What Happens in Vegas Hardly Ever Stays in Vegas

Vegas. City of Lights. No, that was Paris. City of Different Lights. Whatever. Temporary home of all the Ford dealers in the US for the next three days. At least it wasn't Detroit. Or Atlanta... God, he hated Atlanta. Bunch of uptight career-driven pretend Southerners, born inPassaic or Kenosha... At least here there were a lot of partially dressed women for him to ogle.

And now he could look and touch, if he wanted to. No more wife to consider. No more marriage to protect. Absentmindedly he rubbed his finger, still feeling the slight crease where the ring should be, even after more than a year. But no more ring. Just a stack of papers, two lawyers that were wealthier than they had been before, and one bitter, sullen boy, shuttling between two houses every other week. Not that he had a house anymore... She'd seen to that. Best he could do for the moment was a two bedroom apartment in what was admittedly a very good building. It also had a park next door, with a basketball court. That was what sold him... the court. At least this way he and Lucas could still practice.

It had seemed such a perfect idea. Marry the high school sweetheart, even if the marriage was somewhat hastened by an unexpected pregnancy. Dropping out of college had been an easy choice, especially after his knee injury took away any hope of playing real ball. He'd worked his way up in the dealership to sales manager, eventually making VP of Sales over the whole Harris group. He and Karen had been happy. They'd had enough money to give Lucas good things. Karen had even started her own little cafe. It was good - got her out of the house once Lucas started school. It was never going to make her rich, but it made her happy, and what made her happy made him happy.

But that was before... Before he discovered romantic fairy tale love only can only survive in fairy tales. Before junior leagues and Lucas showing real talent on the court. Karen said he was pushing their son too hard, but didn't she see? She knew what good ball looked like, how could she not see his potential? All it needed was some direction, someone to guide him and bring out his gift. By the time Lucas was 14 and a freshman in high school, he was ready to try out for varsity. He'd have made it too, if Whitey hadn't trumped up some stupid rule about not letting freshmen on the varsity team. Old meddler. Long past time he needed to get out of coaching. Anyway, by then Karen had kicked him out, and the fairy tale had fractured, cleanly down the middle, with his son split in two. He'd retreated into books and never wanted to practice anymore. His game was slipping badly, and nothing Dan said seemed to get through. The only consolation he had was that Lucas seemed to hate both his parents equally right now. Karen he could understand, she'd booted the boy's father out of their house after all, but he didn't understand Lucas' anger toward him. Lucas knew Dan was only looking out for him.

He checked his watch. 45 minutes before he had to get ready for the banquet. Enough time to catch the news and maybe grab a quick nap. Maybe he'd call Lucas.... No, that's right. Away game. Tomorrow then. He grabbed the remote and clicked on the TV. The traditional perky blonde was trying to look serious. Must be a "real" news story, he thought idly. Great boobs though... All thoughts of the relative merits of real vs. silicone were driven out of his head by a photo, though. Another blonde. One he knew for a fact had killer boobs, and everything else. A quiet smile. A quick laugh. Skin that had felt like silk. A kind heart. His one big regret of his brief time in college. Deb. He reached for the remote and turned up the volume.

"The gunmen entered the bank just after opening and forced Carver to override the time lock and open the vault. What they didn't know is that the regular cash delivery had been held up by the pileup this morning in the interstate, and when they found less than $75,000 in the vault, witnesses say that they shot Carver point blank in retribution. Debra Carver, 34, leaves behind a 15 year old son."

The perky blonde went on to give the details of the subsequent chase, shootout, and arrest of the surviving bank robbers, but Dan heard nothing after the words "... 15 year old son". She must have wanted to tell him. That must have been it. He'd gone to her, to tell her about Karen, and the baby, and how he had to leave school and her. He'd said "I have something to tell you" and she'd said "me too" and she had started to say something about how important their relationship was, and he'd felt he had to stop her, tell her that their important relationship was over. And she'd cried and left and now that he thought about it, she never really had gotten to her point. Numbly, he reached into the mini-bar and took out every single little tiny bottle of $7.50 scotch, poured them into a tumbler, and downed it in one gulp. Then he shook his head, grabbed his wallet and roomkey and went downstairs to hail a cab.