Lexi

 

“Do you really think this is a good idea?” My best friend, Melanie’s, voice echoes through the phone.

I bend over my bed, looking for my luggage, and my hair falls into my face. Sighing, I blow the hair out of my eyes as I continue to talk with Melanie. “I’m going, Mel. I’ve had this trip planned since Christmas.” I throw the luggage on the bed, unzipping it. “Besides, I’m not losing my money.” I open my drawers, sifting through them for my bikini. “I’m going. I need to get away and just be free for a week. It’s not my fault that you can’t come. Besides, women do it all the time.”

“Yeah, they also get kidnapped and sold to men from other countries as sex slaves,” she tells me.

I laugh at her. “I think that only happens if your father is Liam Neeson, but it’s not a big deal because ‘he can find you.’”

“Joke all you want, but this shit is serious,” she says, crunching on whatever it is that she’s eating.

“I promise to not talk to anyone at the airport or give out any of my information. Besides, I’m staying at the Bellagio.” I walk to my closet and open it. Living in New York was a dream come true, but affording the rent is damn near impossible. So here I am in my one-and-a-half-room apartment. My living room and kitchenette are one small, shared space. I do have a stove, though that rarely gets used.

My closet is barely the size of a bathroom on a plane, which doesn’t help since I shop almost every day. In my defense, I have no choice. It’s my job. I’m a reporter for the lifestyle section for the New York Journal.

Even though my brother is very wealthy, I want to do this on my own.

“Lex, what if they follow you? Did you tell your brother?”

“Nope, and I’m not going to. Sterling has his own life to worry about. Besides, he warned me about Francesco. I was too lovestruck to see him for the douche that he was.”

Francesco was my newly appointed ex-boyfriend. I should have known something was up when he would be out of touch for long periods of time. Imagine my surprise when my phone rang with a call from him only for it to be his wife.

“He had a wife, Mel, a legit wife,” I tell her while I pack my sexiest lingerie. Actually all my lingerie is sexy. There is just something about wearing lace and silk that makes a girl feel powerful, confident, sexy. “What if they have kids?” I throw more things into the luggage.

“You didn’t know. It’s not like you went looking for a married man,” Melanie reassures me, and I know I didn’t.

I kept running into him at Starbucks in the morning. We just started talking one day and then exchanged numbers. He was a stock broker on Wall Street. He used to blame the market on why he could never stay out late.

I shake my head at my stupidity. The signs were all there, but I was just so into him that I didn’t see them.

“Which is why I’m going to Vegas. I’m going to go and have a great time. Maybe I’ll meet a guy. Who knows? It’s Vegas.” I zip up my bag. “You know what they say—what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas. So maybe something will happen, or maybe it won’t. Either way, I’m going.”

“Except STDs, Lex. Those bitches follow you home from Vegas, so be careful,” Melanie warns, and I’m sure she’s sitting there nodding her head while saying it.

“I’m not going to catch an STD. I’m bringing condoms. I’m not that stupid,” I tell her. “Okay, I have to go and order my Uber or I’ll miss my flight.”

“All right, but promise you’ll text me when you get there, and then again when you get into your room. Is your Find My Phone app on?”

“Yes, Mom.” I laugh at her. “I’ll text you the minute I land.”

“Fly safe,” she says, then I hear beeps, letting me know she hung up.

I open the Uber app and place my order. I look down at my feet. “Shit, I forgot my shoes,” I yell, running back to my closet door. My shoe rack is the whole door, front and back. It’s also on the bathroom door as well. I grab a couple pairs—okay, seven pairs—and throw them into the bag I just zipped up.

I’m lacing up my black Chucks just as the Uber driver calls to tell me he’s here. I grab my black jacket as I walk out the door, dragging my luggage behind me.

I’m still dressed in black, skin-tight jeans and a white tight tank top. Silver necklaces hang from my neck. By the time I make it downstairs, the ever-present honking of vehicles that is the soundtrack of New York City makes me smile. I wave at the little red Toyota, letting him know I’m here. I throw my luggage into the car first before I follow it in. “Sorry,” I say, pulling the door shut as he bolts into traffic.

I take out my phone to send a quick text to Sterling.

See you next week.

He texts me back right away, never making me wait long.

Dinner at our place. Be safe. Let me know if you need anything.

I respond back with a smiley face. I open Facebook next and mindlessly start to scroll my newsfeed. When I get bored with that, I switch over to Instagram. Taking a picture of the Empire State Building, I put a caption on it with “My heart is in New York, but my body is on the way to Vegas!” As soon as I post it, I put my phone away. Taking in the traffic around us, I sit back and think about what I’m going to do in Vegas by myself.

We make it to LaGuardia in record time, especially considering it’s almost rush hour. I pull my bag along with me while I wait to check in, and by the time I check my bag, I have my boarding pass all ready. First class. At least I’m going in style.

I check when boarding will start and walk right into the hard wall of a male chest, dropping my purse on the floor and spilling its contents in the process. “I’m so, so sorry,” I say as I quickly grab my things before they can roll away. I look up at the man I just collided with. I blink in stunned silence as I take in the first man to break my heart. Bradley fucking Fitch.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t Little Lexi,” he says in that damn British accent I’ve never been able to forget.