I sloshed the orange vodka around in my glass. The swirling, tangerine liquid distracted me from the memories swirling around in my mind.

"Mommy, I drew you a picture!"

Another long sip sent the recollection back to where it came from. Whoever saud that alcohol couldn't solve your problems was dead wrong. Four glasses later and I was feeling a lot better than before.

"Olivia! Liv! Olvia!"

"Huh?"

"You have somewhere you need to be!" she sang.

"You're right, I need to be sitting here with a full glass of this shit. Bartender!" I called.

He ambled over with the almost empty bottle, "You almost finished this one up, lady."
"Take it out of my paycheck," I instructed and eyed up the vodka as it poured into my glass.

As soon as it was full, I tipped it back. Bethany pounded her hand on the bar, "Olivia Isobel Stone!"

"Who the hell told you my name?"

"Stop changing the subject, now would you rather see Criss Angel deft death or drink your weight in fruity vodka?" she asked.

"Do you want the honest answer to that question?"

"Come on!"

Before she could pull me away, I guzzled it down. The last of it slid down my throat and temporarily blocked out Bethany's shouts. As soon as I stood up, the room slanted and spun around, "Jesus!"

When I'm sitting down, it's easy for me to hold down my alcohol. Once I stood up though, my logic and sanity slipped away.

"Come on, let's go!"

I followed her through the hall in a slightly crooked line. Everything seemd a lot louder than it usually is in the lobby. The cold air from the outside didn't stun me as much as it should have. My senses were going numb.

"It's freezing out here! Isn't Las Vegas supposed to be hot?" Bethany complained.

"Deserts get cold at night, stupid!" I laughed as we approached a group of people.

Was I really that drunk or was the crane really that tall? What's that box over there? I really wish I knew if it was happening like I saw it, or if it was the glasses I'd just downed that I was seeing.

"Olivia!"

Two strong arms wrapped around me. It took me a little but to register who it was, "Hey, Criss."

My cheery non-sarcastic reply must have shocked him. He didn't plan on showing any sign of it though, "I'm glad you could come."

"Who would pass up a chance to watch you get yourself killed?"

Normally, I would've added a harsh laugh and sneer. Now a giggle and flirty smile followed. This night was already headed down the wrong path.

Picking up on how trashed I was, he asked, "Then how about a kiss goodbye."

Damn him for taking advantage of how vulnerable I am, "I'll hold that until you come back."

"Why not now?" he pressed on.

"What, you don't think you're gonna make it out of this one?"

He huffed and started to walk away, "Don't make promises you won't keep."

"I'm no-ot!" I promised and pulled my jacket tighter.

Bethany walked back from talking to a group of guys, "2, 3, 4 numbers. How are things on the Virgin Islands?"

"I'm not a virgin," I corrected.

"So you're a used car with a few miles in you that hasn't been out of the driveway for a while? Virgin sounds a lot better," she informed.

I sighed and turned towards where Criss was bellowing through a megaphone, "Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, are you ready to see some crazy shit?"

We all clapped and shouted in response. Once the noise died down, he continued, "Alright, I'm gonna be locked inside this barrel and handcuffed through these holes. Can you check and make sure this is what I say it is?"

A man came up and kicked at the wine barrel and nodded, "That's not all though, This barrell is going to be hoisted above the ground and come falling down three minutes later whether I'm in it or not."

Either he was as drunk as I am, or he really is insane. As he crawled inside and was handcuffed through the holes, I couldn't take my eyes off of the scene. He was actually putting his life on the line for no reason at all.

I should be ranting about how he just takes his life for granted like that. But I don't feel the least bit angry or resentful towards him. In fact, as they hoisted the barrel high over my head, I felt worry.

How was I worrying over him. I didn't care enough about him to have these butterflies churning inside of me. It has to be the vodka, this isn't me.

As the clock slowly ticked down, the butterflies started to fly faster and faster. Where was he? The timer hit zero and my heart dropped with the barrel.

The water and wood splashed everywhere, but there was no sign of Criss. My eyes flitted around the parking lot. Appear, poof, do something!

"Oh my God, he's up there! What the hell?"

A sigh of relief heaved my chest forward and down. He came down on a safety line and a crew quickly unbuckled him. Instead of walking around to see his loyal fans, he came straight to me.

I smiled in confusion and amazement, "How did you…"

He moved his hands to the sides of my face and pulled me to his lips. Why was I enjoying this? This was supposed to be romantic and special, isn't that how it works? It turns out I had so much to learn about this, and unfortunately this was the man that was going to teach me.

Sorry, it had to be done! I promise more interesting stuff!