wasn’t able to utter a single syllable of my objection before both rear doors and the front passenger door opened and closed quickly as three men jumped into my cab, trapping me in the middle of the backseat.

“Go, go, go!” The new man in the front seat exclaimed.

As we pulled away, I could see security guards race down those stairs, shouting and pointing their guns. I struggled for breath, realizing I had just become an accessory to a crime.

Alarmed, I took another look at my fellow passengers and found that I was sharing my cab with Jason Vorhees, Michael Myers, and Hannibal Lecter.

“Hey, who’s the broad?” Hannibal asked from the front seat. His sparkling blue eyes momentarily distracted me from the restraint mask he wore, but when my gaze settled upon it, I wondered if he really was a cannibal.

Eeep! I was in big trouble!

“Some crazy chick that crawled in here looking for an adventure,” the driver replied. “Tourists!”

“Looks like she got her wish,” Jason said, amusement filling his tone.

“Always be careful what you wish for, honey,” Hannibal lectured with a suggestive wink while all of them chuckled in agreement. Turning toward the driver, Hannibal added, “She’s kinda cute, Lenny.”

My mouth was open as I looked from one to another, my eyes wide with fear. It was then that I noticed each of them carried a burlap bag with rather large bills poking out of the top. They had just robbed the casino!

A few sharp turns that made Jason and Michael lean into me nearly stopped my heart, but soon, we were in a sea of cabs with no police sirens or flashing lights to be seen. Even behind their masks, I could tell they were smiling.

“We did it!” Jason cheered.

“Alright, man!” Michael said in agreement.

Hannibal was oddly silent. His eyes were filled with curiosity and trained on me, creating a spark that made my stomach flutter as if bursting with butterflies. Perhaps it was the adrenaline? He remained quiet, his head tilted like a trusty cocker spaniel, and my only hope was that Hannibal wasn’t trying to figure out if I tasted better with a zinfandel or a nice chianti.

“We have to stop and get Trixie,” Jason tittered. “She’ll never believe we pulled it off.”

Lenny stopped the cab outside of the Fremont, where, I assumed, we were picking up the aforementioned Trixie. Hannibal opened the front door and held it while a somewhat oversized woman tottered over in her five-inch spike heels. If she weighed less than 300 pounds, I would have been surprised.

Dressed in a flouncy bubblegum pink poodle outfit, Trixie had long fake pink eyelashes that sported shiny rhinestones and the most adorable five o’clock shadow I’d ever seen. Really, you could have lit a match with that! Trixie was most definitely a man. This night just couldn’t get any weirder, could it?

“I’d be happy to get out here and make room for your friend,” I offered, plastering the most sincere smile I could muster, considering the circumstances.

“Oh, no,” Hannibal insisted. “Trixie is going to want to party with you. We have a whole evening planned!”

Oh goody!

Leaning over and peering into the cab, Trixie had a parade of looks cross her face. Apparently, she settled on amusement because she appeared to bite her lower lip to keep herself from laughing out loud. Trixie had a glow of mischief about her, and despite being in a precarious position, I couldn’t help but smile back at her.

“You guys didn’t kidnap her, did you?” Trixie said in an accusatory, baritone voice. Jerking her head in my direction, she asked, “Where are you from, honey?”

“Ch-chicago,” I stuttered, sounding like a little mouse.

“We need to celebrate,” Trixie announced, then tsk-tsked. “You boys need to take those masks off. They won’t fit in where we’re going tonight.”

Trying not to look at their faces, I focused on the floor of the cab. Still sandwiched between Michael and Jason, we all had to scoot over so Hannibal could join us in the back seat. To say it was cozy was an understatement, and darn it if Hannibal didn’t smell good. I was surprised that I hadn’t noticed it before. He smelled like sandalwood and vanilla, and for some reason, it felt reassuring.

“Listen, you can just drop me off, and I’ll find another cab back to the Bellagio,” I offered. “I wouldn’t want to intrude.”

“Nonsense, um…what’s your name, honey?” Trixie asked, flashing her long, bejeweled lashes.

“Hannah.” Why had I given them my real name? I couldn’t help it. I rolled my eyes, feeling stupid.

“Hannah,” Trixie repeated in her deep, low voice. “We’ve come into some good fortune tonight and would like to share it with you. It’s the least we can do after dragging you into our little plan.”

I’d be happier if they would let me out at the next corner. Right now, I was grateful that they hadn’t already killed me and tossed me out in the gutter after stumbling into their crime spree. My forced grimace made Trixie scowl.

Panicking, I tried to come up with something to placate her, but nothing came to mind, and my expression went from discomfort to blankness.

Trixie furrowed her brow and gave the others a dirty look. “Did you scare her?” she said in an accusatory tone.

“No, they didn’t,” I piped up in their defense. Where did that come from?

You could have heard a pin drop inside that cab, and then they all burst out laughing. Not wanting to feel left out, I added a nervous titter of my own. The little voice inside my head told me to beware of charming people because they are probably serial killers.

“We’re here,” Lenny declared, putting the cab in park and turning off the engine.

“Oh, goodie,” Trixie squealed in delight, clapping her man hands together in a completely feminine way. “Le Cabaret!”

Parking the cab, Lenny and Trixie led the way while I was escorted by my killer entourage. They had removed their masks, but I couldn’t summon the courage to look at them. Without their disguises, I could identify them, and that put me in greater danger than I already was. At the door, each of us flashed our IDs and received a stamp on the back of our hands that resembled a single note of music. I tried to remember the universal gesture for help I’ve been kidnapped by homicidal maniacs, but nothing came to mind.

Inside, the tunes were loud, and the spotlight bathed the stage in a large full moon. It amazed me that Trixie wasted no time joining the karaoke contest that was already underway. The theatre went dark, and a bright spotlight surrounded my new acquaintance. I heard the familiar opening of Sweet Transvestite from The Rocky Horror Picture Show. I had to admit that for a big woman, Trixie was pretty darned graceful. I found myself singing along, and in the end, everyone applauded and cheered when she was finished.

Trixie took a deep, graceful curtsy with her right forefinger tucked under her chin. She placed both hands over her mouth and blew kisses to the audience before joining us at the table. Breathing hard from the exhilaration, she had the proudest smile on her face.

“That was fantastic,” I said, complimenting her, finding that I really meant it.

Our waitress set down a bunch of shots, and I scrutinized mine, staring at it as though I’d been handed a cup of cyanide. No one had the opportunity to drop anything in them, and they were acting jubilant, not dangerous.

“Those are Trixie’s favorites,” ex-Hannibal mentioned. He might have taken the mask off, but he still had those entrancing eyes that practically danced every time he looked at me. He was handsome. That surprised me, but I supposed not every criminal looked like a regeneration of Al Capone.

“What are they?” I asked suspiciously, tentatively trying to smell the contents.

“Washington apple, darling,” Trixie supplied. “Crown Royal, Sour Apple Schnapps, and cranberry juice.”

Tentatively, I sipped the contents. All their eyes were on me as if hanging on my approval before downing their shot.

“It’s really quite good,” I admitted, smacking my lips. Ex-Hannibal smiled, and I felt my heart melt. Except for the whole robbery thing, this was kind of a fun adventure. Don’t get me wrong, it was still a peculiar turn of events, but you know—when life hands you lemons!

It was four against one, so my odds of escaping were nil. A few shots later, I had tossed all caution to the wind and figured if I was going to go out with a bang, I might as well enjoy myself.

When ex-Hannibal held his hand out to lure me to the dance floor, I hesitated. What was I thinking? But the man could tango!

“C’mon,” he said, adding a seductive wink.

Ex-Hannibal was super good-looking, but then, so are a lot of serial killers. And don’t forget charming. Was I in the clutches of the next Casanova Killer?

 Throwing all caution to the wind, I danced with ex-Hannibal and learned that his name was Mitch. If I could only forget how we met and what he was guilty of. It only took moments to realize that this man could easily be my soulmate.

Mitch was anything but dull, and I couldn’t tear my eyes away from his. I was beginning to understand how people could fall under the spell of their captors. Not only was I succumbing to the throes of Stockholm syndrome, I was enjoying it!

Back at our table, Trixie tapped me on the shoulder to gain my attention.

“I think Mitch likes you,” she whispered behind her oversized hand.

This time, when I giggled, it was like a little girl smitten with her first love. I wrapped my arm around his and gave it a loving squeeze.

Shortly after that, I kissed him. It was deep and sensual. I’d never kissed anyone like that before, and I could feel a fire burning inside. I never wanted it to end. That heat was the last thing I remembered until I woke up in my hotel room.

Lying there with the blackout curtains drawn, I stretched and yawned. My arm hurt, but maybe I had slept on it funny?

“What a wild dream,” I muttered. When I tried to sit up, that’s when the headache set in, along with all the other symptoms of the flu or a massive hangover.

“Oh no,” I whispered. “I probably caught a virus!”

That’s when I felt the gauze bandage on my upper right arm. When I touched it, the tenderness shot through me like a hot poker. Grabbing my head with my good arm, I ambled over to the curtains and pulled them over to a glorious sunny morning. Recoiling from the sunshine like a vampire avoiding turning to ash, I hopped back into bed until I could sleep off whatever bug I had picked up. When I awoke later, the clock on my bedside table told me that Patricia and her sisters were due to check in within the hour.

Smacking my lips, I felt dehydrated and cringed when I heard a door slam from across the hall. The sound reverberated in my skull like a jackhammer. I couldn’t possibly have a hangover because I hardly ever drank. Turning too fast, I felt the room spin, and my heart began to pound in my ears.

There was something discarded on my floor, and I slowly made my way over to see what it was.

Picking the object up, I turned it over, and I frowned, unable to recall what it was or where I’d seen it before. Then I remembered the film Silence of the Lambs and the mask that Hannibal Lecter wore. My eyes were wide open now!

The floodgates opened, and I started to remember snippets of my previous evening. But that was a dream, right? That couldn’t have actually happened!

Daring to peek underneath the bandage, I hesitated. What would I find beneath it? It felt as though a patch of skin had been removed, and I was concerned that Hannibal might have taken a bite out of me after all.

Flinching as I removed my gauze pad, my mouth fell open. When the hell had I gotten a tattoo?! It was deep red, heart-shaped, with two daggers piercing it in at the top and bottom. Flames poured out of the top like a raging inferno, and it contained one word. Mitch.

Who the hell is Mitch?

Gasping, I recalled looking into intense blue eyes, but surely that was a movie I watched. How was it possible to get a tattoo when I was in my room all night? Wasn’t I?

Patricia and her sisters refused to be denied our first night out despite my protests. I wore long sleeves and dark glasses when I joined them at the blackjack table. They didn’t look particularly convinced when I told them I was sick.

Glancing at my cards, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was being watched. Casually, I looked around the room until I had convinced myself that no one cared I was there.

“How many cards, miss?” the dealer asked.

Every cell in my body froze. I knew that voice. Slowly, I gathered my courage to glance at the person across the table from us. Who could resist those sparkling blue eyes and his movie star features? When he winked at me, I felt a broad smile cross my face.

Ignoring the strange stare that Patricia gave me, I shrugged innocently.

What happens in Vegas…who knows if it will stay there? I couldn’t wait to find out.