Chapter One

Mirjam rubbed the tiredness from her eyes, but the caterpillar from Alice in Wonderland still occupied the Rivenbark Hotel & Casino elevator with her. She blinked and squinted. Yep. And life-size. Complete with hookah.

Plastic squeaked against glass as the caterpillar shifted to make more room. It made eye contact.

“Er, nice costume,” Mirjam ventured.

“Thanks,” came the muffled reply.

The elevator swooped to a stop on the mezzanine level. A pirate and a Ghostbuster stepped on and pushed the lobby button. Mirjam angled back to avoid being knocked over by the guy’s Proton Pack.

“Convention?” Mirjam asked the caterpillar and it rewarded her with a nod.

Mirjam groaned inwardly. She’d attended her share, but now, they reminded her too much of The Turd, otherwise known as Brian. Great. She wanted to go home but apparently, that was asking too much—a blizzard in Ann Arbor nixed her flight this morning. Next chance to get out—tomorrow.

The elevator dinged at the lobby, and she headed to the hotel bar. Maybe she could salvage the day by squeezing in some work.

“What can I get you?” The bartender sported a headband with gold, sparkly antennae in her pink, cropped hair.

Mirjam pulled out her laptop. “Sprite, please.” Only a few others populated the bar, too early for drinking. Though this was Vegas. Pink Hair Lady plopped down Mirjam’s drink, the stir stick topped by a wiggling green rubber alien.

“So, which convention is this?” Mirjam motioned to a couple of Spartans walking by, though they probably shouldn’t have chosen that look.

“It’s ConVegas—sci-fi, fantasy, pop culture, that kind of thing. Doesn’t start until tomorrow, but we always get some folks early. What brings you here?”

“AppExpo that ended last night.” Mirjam connected to the hotel’s free WiFi. Time to figure out what caused her new app to choke while compiling.

Pink Hair Lady cocked her hip, fist resting on the bone. “Lemme guess. You’re always working, aren’t you?” She slid a glass bowl of pistachios over. “This is Vegas. You should be out having fun.”

Fun. Pfft. No time for that. “My flight got canceled and the timing blows. Too much to do. I didn’t want to come, but my partner thought it might be good for business.”

“Was it?”

Mirjam shrugged and pulled up and scanned her code, hoping her fixed focus on the laptop would clue Chatty One to leave her alone.

“I’m Jenn, by the way.”

Mirjam peeked up and pasted on a smile. “Nice to meet you.” She tracked back to the code.

The bartender left to help another customer but returned her inquisitive butt a few minutes later. “So, Vegas at your feet and your nose is to the grindstone. This is truly what you wish to do with your unexpected free night?”

Mirjam gritted her teeth. If Jenn would stop pestering her, she might be able to figure out the rendering bug. “No. If I had my wish, I’d spend it having hot sex with the man of my dreams, but since that’s not going to happen…” she snapped.

The bartender’s eyes flashed for a second. Or had they literally flashed?

Mirjam shook her head. She really was tired. “Sorry. Don’t mind me.”

“No worries, I’ll leave you to your work.” Jenn smiled and strode to the other end of the bar.

No matter how long Mirjam stared at the code, the solution eluded her. Man, she could use a nap. She motioned to Jenn and settled her tab.

“Have fun in Vegas. Here,” Jenn fished in her back pocket, “try the slot machine on the corner there. On me.” She slid a dollar across the counter. “I hear one gets lucky with it.”

Mirjam tried to shove the bill back, but Jenn kept her hand in place, pinning the bill to the counter with a bright pink fingernail. “I insist.”

Oh, what would it hurt? “Okay, thanks. I will.”

She packed away her laptop and swung the bag over her shoulder. At the machine, she fed in the dollar and received three credits. Yank. Nothing. Yank. Nothing. Yank. Ding, ding, ding! Mirjam jumped back, a rotating red light atop the machine joining the cacophony.

Thunk.

What in the—

Mirjam peered into the output tray and scooped out a heavy-stock envelope with a pink wax seal, not the expected handful of chips one hopes for in Las Vegas. She flipped it over. Embossed on the front, her name—Mirjam Linna.

A chill skittered up her spine as she scanned for reality TV cameras. No one paid her any mind, so she turned and marched back into the bar.

A barrel-chested, blond guy wiped the counter, the picture of boredom.

“Is Jenn still on shift?”

The bartender stilled his hand, a frown on his face as he eyed her curiously. “Jenn who?”

“The bartender. Jenn.”

He shook his head and resumed wiping the bar. “No one here by that name.”

A faint buzzing noise filled her head. “She was just here.” Mirjam glanced around, but no pink hair in sight. “She served me a drink.”

He set his rag on the counter and faced her. “Lady, I’ve worked here all day. No one else.”

“She has pink, spiky hair.” Mirjam waved a hand over her head.

“Still doesn’t work here.” He nodded to a new arrival and moved to help the man.

Erg. What the hell was going on? She took a deep breath and headed for the bank of elevators. Face time with a pillow was definitely in order.

After sharing an elevator ride with three furries, Mirjam reached her room. She clunked her purse on her nightstand, plopped onto her bed, and stared at the ivory envelope. It was thick. She turned to the pillow. It was fluffy. Okay, mystery first, then snooze. She worked a pinkie nail under the wax seal and popped it free, seal intact. Did she imagine a soft sigh? Steeling herself, she pulled out the contents and unfolded the thick paper.

She scanned the old-fashioned type. And scanned it again. Gripping it tighter, she took a deep breath and read it thoroughly, sure she’d imagined the whole thing.

Nope, still the same. She threw it to the side and fell back on the bed. Had she entered La-La Land?

Apparently, her wish to “Jenn” had now been granted.

* * * *

“Are you crazy?” Mirjam asked her sister, Taina. She pulled her Android away from her ear and stared at it. Back at her ear, she continued, “You’re telling me I should go through with this? Meet some stranger for a blind date arranged by some chick I can’t prove exists?”

“What do you have to lose? It’s just a date, in a public place. You gotta get over Brian, and this sounds like the perfect solution. Wish I’d thought of it.”

“You are crazy.”

“Take the regular precautions. Maybe inform the hotel manager? You said it’s to take place at the hotel. I think this is exciting, Mirjam. I’d be all over that.”

“You’re married.”

“Well, yes, if I wasn’t married.” Mirjam could hear the ‘duh’ in her sister’s voice and imagine her eye roll.

“I don’t know, Taina. I think I’d rather take a nap.”

“God, I don’t know what I’m going to do with you. You know what? I’m co-opting this as my ‘intervention.’ I’m serious. If you don’t do this, I will set you up with everyone I know back home. Or concoct a more drastic scheme.”

Mirjam’s stomach bottomed out. “Like what?” Her sister could get creative. Too creative.

“If you do this, you won’t have to worry, will you? In fact, I think if things go well, you should sleep with him.”

“What?” Yes. Her sister belonged in Crazy Town.

“Hear me out. You’ll never see this guy again, so what do you have to lose? I think you need to relax and have fun. You’ve been working way too hard. Just be safe about it, okay?”

Mirjam groaned.

“Promise me you’ll think about it? Text me the details when you know more. Gotta run, bye!”

Click.

Mirjam tossed her phone aside and picked up the envelope. She ran a finger over the pink wax seal. Hard to make out the stamp used to seal it. She pulled it closer and squinted. A puff of smoke? Strange emblem. No clue there, only Jenn’s elegant signature at the bottom of the tantalizing, crazy-assed invitation.

She’d been granted a wish, of all things. A night with “the man of her dreams.”

Johnny Depp?

Pfft. What the hell? The whole situation was outrageous.

She stood and paced. She briskly scrubbed her scalp. Nuh-uh. Couldn’t do it.

Ice. Ice-gathering would give her a mission, a focus. She grabbed the ice bucket and her key card and walked down the hall to the snack alcove.

Ice cubes rocketed into the bucket, filling it all too quickly. Okay. Distraction mission accomplished.

She trudged back to the room, her sister’s advice ricocheting through her head. Tough to choose which filled her with more dread—following through with Jenn’s offer or what her sister might do if she didn’t.

A guy dressed as Indiana Jones brushed by her in the hallway. He nodded.

Brian. Her heart lurched. No, this guy had blond hair.

She jabbed the key card into the door slot with shaking fingers and stumbled inside.

Her sister had it right. She needed to get over The Turd. Before she could second-guess herself, she grabbed the little RSVP card, checked ‘Yes,’ the ink a jerky slash, and marched downstairs to leave it with the concierge as instructed.