Disclaimer: We don't own 'em…

Chapter 1: Sara

This is how it's been for the last nine weeks. Every night that I have off—and even some that I don't—I head to this local hot spot that's become a favorite hangout for me and nearly every twenty-something year-old in Clarke County. They're a bit younger than me, but that doesn't matter. Greg introduced me to this place—his place to pick up unsuspecting women of questionable moral character. In other words, women who are willing to trade their bodies for a few free drinks. And while he was busy picking up girls, I was busy accepting a veritable rainbow of alcoholic concoctions from younger men.

The music is just loud enough to drown out the conversations of others, but not so loud as to keep you from enjoying the ramblings of whomever you're with. It's a place to escape—to be who you want to be—or who they want you to be. And as long as you remember that you're not playing for keeps and that this is all about one thing—then it's all good.

I'm in a room crowded with people and I have one of my best friends here with me tonight, but I still feel so alone. It's weird how that happens—how sometimes even in a crowded room you feel utterly alone. And at other times, when you're by yourself and despair is banging on the door with both fists, the simple thought of a friend or the gentle kiss of a past lover is enough to stave off the loneliness. And when they aren't enough or you feel like you can't trust the memory, there are tricks to help you forget. But I'm not here tonight trying to forget. I'm here tonight hoping to remember.

The hand moving in front of my eyes snaps me back to reality—as shitty as it is right now.

"Sorry," I say as I smile at the beautiful blonde here with me tonight.

"It's no problem," she says as she tips her beer back in a way that makes me wish I could look at her as something other than a friend. "So, as I was saying," she continues as she puts the drained bottle back down on the table between us. "Have you located your next victim, er, boy toy?"

I just shake my head and put the bottled water I've been nursing back on the table. As I start to peel the label off the bottle, she puts her hand over mine and pulls it toward her.

"Sara."

The way she breathes my name more than says it makes me smile and I gently squeeze her fingers before pulling my hand back and staring back out at the writhing bodies on the dance floor. She slides over closer to me and puts drapes her arm around me, pressing herself against me.

"You know," she starts as she plays with the tips of my hair, "you really should give up your ambition of fucking every swinging dick in Vegas. We really could be good together, Sar."

I turn toward her and place my hand on her cheek, noticing how her eyes sparkle at my initiation of contact. I don't even need to speak—to say the words that will hurt her. I never have. She just nods and slides over, putting a safe distance between us. I'm still watching her when I sense someone standing beside me.

"I know you, right?" His voice is deep and his blue eyes sparkle beneath a mop of wavy brown curls. "You're Sara, right?"

I just shake my head, "Sorry. My name's not Sara. It's," and I pause, searching for a name I can give him that isn't my own, "Sofia."

As soon as her name leaves my mouth I can feel her eyes boring holes into my skull.

"Are you sure? You look really familiar," he kneels down so that instead of towering over me he's a bit closer to my level. "I think we," he winks at me, "a few weeks ago."

Sensing my discomfort, Sofia (the real one) reaches over and takes my hand, jerking me toward her, "Baby, is there something you need to tell me?"

She's been out with me often enough to know when I need a little back-up.

"Oh, sorry," the guy admits as he stands up. "I could've sworn we knew each other."

He stands there, eyeing me and Sofia (once again, the real one) finally says, "You could get to know her tonight…both of us. I have this huge strap-on and we've been looking for the right guy to fuck with it." She lets her eyes roam over him for a second before adding, "I think you'd do."

"Uh, no thanks," he says as he turns and almost runs away from our table.

I lightly slap her on the shoulder, "You really shouldn't traumatize the young men of Vegas like that."

"Oh, I'm sorry, SOFIA! Geez, Sara, couldn't you use someone else's name? Make up a name? Something other than Sofia."

"I froze. I couldn't help it," I pick up my water and finish it before turning my back to Sofia and continuing to watch the orgy of dancing on the floor.

Sofia gets up and makes her way onto the floor, having spied a young woman that was in need of apparently a cavity search. How that woman manages to keep her job with all the sexual harassing she does is beyond me.

Several songs and, if I'm not mistaken, one orgasm (given, never received) later, Sofia comes back to our little corner.

"So what gives, Sar? You've been sitting here all night. Doing nothing but staring at everyone on that dance floor. You've turned down drinks. You've downed nothing but water. You're not being the Sara Sidle I've grown accustomed to since…"

I put up my hand to stop her. She knows that's off-limits—the one thing I won't discuss with her.

"Fine," she says. "Just tell me what the fuck is going on. Did one of those assholes do something? If so, tell me which one and I'll kick his ass as I'm hauling him downtown.

I can't help but smile at her offer. She's so hot when she acts all butch.

"Come on, Sara. What is it?"

"I'm just trying to figure out which one it is."

She slams her hands down on the table. "I knew it. I told you to be careful," she's quickly moved out of the booth and is standing and leaning against it. She's rolling her sleeves up as she says, "Which one is it? Just point him out."

"Down girl."

She frowns and doesn't bother rolling her sleeves back down as she slides back into the booth. "What do you mean you're trying to figure out which one it is?"

"You know, I've been coming here for more than two months now. I've slept with at least a dozen different guys," I turn toward her. "Most of 'em, I couldn't tell you their names, what they did for a living, or anything else about them."

I turn my gaze back to the dance floor before taking a deep breath and turning to my best friend. Here it was. Saying it out loud to someone was going to make it very real and I sure as fuck didn't know if I was going to be able to handle that.

Suddenly, I couldn't hear the music or feel the bass of it in my chest. The bodies on the dance floor were a blur and those that were milling around the club were moving in slow motion. Her hand on mine brought back my focus.

I nodded my head a few times and fought the tears that I knew were going to be shed once I told her. "I'm trying to figure out which one of them is…is the…the father of my baby."