Reba Hart awoke. The cotton sheets, in a shade of blue of an endless ocean that would have been disgusting if you were in a bad mood, embraced her , she pushed a mess of red hair out of her face, the stink of alcohol was nauseating to her as she stretched in the large, unfamiliar bed. Blinking, she saw silver among the color of flesh. It glimmered, then she sat up. Where am I? Vegas...crappppppp! No one was in that room with her, he probably left.

This can not be happening.

She quickly wrapped herself in something nearby either hers or his, she wasn't sure. She found a door she believed was the bathroom, alabaster white and gave the appearance it was newly painted. Opening it, she screamed. Brock Hart stood in front of her.

"You?!" She managed to hiss out. "Anyone but you. tell me this is not serious." She turned around, her two hands covering her face.

"Well, Elvis's Chapel Of Love seems pretty serious," He told her, a slight smile of amusement on his face.

"Tell me, are you still dru--what are those?" Reba caught a glance at the stack of papers Brock held.

"They're wedding---" before he could finish, she had snatched the papers away. Reba, in shock, looked through the wedding documents from pictures to certificate. Reba began to think properly.

"Where are the kids?" Reba questioned, her blue eyes in shock, glancing over the papers. She grabbed her cell phone from the bedside table.

5 missed calls. Cheyenne, Cheyenne, Van,Cheyenne, Kyra. Cheyenne left a message that they were going home and told Reba to keep safe. It listed the missed calls. Reba knew she couldn't just tell the kids she just got hitched with their father in Vegas.

Out of all the other people.

Stupid Van and his real estate selling ability. Van had earned a free trip to Vegas for ten people of his choice and somehow motivated Reba to go, along with Brock. Barbra Jean had refused, insisting on focusing on her new job. Reba knew it was a lie. Last week, the two had went to court about their divorce, but they hadn't informed the kids yet.

How sickening and...and dirty this made Reba feel. He was still a married man! And she married him. In Vegas.

"We need to start packing,"Reba told him, scrambling to throw on her top.

" Check out is at three," Brock informed her, already halfway buttoning his shirt. It was only ten thirty.

"You know, you seem to like how screwed up this is," Reba told him, giving him a angry look. Brock smiled, then answered," Well, last night was quite----"Gah!!" Reba began to cover her ears. Brock smiled, satisfied. Reba began packing the suitcases, as Brock queried," You're not gonna tell the kids?"

"Not now." Reba gritted through her teeth."Anything left?"

"Well, these papers," Reba snatched the papers with a disgusted look on her face. Her ring sparkled as she took the paper from Brock.

"You like the ring?" Brock mischievously asked.

"No, I'm afraid it'll melt if I put it down." She sarcastically answered him. Reba knew there was no point in moping now. She was somewhat in a..."domestic relationship" with this man. She went inside the bathroom to take a shower. After she was done, her eyes widened in horror. She had packed her towel in the suitcase already.

"Brock?" She called for, realizing this was her last result.

"What, are you OK?" Brock thought of her high blood pressure and this dilemma might have risen it in some way.

"I kinda left my towel in the suitcase, can you get it for me?" She asked, embarrassed out of her , he retrieved the blanket, then knocked on the white door.A hand grabbed the towel and he heard a mumbled thank you.

"Anything for you, wifey," he grinned, as the hand that just received the blanket slapped him, "Owww!!" he rubbed his arm.

Reba stepped out fully dressed and the two went down the giant hotel.

"I'm sorry,ma'am, but checkout is at three, why don't you eat at our brunch service," The lady at the counter, no more than twenty five, flashed them a giant grin. Left with no choice, the two went to the restaurant. The two ate the food almost with reluctance, even though it was delicious. Brock was the first to break the silence.

"What are we going to do?" Brock asked.

"Well, you can't be married to two women at the same time," Reba sarcastically told him," I don't know, this mess is so dumb, there's too many things tied to it, it's all your fault, you mo-ron!"

"My fault, who was the one who downed five shots?Who was the one that yelled "let's get married!'" Brock retorted.

"Well, you were the one who wanted to tag along!" Reba yelled back, holding her fork up as if she was going to hurt him. A bunch of tourists glanced at them.

"Well, I assumed you were more fun than the kids!" He yelled back, then mumbled,"you were." Reba gave him a deadly look, then hissed," Any talk about last night and I will kill you with my bare hands. Besides, can we get divorced here?"

" Not yet! Look, why don't we just try?" Brock asked," Besides, we have to go through everything and we don't know if this is even legal, let's go home and see a lawyer first, come on, its three o' five, let's go"

The two checked out, full of thoughts, so similar yet so different.

Viva Las Vegas.