W e got to the hotel and the mood was somber was checked in and put all of our stuff in the room. The city was lit up, but the glamour wasn’t there anymore. The camera contained so much of my life and I had never bothered to back it up. I just always took it for granted that I could plug it in and relive those memories again. Even the pictures from my birthday party were gone except for the ones that other people had taken. I took a moment to call my parents and tell them we made it safely. I didn’t tell them what actually happened because I didn’t want them to lecture me about why I shouldn’t have come to Vegas in the first place.

Fiona started unpacking—lucky her. I pulled the few items I had out of my carry-on bag and lined them up on my nightstand. I had my makeup, my laptop, and a few other various items. Fiona finished unpacking her bathroom back and then walked into main part of the room.

“Are you ready for that drink now?” She picked up our room keys and waved them at me.

“Yeah, I’m long past ready for that.” I nodded and stood up, taking my room key from her hand.

“At least the room is nice, even if it has been hell getting here.” She closed the door after we were both outside.

“I guess.” I nodded, and a sigh rushed from my lips as we walked to the elevator.

“I know it sucks losing your stuff, but this is everything we have dreamed of since we were kids. Remember when we used to make those flamenco dancer costumes? We even went as them once for Halloween!” Fiona punched the elevator and turned towards me with a grin on her face.

“Yeah.” Even in my somber mood, I couldn’t help but smile.

“I bet your parents regretted letting us watch Viva Las Vegas .” Fiona chuckled as she stepped into the elevator. “We became obsessed!”

“I guess they thought the era of Elvis corrupting the youth was over—they were wrong.” I grinned and punched the button to take us to the lobby.

“We should at least try to see an impersonator while we’re here.” She leaned against the wall. “I know it isn’t the same, but it might be fun.”

“We have to be the only millennials that even know who Elvis Presley is.” I moved to the back of the elevator next to Fiona when it stopped and other passengers got on.

“I guess we’re just cultured.” She nudged me with her elbow.

The elevator came to a stop in the lobby after picking up a few more passengers and we immediately started walking towards the bar. I didn’t wait for the bartender to ask for my identification when I ordered wine; I already had it out in his face before he could even say a word. I’m not even sure he would have checked it—he certainly didn’t ask Fiona. The glass of red wine was overpriced, at least based on what limited knowledge I had about prices, but it was damn good—so good that I immediately asked for a second glass when it was done. The buzz hit me pretty hard and I started getting really tired once it settled into my veins. My worries drifted away, and I just wanted to stay lost in that moment for the rest of our vacation. After the two glasses turned into a couple more, I was seeing double. Fiona ordered some food and I munched on some food from the gargantuan appetizer platter that was put in front of us before finally deciding it was time for bed.

“If I eat anything else, I will probably throw up—and if I drink anything else, the probably becomes definitely.” I put my hand on the table and started to stand.

“Yeah, we should head back to the room.” Fiona nodded and took my arm when I stumbled.

***

“P EORIA, GET UP. THE tour bus leaves in two hours.” I felt a nudging as I was yanked from the darkness of my dreamless slumber.

“What?” I rolled over and put my hand on my head when I saw the daylight peeking through the curtains. “Shit—who in the hell thought it was a good idea to have a room with windows?”

“You’re a lousy drunk.” Fiona sighed. “I think you should reconsider college. You would be a natural at waking up every day with a hangover.”

“It hurts!” I pulled the pillow next to me over my face. “Wait, I don’t have anything to wear.”

“You can borrow a pair of my shorts. We’re practically the same size.” She plopped down on the bed and nudged me again.

“I still need a shirt...” My words came out in a mumble against the pillow.

“You’re kidding right? You don’t remember buying every t-shirt in the gift shop last night?” Fiona’s voice was sarcastic and she chuckled underneath her words.

“I did what?” I sat up and rubbed my eyes. “I don’t remember anything after the bar.”

“Yeah, we were headed back to the room, but you decided that the gift shop should be your own personal mall.” Fiona pointed to the chair near the bed which was piled with bags.

“My first drunken shopping spree—awesome.” I rolled over and put my feet on the floor.

“Get showered, come on!” Fiona pushed my shoulder with her hand.

“I just want to stay here and stare at the darkness.” I pulled the pillow back over my eyes.

“Peoria, come on!” She nudged me again.

“No.” I shook my head, grinding my face against the pillow. “I don’t want to go anywhere. I just want to sleep.”

“You’re serious?” Fiona’s tone had a bit of a bite to it. “Peoria!”

“I don’t want to go anywhere.” I groaned and rolled to the side, pulling the covers back over me.

“I’m not staying in the room all day. This is our fucking dream vacation.” She stood up off the bed.

“You go—I’m going to stay here.” I felt like I was melting into the bed as my mind accepted the fate I was offering it.

It was a mixture of depression over losing my stuff and the hangover from the wine that just sapped all desire out of me for anything but the bed that I was laying in. Fiona made a dramatic showing of throwing things around as she got ready, but when she figured out that I was serious, she left the room in a huff, slamming the door hard behind her. I drifted in and out of sleep for several hours, replaying the events of the previous day in my head.

Vegas wasn’t supposed to be complicated. It was supposed to be a dream come true. I finally had to get out of bed when I felt the urge to pee and as I sat on the toilet with my head throbbing, I remembered the bumper sticker on the back of the truck—Dixon’s Bar. It wasn’t much to go on, but it was the only thing I had. I didn’t expect the police to put much effort into finding my lost luggage and with Fiona gone, I really didn’t have anything else to do except wallow in misery and despair. With the last bit of energy I could muster, I fixed some cheap coffee and started the shower. An hour later, I was wearing a shirt that screamed tourist and sitting in the back of an Uber heading towards Dixon’s Bar.

***

“Y OU SURE YOU WANT ME to drop you off here?” The driver turned his head towards me and raised his eyebrows. “This isn’t really a tourist spot.”

“Yeah, this is it.” I flipped him a tip on my Uber app and exited the car.

Calling Dixon’s Bar a dump would have been kind. It was an awful looking building with a wooden sign hanging along the edge of the roof that looked like it had been there for twenty years. The driver sped off the second I was out of his car. My eyes quickly scanned the parking lot for a sign of the truck that I had seen, but none of them looked to be an exact match. I walked up to the door and pushed it open, finding exactly what I expected inside. The room was cloudy with smoke and it smelled like stale beer.

A few people turned to look at me when I entered, but they lost interest before the door was closed. Nobody really looked happy. It was only a little past noon and several of them looked like they had been drinking for days without stopping. I walked up to the bar and sat down, waiting for the bartender to come over. He was a large man with tattoos covering his arms and long brown hair tucked behind his ears. It appeared that he was lost in conversation with two guys at the end of the bar, but after several minutes he finally walked over.

“Can I help you?” He leaned against the wood and stared at me.

“Yeah, I was hoping that you might be able to give me some information?” I looked at him with a little hope stirring inside me.

“Information? I serve drinks.” He motioned to the bar. “Liquor or beer, your choice.”

“Um. A beer I guess?” I reached into my wallet and pulled out a twenty-dollar bill.

“Coming right up.” He picked up a glass and started pouring amber liquid into it from the tap next to him.

“I’m looking for a guy—uh—he’s about six-five, lots of tattoos, dark brown hair.” I ran through the description of the guy I had seen take my bag.

“You just described half the patrons in the bar and most of my immediate family.” He chuckled as he put the beer in front of me and scooped up my money.

“He drives a truck—a black truck?” I added the only detail I had.

“That narrows it down by about fifty percent.” He shrugged.

“He took my suitcase at the airport.” I picked up the beer and sipped it, feeling tears welling up in my eyes. “I just want to try and get my stuff back.”

“Oh shit.” He sighed heavily and leaned against the bar. “Please don’t cry.”

“I can’t help it. I’m here on vacation and I’m pretty sure he took it on purpose. I just want to talk to him. I’d be happy to pay for my stuff, if I could just get it back.” I sipped the beer again and wiped away a tear.

“Listen.” He leaned closer. “It sounds like you’re looking for Vincent or Floyd. They’re small time—but I’m pretty sure I saw them bring a luggage bag in here yesterday. I saw Vincent leave with it. He’s got an apartment over on Park Place—don’t tell him I told you that.”

“I won’t!” I shook my head and felt the hope rising again. “I promise.”

I could have called the cops—I probably should have gone that route instead of heading to the apartment complex on my own. It took a while for the Uber to arrive and that was after two refused to even pick me up. The apartment complex looked about as shady as the bar, but I couldn’t give up when I had a lead, especially when I saw the black truck parked in one of the spaces near the lobby. The guy at the front desk eyed me suspiciously when I asked about Vincent, but I slipped him a twenty-dollar bill and he quickly told me which apartment I should go to. I started up the stairs with each step heavier than the one before it. I had no idea what would be waiting on me when I knocked on the door. For all I knew, he could just kill me—I wasn’t sure it would be that unusual to see a dead body lying in the hallway underneath the graffiti. My thoughts were focused more on my camera than my safety. I really did want to get it back. I got to the front door of the apartment and positioned myself to knock.

Here goes nothing.