Page 55 of Little Sunshine

News coverage about new hotels or remodels.

Reruns of Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous.

If it involved Vegas—but especially the Strip—they watched.

Just not for the same reason.

My nan loathed everything Vegas stood for. It wasn’t only because it was packed with all seven of the deadly sins—with many more added for good measure. She hated even the mundane.

The heat.

The traffic.

The various trees and plants.

The street layouts.

The surrounding areas.

When I was a kid, I used to wonder why she didn’t move away. When I got a little older, I understood.

She loved to hate it.

To complain.

To clutch her Bible and fake pearls as she bemoaned all the sinners from her position as a self-appointed saint.

Moving would take that from her.

Like most things, my mother was the exact opposite of her own mother. All the reasons Nan had hated Vegas were exactly why Veronica loved it.

She lived for the glitz and glamor. She’d raptly watch each show and special, going on about how it was her future. How she deserved it. She couldn’t keep track of picture day or parent-teacher conferences—or even if I’d eaten that day—but she could tell you every last detail about her big plans.

Where she’d stay.

Where she’d eat.

What pool she’d lounge by when that was her life.

Not our life.

Hers.

Even at a young age, I’d picked up that exclusion. Yet I’d still eagerly savored that time with her. I would make mental notes of what I’d watched with my nan so I could tell Veronica about it. I would hang on her every word like she’d weaved a fanciful fairy tale and not lies with a hefty side of delusions.

So while my firsthand experience in luxury hotels was nonexistent, I’d seen enough on TV to know that most of those extravagant rooms were a dumpster compared to Ash’s guest room.

Or so he’d claimed.

Because the more I looked around, the more I was sure it was his bedroom.

The furniture, doors, and molding were the same dark, rich wood. The matching slatted headboard was pushed against a textured black wall, contrasting with the cool blue of the other walls and bedding. The bed itself was massive. I didn’t even know they made them that big.

The owner was stupidly tall, so it made sense his bed would be, too.

Across from the bed was a wide, raw brick pillar with a fireplace and mounted TV. I circled the pillar to find a whole other freaking room with two insanely comfortable-looking armchairs and walls lined with stocked bookshelves.

The fireplace was viewable from either side and looked like the best place to spend a rainy day.

---