Exquisite Betrayal

Ever since this bucket of metal called a plane left the ground, I’ve been asking myself if spending my last nickel on this trip will be worth it. Even though it means going without food at times, I stashed away every tip I earned to save for this. My mountain of debt is enormous, but then again, I keep telling myself, you only live once, right?

When the plane suddenly lurches, I know it’s going to roll completely over at any minute. I want to get off this carnival ride so badly I can taste it. My fingers tightly clench the armrest and I’m pretty sure if I ever deplane, my imprints will be left behind forever.

I feel a light patting on my arm and then I hear, “It’ll be just fine, dear. Those are only crosswinds from the desert. We always have those in Vegas.” The flight attendant announced moments before that we’ve been cleared for landing, but from the motion of the plane, I fear we won’t make it.

Glancing to my right, I see the tiny, elderly woman sitting next to me. My nerves are so shot, my attempt at smiling is an epic fail.

Fallon, sweetie, always remember to keep your chin up. Negative thoughts will only bring you down.

Dad’s words come back to me, a soothing balm to my tattered nerves and empty bank account. God, how I wish he were still here. I wouldn’t be in this damn mess of debt right now. It’s been six years, but sometimes the pain is so raw that it feels like yesterday.

“Honey, is this your first time flying?” The voice next to me breaks me out of my daydreaming.

“Hmm? Oh, yes, ma’am,” I squeak.

“Ah, I see. Well, this is all part of flying and very normal.”

“Really? I feel like I’m on a sideways Tilt-A-Whirl at the county fair.”

“Oh no, honey, this is smooth. I’ve been on some real doozies, I tell you. So what brings you to Vegas? Are you going to lose all your money to the slots?” she laughs.

“Huh?” My anxiety has me so edgy, I’m not following the conversation for a second and then it hits me. “Oh, no, ma’am. I’m here for the Wicked Wench’s Conference.” I don’t have a spare nickel to spend on the slots as it is.

She nods and eyes me for a second. “So, are you a Wench then?”

“Oh no! I’m a blogger,” I tell her, glad for the distraction from the chaotic flight.

The noise of the engines has picked up so she is leaning closer to me now, trying to hear. “A what? A booger?”

“No! Not a booger! A blogger!”

“Oh, a blogger. I’ve always wanted to see you girls dance. Do you have those fancy clicking shoes? Can you kick your legs high up in the air? I bet you can. You look like you could be limber like that.”

By the time I start to explain that I’m a blogger and not a clogger, the plane rolls to a stop and the seatbelt light goes off. For an elderly woman, she moves like lightening as she shoots out of her seat and flies down the aisle. I sit and stare at her with my mouth hanging open. Obviously she knows the ins and outs of flying much better than I do. I’m lost in the sea of shoving people as eager as I am to get off of that death trap.

As I’m pushed along the jetway, I finally emerge into McCarran International Airport. The place is huge! Taking a deep breath, I knock the monster of intimidation back and follow the signs to Baggage Claim, eager to meet my fellow book bloggers for the first time.

We are a gang of five that met online over our love for romance novels. We teamed up through Twitter first and then Facebook. As we found ourselves chatting and becoming friends, our interest in the same genre triggered the idea for us to start a book blog where we could review and post about our favorite books. I think it was Kat’s idea originally, but it took off like a forest fire in a Santa Ana wind.

We decided to celebrate our first anniversary by attending the Wicked Wenches Con in Las Vegas together. It would finally give us the chance to not only meet each other in person, but also some of our favorite authors of romance. Kat Graham, Amanda Cook, Mandy Henderson and Andrea Simpson are my partners, though I look at them as my family. They’ve done more for me in the last year than my mom has in the past five. Honestly, if they had purchased me a paper clip, they would’ve done more than my mom, however that’s another story.

I finally locate the conveyer belt thingy and watch for my bag when my phone dings. I look to see it’s a text from Kat.

Kat: I’m here. Are you?

Me: Yep…just waiting on my suitcase.

Kat: Where?

Me: Carousel #15

Kat: On my way!

Five minutes later, the bags start to roll down and mayhem ensues. I’ve never seen anything like it. From what I can tell that belt keeps going around in a big circle and eventually it’s going to get back to me again. I can’t figure out why those people are in such a frenzy over it.