THE SUN WAS JUST BARELY GONE FROM THE SKY AS the red Mustang closed in on Las Vegas. There had been a few stars blinking as it darkened around them, but seemingly with every foot closer to Sin City, they disappeared, clouded by who knew what—the bright lights, the smog, the haze of debauchery.
“Hey,” Mitch said, rubbing Kendra’s shoulder. “You should see this.”
Kendra stirred, now closing in on hour three of her post-barbecue nap. Slowly, her eyes opened and she looked up at Mitch. “Are we . . . ” she started sleepily, but her eyes settled closed again.
“Yo!” Mitch shouted. Kendra jerked straight up as if Mitch had thrown ice-cold water into her face.
“What, what, what is it?” she stammered, panicked.
“Just look,” Mitch said, smiling. Kendra sat up and looked straight ahead of them.
The lights of the Las Vegas Strip shimmered ahead of them, a visual cacophony of colors and roving lights. As if someone had dropped a pile of gemstones—rubies, emeralds, opals, topazes—into the desert, and lit them on fire.
“Holy moly,” Kendra whispered. “This is . . . ”
“Even better than you thought?” Mitch said. “I know.”
Mitch and Kendra giddily pointed out the individual hotels and casinos along Las Vegas Boulevard as I-15 bent around southward, running parallel to the Strip. There was the giant faux big top of Circus Circus, the gold, brick-shaped Trump International Hotel—“And there’s where we won’t be going,” Kendra said, proudly thumbing her nose—the iconic arched bridge of the Venetian, the monolithic temple of Caesar’s Palace, and the majestic Bellagio.
“Oh, wait a second,” Mitch said suddenly. “We don’t know where we’re staying.”
Kendra guffawed, slapping the dashboard in front of her. “Oh my God! We’re idiots!” she cried.
Mitch’s heart rate went up sharply as he realized, at sixty-five miles an hour, they were at risk of blowing by the Strip entirely. They had to act fast. “Google ‘cheap Vegas hotels’ or something?” he said frantically.
“Just get off at the next exit,” Kendra said, “and we can pull over and do some research.”
Mitch did as he was told, angling the Mustang towards the exit for Tropicana Avenue. It was only then, as he looked at the blinking turn light, that he noticed something else illuminated on the control panel: the empty light.
“Oh my God, what?” Mitch exclaimed. “I totally filled that up after lunch!”
Kendra’s heart practically stopped. “How long has that been on?”
“Did you top it off?” Kendra asked. “My dad warned me it might cut off a few times before it’s full and you have to keep going . . . oh my God, did I not tell you that?”
The Mustang was flying up the exit ramp towards Tropicana Avenue, coming to a stoplight next to a strip club called the American Dream. Normally Mitch would have cracked a joke, but there wasn’t time. “Which way should I turn?” Mitch asked frantically.
“Um . . . to the right,” Kendra said. “I don’t know!”
Mitch turned anyway, and after a few blocks spotted a beacon of hope: a Hampton Inn & Suites not more than a hundred feet away. “I’m gonna pull in there,” Mitch said. “We don’t have to stay there, but this could be perfect.”
He pulled into a turn lane on Tropicana Avenue, putting his blinker on and waiting for the opposite-side traffic to abate. “An oasis in the desert,” Kendra said as Mitch had enough room to turn.
But as soon as he made the turn, Mitch knew something was up. The car suddenly had no momentum; it was barely moving across the busy four-lane road! Mitch pumped the pedal—once, twice, three times—as the headlights of oncoming cars loomed through Kendra’s window.
“What’s happening?” Kendra shouted.
“It’s dying!” Mitch screamed, fighting away the feeling of imminent death creeping into his head.
Then, on one frantic shove of the gas pedal, the car sprang to life, lurching forward the remaining ten feet into the driveway of the hotel. But once the rear of the car had barely crossed the threshold, inches from being hit by a huge black SUV flying down the road, the engine completely died.
“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” Mitch spat, bitterly throwing the gearshift into park.
“What do we do?” Kendra asked, her voice trembling with fear. Just as Mitch was about to confess his complete ignorance and fear, two voices came careening across the parking lot.
“Hey!” the two voices, both female, shouted together. “Do you need help?”
Mitch rolled down his window and leaned his head out. “Yes!”
The two women walked briskly across the parking lot. As they got closer to the car, the car’s headlights illuminated them. They both looked to be in their late twenties and were dressed to go out on the town, by the looks of it. They each wore tight, short cocktail dresses and had stilettos on their feet.
“Your car die?” asked one of the women, coming up to the window. She was a stunning black woman with straightened jet-black hair streaked with cobalt.
“Looks that way,” Mitch said abashedly.
The woman laughed. “You’re like thirty feet from the finish line!” She laughed loudly, her dark-red lips pulling back to reveal gleaming white, perfectly aligned teeth. She was a lot for Mitch to take in. He gawked up at her, slouched in the driver’s seat.
“Pretty pathetic, huh?” Kendra said from the passenger side.
The woman locked eyes with Mitch, not acknowledging Kendra’s comment. He felt paralyzed by her gaze, which was serious but not threatening. Mitch felt like she was trying to tell him a secret.
“I’m Patrice,” the woman said, extending her hand. Mitch took it and shook, smiling dumbly. After a pause, Kendra leaned over to look Patrice in the eye.
“He’s Mitch,” Kendra said flatly, “and my name’s Kendra.”
“Oh. Yeah,” Mitch muttered, smiling sheepishly.
“I’ll touch you,” Patrice said. Mitch’s eyes flew open comically, his heart pounding.
“What?!” he exploded, sweat breaking out on the base of his neck.
“I said we’ll push you,” Patrice said again, slowly.
“Oh,” Mitch said, his face suddenly boiling hot.
Kendra again saved his neck. “That’d be great,” she said charmingly. “What do you need us to do?”
Patrice’s friend, who sported shoulder-length platinum-blonde hair and dangling pendant earrings, sauntered up behind her. “I’m Abby,” she said, extending her hand towards Mitch. He took it, noticing how warm her long slender fingers were.
This time, Patrice filled in the blanks. “He’s Mitch,” she said, winking back at him.
“And he’s not as dumb as he looks,” Kendra piped in dryly. “I mean . . . not usually.”
“No problem,” Abby said. “I’d say dumb guys are my type.”
What is going on?! Mitch screamed inside his head. He wanted to high five Kendra a million times in a row. They’d been in Vegas for ten minutes and already two gorgeous women were coming onto him!
“Here,” Patrice said, looking at Kendra, “why don’t you get out, and the three of us will push?”
“Totally,” Kendra said, throwing the door open. Mitch was sure that was passive-aggressive code for Turn off your teenage-boy brain and make sure we don’t get blown to smithereens by the cars flying at thirty miles an hour, five feet away from us!
Mitch watched in the rearview mirror as the three of them got behind the bumper. “Ready!” Kendra yelled.
After a moment, Mitch realized he didn’t ask one very important question. “What do I do . . . ?” he asked dumbly.
“Oh my God!” Kendra shouted. “Put it in neutral!” Abby and Patrice laughed. Great, Mitch thought, there go my chances with those two. Nice going, Matlin.
Mitch moved the gearshift into neutral. “Okay!” he shouted, putting his hands on the steering wheel. And then . . . nothing happened. Mitch heard groans of agony from behind the car. He waited five seconds . . . ten seconds . . . still nothing. “Hey, maybe I should push instead!” he shouted out the window.
“Shut up!” Abby yelled, smirking. “Girl power!” With one huge push, the women started the car rolling across the asphalt. Mitch kept his hands on the steering wheel.
“You’re doing awesome!” he cheered.
“Little to the left!” Patrice yelled from behind. Mitch did as he was told, angling the Mustang toward a parking spot coming ever closer.
With a few more grunts and groans, Abby, Patrice, and Kendra successfully pushed the car into the spot, precisely between the two white lines.
“Woo!” Mitch cheered, moving the gearshift back into park and tossing off his seatbelt. He jumped out of the car and jogged to the bumper, where the women were leaning over, catching their breath with their hands on their knees.
“Great work, guys,” Mitch said. Now that he was standing, he could really appreciate just how tall Abby and Patrice were. In their six-inch heels, they stood three or four inches above him. I thought I only liked girls who were shorter than me, he thought. Guess I thought wrong.
“What’s that saying about Ginger Rogers?” Patrice asked.
“She did everything Fred Astaire did—only backwards and in heels,” Abby said, smiling and readjusting her hair.
“Yass!” Patrice cheered, fist-bumping Abby and Kendra. “That is so us right now.”
“Do these count?” Kendra asked, indicating her fashionable Puma hi-top sneakers.
“It’s a more holistic thing,” Abby said.
Patrice nodded. “Yeah, in our society, all women are always walking backwards in heels, you know? Metaphorically?”
Kendra nodded skeptically.
“Tooootally,” Mitch said, trying to butt in. “I am right there with you.” Kendra rolled her eyes so far back Mitch thought they might disappear into her skull.
“Well, anyway,” Abby said, “there you guys go. You’re not getting killed in traffic tonight.”
“Thank you guys so much,” Mitch said, coming closer to them. “We owe you. Seriously, big time.”
“Yeah, what can we do for you?” Kendra asked. “We could buy you dinner or . . . ”
“No, no,” Patrice said. “No need for any of that. We wanted to help.”
Abby nodded. “Our pleasure, seriously. But we’re going over to MGM. Are you guys going out?”
Mitch and Kendra looked at each other, desperately trying to communicate in silence. Finally, Kendra said, “Maybe in a bit. Gotta . . . get unpacked, you know?”
Patrice smiled. “I feel you. Here, Mitch, give me your phone.” Mitch’s heart practically rocketed out of his chest as he took out his iPhone. Patrice snatched it and typed in her number.
Handing the phone back to him, she smiled—a subtle smirk that Mitch felt was just for him. “There you go, now you can hit us up whenever you want. I just texted myself from your phone, so I have you, too. We’ll be together all night,” Patrice said.
Who’s “we”? Mitch wanted to scream. You and Abby? Me and you? Me and you and Abby?
But Abby and Patrice were already waving goodbye, walking across the parking lot. “Our Uber is here!” Abby called. “See you guys soon!”
Then they ducked into a black Honda and were gone, heading down Tropicana Avenue, over the highway overpass, and out onto Las Vegas Boulevard.
Mitch and Kendra watched them go in complete silence. After the Honda disappeared over the crest of the highway overpass, they turned to look at each other.
“What just happened?” Mitch whispered.
“Alright, could be worse!” Kendra cheered as she turned on the hotel room’s lights. Two double beds sat side by side, separated by a tiny tan bedside table. On top of the table sat an old digital alarm clock, blinking 12:00 in bright red numerals.
“Smells a little like smoke,” Mitch said, tossing his duffel bag on the bed.
“Well, how long ago do you think it was legal to smoke in hotels here? Like, until yesterday?” Kendra said, smirking. Mitch shrugged and tossed himself down on the bed.
“Man, I’m exhausted,” he groaned towards the ceiling. “This day was epic.”
“You didn’t seem too exhausted with Abby and Patrice,” Kendra said, doing cartoonish hair flips and duck faces while saying the girls’ names. “I thought I was going to have to put a freaking leash on you.”
Mitch sat up slightly and looked at Kendra, smiling. “Patrice was totally flirting with me, though, be honest.”
“Oh my God!” Kendra shouted. “He’s still at it! Dude, if they thought you were cute at first, they definitely don’t now. You had literally zero chill.”
“She gave me her number!” Mitch was indignant. How could Kendra not see what he was seeing?
“That was a power play,” Kendra said, shrugging. “Trust me, man. Girls are tricky like that. She was just getting off on seeing you sit there at her feet like a little golden retriever.”
His blood pulsing, Mitch flopped back down onto the mattress. He was at a loss for words. He didn’t remember the last time his best friend had been so cold and dismissive of him. I laughed along with you and encouraged you with that stupid waiter, Mitch thought. Why not return the favor?
“So, what happened with the car, man?” Kendra asked.
Now you’re accusing me of that too? Mitch wanted to say. “I mean, either it started burning up fuel like crazy, or it was the problem that you didn’t tell me about.”
Kendra chuckled bitterly. “So, it’s my fault?”
“Whoa,” Mitch said, “I didn’t say that.”
“I just can’t believe we screwed up that bad. Already.” Kendra put her face in her hands. “What if that thing is permanently dead? Oh my God.”
“It’s not. It can’t be,” Mitch said. “We just have to get some more gas in it. Maybe we’ll have to get it towed? I don’t know how these things work.”
But Kendra wasn’t listening. It was like she had already given up on the entire trip.
Suddenly Kendra’s phone sprang to life, chirping loudly as it rang. “Oh no,” she said, like she’d just gotten a life-threatening diagnosis. “It’s my parents.”
Mitch’s eyes flew over to her, his hair standing straight up on his neck. “You have to answer it,” he said. “If you don’t, they’ll think you’re dead.”
“Okay, but help me along the way. Make sure I don’t say anything stupid.” Mitch nodded gravely, taking a deep breath. Both he and Kendra knew that if they dropped the ball, this entire thing could be over in an instant.
“Hello?” Kendra asked.
“Hey, hey!” came her dad’s voice from the other end of the line. “Thought you weren’t gonna answer there for a second.”
“Nope, I’m here,” Kendra said, forcing a smile.
“Mom’s here, too,” Richard said. “Say something, honey.”
“Hi, sweetness,” Angela crooned. “How are you? You’ve made it to Reno by now, or are you still on the road?”
“Nope, we’re here!” Kendra said. “Just got in a few minutes ago, actually. Good timing!” She was really trying to sound happy. From across the room, Mitch took a big deep breath and made a big show of pushing his hands downward, in a “keep cool” gesture.
“How was the drive?” Angela asked.
Before she could answer, Kendra heard her dad in the background. “Honey, put me on speakerphone.”
Then her mom, muttering, “I don’t know how to—”
“Just give it to me, here, I’ll do—”
“Don’t order me around like that, Richard, you know I don’t like it when you do that—”
As they squabbled, Kendra took a deep breath.
“Alright, can you hear us?” Richard asked on the other end of the line.
“Yep, sure can,” Kendra said.
“Okay, so how was the drive?”
“Totally nice, really not much traffic.”
“And which route did you take? Looked like there were a few options.”
Kendra’s blood ran cold. She pointed at Mitch, mouthing Your phone! I need your phone! Mitch grabbed it and tossed it across to her. “What’s that?” she said, filling time. She unlocked the phone and opened Maps.
“I said which route did you take?” Richard asked, spelling out each word deliberately. Kendra searched for a route between Salt Lake City and Reno. The phone thought, and thought, and thought . . . Come on! Kendra wanted to scream.
“Uh,” she said, “let’s see. It was mostly on the—” Just then the map filled out and showed the route. “It was mostly on Highway Eighty,” she said, breathing a tiny sigh of relief. One more second of indecision and it would have been totally obvious she had no idea.
“Ah, sure, on the interstate,” Angela said. “Most efficient, I guess.”
“Yep,” Kendra said, unsure of what to add.
“You make any stops?” Richard asked. “I hope so! It’s not safe to drive for more than a few hours at a time, I’ve found. Your eyes start crossing and all that. You’re not really seeing the road anymore.”
“Oh, absolutely,” Kendra said. Frantically she searched around the route for a name of a town to feed her parents. “Yeah we stopped in . . . Elko. Elko, Nevada?”
“Ah, Elko!” Angela said enthusiastically. “We’ve been there, Richard, haven’t we?”
“Oh, you remember, honey . . . ” Richard began. While he rambled on about some story that didn’t involve her, Kendra allowed herself to relax. The talk was going well. There was no way they suspected anything. She smiled at Mitch across the room, giving him a cheerful “Okay” with her index finger and thumb.
“Kendra?” her mom asked.
“Oh! What?” she asked, flustered.
“Are you alright, hon? You seem a little distant or something,” Richard said. Then his voice got low and serious as he said, “Honey, if there are drugs or alcohol there and you’ve imbibed just say the word. We won’t be mad, we won’t be judgmental, we just want you to be safe—”
“Whoa, whoa!” Kendra said. “No, nothing like that. Just . . . tired.”
“Well, sure,” Angela said. Kendra could practically hear her mom patting her dad’s leg, telling him to calm down. “So, did you get any lunch along the way or anything?”
Kendra’s mouth started moving before she could stop it. “Yes! We went to this awesome barbecue place off the highway. It was called Lauren’s or something—is that right, Mitch?”
Mitch’s jaw dropped and his face turned white. Only then did it click in for Kendra what she had just done. The odds were definitely zilch that there was another barbecue restaurant in Elko—or anywhere in Utah or Nevada—called Lauren’s. She frantically tried to fix her mistake: “Or, maybe, I don’t remember what it was called . . . Lauren’s doesn’t sound quite right, all of a sudden. I don’t know!”
Mitch looked like he was going to have a panic attack. He flopped backwards on the bed, putting his hands over his face.
“I’ll look it up,” Richard said. “If it’s so good, maybe your mom and I will take our own road trip out there to go try it!”
“It was Lauren’s, you said?” Angela asked cheerfully.
“No, you know . . . that doesn’t sound right anymore,” Kendra spat. “I’ll have to look it up again. I don’t know where Lauren’s came from!” She laughed nervously, trying to find something else to talk about. “The car is holding up great, Dad. No worries there.” Her heart sank. She could handle lying about the other stuff. But lying about the car was too much.
“Oh, excellent!” he cheered. The distraction worked.
“Yep, the steering is really smooth and it really has some get-up-and-go!”
Kendra could hear her dad slap his knee in the background. He did that only when he was at his absolute happiest—when the Utes won a football game, or when Bill Maher was on TV. “Your mom was nervous,” he said. “See, honey? Nothing to be nervous about!”
“Well, I’ll withhold judgment until that car and that girl are back in our driveway,” she said. “But until then . . . ” She trailed off, her voice trembling.
“Oh, mom,” Kendra said, trying not to sound totally exasperated. “We’re going to be fine! The trip out here was seriously so easy.” Her heart sank saying it. It had been easy—up until the last few feet, when she and Mitch’s stupidity had almost cost them the car and their lives.
“I know you’ll be fine,” Angela said, sniffling. “You’re a very self-assured young woman, and Mitch is a great copilot.”
“Exactly,” Kendra said, trying to pull herself together. “Nothing to worry about whatsoever.”
There was a lull in the conversation, so Kendra jumped on it. “Well, guys, I should sign off. We’re gonna take a dip in the pool and make some s’mores.”
Mitch gave her a thumbs-up from where he lay across the room.
“Ooh, sounds fun,” Angela mused. “Honey, maybe we should make s’mores!”
“I’m on Atkins again, but you should certainly go ahead, honey,” Richard said. Kendra rolled her eyes, worried this would send her parents into another downward spiral of useless conversation. But her dad managed to stay on track. “Have a good night and get some sleep, alright? We don’t want you coming back too tired.”
Normally Kendra would mock her dad for saying something like that—as if she weren’t an adult who could take care of herself!—but she decided against it for the time being. “Will do,” she said calmly. “I promise.”
“Goodnight, sweet cheeks,” Richard said. “Say hi to Mitch for us!” Both of them frantically blew kisses into the phone.
“Love you, bye,” Kendra said quickly before they could say anything else. She hung up and tossed the phone onto the floor, sighing violently.
“Not bad,” Mitch said.
“I know, I know,” Kendra said. “I screwed up with the barbecue thing. You don’t have to tell me.”
Mitch threw his arms out wide. “I wasn’t going to!”
“Sorry,” Kendra said. “That was just stressful. And I’m exhausted. I’m not a lot of fun right now.”
“Me neither,” Mitch said. “You hungry?”
“Not in the least,” Kendra said, smiling. “But I’ll come with you if you want to get something.”
“There’s an In-N-Out across the street,” Mitch said. “I’ll walk over there and get something for myself.”
Without another word, Mitch got up from the bed and walked out the door. Kendra thought about shouting after him and telling him to stay. But the words didn’t come.