Slave to the Rhythm by Jane Harvey-Berrick

Sorry, honey.”
    “How come you’re at the airport—I thought your flight from Seattle landed a couple of hours ago?”
    Vanessa rolled her eyes. “It did, but my luggage didn’t. I decided to wait for the next flight. Whatever—it’s here now. Although I wouldn’t have minded the excuse to do some more shopping if it hadn’t arrived.”
    I smiled. Vanessa had an infectious love of life—nothing got her down for long.
    “So, what are we going to do first?” she asked. “Slot machines, dinner and dancing?”
    Vanessa’s smile dropped.
    “Oh God, sorry! I forgot about the chair.”
    I grabbed her hand. “It’s one of the things I love about you the most,” I said quietly. “You see me , not the chair. And you are so going dancing! I want to see you strut your stuff and shake your tush. No wimping out!”
    Vanessa knelt down on the hard polished floor and carefully wrapped her arms around me.
    “We’ll have an amazing time,” she said, then gave me a sly look. “And what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas. We’ll have to find you a hot guy.”
    I laughed and gestured to the chair. “I don’t think there’s much chance of that, and besides, did you forget about Collin?”
    Vanessa scrambled to her feet awkwardly. “Saint Collin? I wouldn’t dare forget about him.”
    I rolled my eyes at Vanessa’s nickname.
    “He’s not that bad!”
    “He’s a killjoy. Whenever I meet him I feel like I should go sit on the naughty step.”
    “You probably should,” I laughed.
    Then I sighed, remembering the argument before I left.
    “I think we’re kind of broken up at the moment.”
    “Kind of? What does that mean?”
    I explained the argument and watched Vanessa’s eyes flash with anger.
    “He really tried to stop you coming, even though he knew we’d be here?”
    I shrugged unhappily. “He said I was being selfish.”
    “What a prick!”
    “I don’t know, Ness. I wondered . . . maybe he’s right. He worries about me and . . .”
    “No, he’s not right,” Vanessa said emphatically. “He should be on your side.”
    “He is, it’s just . . .”
    “No, Laney! If you want to skydive out of an airplane, he should be helping you achieve your dreams, not telling you it’s too hard, too dangerous all of the time. It’s not his life—it’s yours.”
    “I know, but . . .”
    “No more buts unless they’re tight, sexy ones on a cowboy. Deal?”
    She held out her hand, and I shook it—she always made me smile.
    “Deal.”
    Half an hour later we were at the hotel and I felt like I could relax. My room was just as they’d said, with full disabled access. And they’d even found me a shower chair. I tipped the man who took me to my room and decided that if this standard kept up, I’d write to the hotel’s management to thank them.
    “He was cute,” said Vanessa, as she unpacked my clothes and toiletries. “Do you need any help getting ready?”
    “You’ve done enough,” I said gratefully.
    “Wrong answer,” Vanessa said with an arched eyebrow. “Do you need any help?”
    I smiled. “I’ll be fine. Thanks, sweetie.”
    Vanessa winked and blew a kiss, before sashaying out of the room. Jo would be arriving shortly, and we were all meeting in my room before going for a few drinks and hitting up the slot machines, then dinner and dancing.
    Or dinner and sitting.
    Five hours later, I was dragging.
    I’d won seven bucks and some change on the slots—woohoo!—then enjoyed a wonderful lobster dinner, before heading back to our hotel for dancing and more drinks.
    Vanessa and Jo were still going strong and I was determined not to spoil their evening by admitting I was tired.
    “Stop being a wimp,” I muttered to myself. “You’ve got the rest of your life to sleep—but right now you’re in Vegas!”
    I glanced back to the crowded dance floor, my eyes tracking my friends, smiling as a cowboy with a large Stetson and no rhythm staggered up behind Vanessa, trying to attract her attention as