From now until then, there was not much I could do but get some rest and think about how I could actually help Alex once I finally arrived in Vegas.

I had my head firmly pushed against the window as the plane took off. I half-watched the stewardesses running through their mime routine of safety procedures, but my mind was not in the mood for paying much attention. All I could see was a person standing with a life vest around their neck and pretending to blow up the vest manually.

They must have done it a thousand times before, and what better place to do something on auto-pilot than on a plane.

We finally take off, and I watch paradise vanish as the plane climbs and turns. The sky is turning a dark orange as it climbs. I spend the next ten to fifteen minutes trying to do the obligatory thing; trying to get comfortable for the few hours that my ass would be firmly planted in a seat that is nearly impossible to get comfortable in. I do what any person would do in that situation. I drift off to sleep.

It is only when the “Bing, bing” of the fasten seatbelts sound comes on that I wake. We are coming in to land at Miami. I finally have a chance to stretch my legs as we change planes.

Like cattle, we are herded to the next gate and join the other passengers who are also making this leg of the flight. I can see the view outside is nowhere near as nice as the view from my hotel room.

For one thing, there is no Alex to come walking around the corner to send shivers of anticipation through my body. All I can see are guys wearing yellow fluorescent vests, shoving suitcases back onto the cart where they had fallen off.

Just another five hours to go and I would be in Vegas, just before dinner. I sit in the departure lounge and wait for the opportunity to board. I text Bell before I have to turn off my cell phone again. I message her and tell her of the delays, and ask if she can meet me at the airport by the time we finally arrive.

We slowly march down the ramp. Everyone is walking holding their boarding cards ready, it is slow going and I am becoming impatient.

A window seat again. This time though, the seat is nowhere near as comfortable. Short-haul flights are like cattle trucks compared to long haul flights.

With no delays with this flight, we manage to depart on time. I feel lucky, there are no passengers in my row, so I do the best I can and curl up in a ball and cover the three seats.

I wished I had taken the blanket from the first flight, that would have been nice, but my jacket would have to do. The only problem was, it is nowhere big enough to cover my feet, and my shoulders… no matter how small I curl up.

This is not a flight you sleep on, so I just close my eyes and think of a plan, well, it isn’t really a plan. I have no idea what I am going to do apart from meet Bell.

What happens if she is not there to meet me, then what do I do?

I hadn’t thought of that, and now I have a few hours to think about it. I would have to find a hotel and then (somehow) come up with an idea of what I was going to do.

How do you find a gambling addict in the middle of Las Vegas? The place is full of them. There is no way I could just walk around all of the casinos hoping to find some trail of Alex, or someone who knows him. That would be nearly impossible, and if I asked around, it would become obvious, to whoever the guys are that shoved Alex into the car. Obvious I was looking for him.

The plane levels at cruising altitude. I wasn’t sure being any higher up than being on the ground helped, but I rubbed my silver cross and prayed. Does an extra thirty-six thousand feet make a difference when you are praying?

The plane finally lands. This time I had avoided cramp. I waited for all the eager travelers to grab their things and then I join the line of people to get off the plane.

The immigration desk gets closer. Nothing to declare, or things to declare. I laugh at my thought, does a huge crush on Alex count as something to declare?

I walk past the conveyor belt; the cases slowly appear from the hole in the wall. No case for me, just the backpack that was slung over my shoulder.

Now, I had to walk out of the gate and as Shona had said, “Look for the hottest girl with black jet hair I could see.”

I see a few guys holding cards with people names on, and I am sure that Bell will not be holding a card with my name on it. A hand suddenly falls on my shoulder. I turn, and I do a quick double-take. “Bell?” I ask

“Yeah, and you must be Brooke?” Bell says.

“How did you know it was me?” I ask.

“Shona told me to look for a hot girl with dark hair,” she says chuckling.

I start to laugh. “What is so funny?” Bell asks.

“That’s what she told me, too,” I reply.

“Shona also said, you needed some help to try and find your boyfriend,” Bell says.

I am quite slow in answering the question. I am still thinking of how similar me and Bell would look from a distance. I suppose we could in a way, pass as sisters, apart from me having blue eyes and fuller lips, but body size and hair, we could do just that.

“Sorry, I was miles away. He is not actually my boyfriend,” I reply.

“Yeah, Shona mentioned that’s what you’d say.”

“Everyone keeps saying it, and I have only just met Alex.”

“Why have you come here to help him then?” Bell asks.

“Hmm, it seems like the right thing to do, will that pass as an answer?”

Bell shakes her head. “Not in the slightest.”

Bell turns to me as we make our way into the parking lot. “I guess you have nowhere to stay.”

I shake my head. “No, everything was a rush, not that it needed to be after all those delays,” I reply.

“You can stay with me, it’s not much, and we will have to share the bed,” Bell replies.

“That is fine with me. I just need to rest, for now, it’s been a grueling journey.”

“That I can understand, I much prefer traveling on land myself,” Bell says.

Bell leads me to her old Chevy, she bangs the passenger door and tugs on the handle. “I know it’s not much to look at, but it is reliable,” she says.

Bell starts the engine and makes the twenty-minute drive to a motel on the outskirts of town. “Lucky Aces… is everything in this town named after gambling?”

Bell laughs. “Almost.”

Bell opens the door to her motel room. It’s nothing like the main places on the strip, but it looks clean enough. Bell shows me around her humble abode.

“Bathroom is there, and tiny kitchen area is there, and as you can see, the bed and a table and chairs there. That’s it.”

“The fastest tour I’ve ever had,” I reply, obviously giggling.

“Well, it’s better than living on the streets, or living with a bike gang,” she replies.

“You can travel for a full day and find you are still no further forward.”