Sorry, been too long. Anyway, I started on the wrong track with this writing exercise, so I think you may be witnessing the birth of a novella…..
He walked through the doors of the casino into the wall of blazing heat and light which the hotel owners try and remove all trace of by making their gaming halls dark and air conditioned to almost Arctic conditions. It hit him like a strong right cross from a prize-fighter, his loud Hawaiian print shirt sticking to him instantly, but the girl just swanned out and waited for him, hand on her hip, like there was no discernable difference. She was good, he’d give her that.
‘Your place or mine?’
‘Erm….’ He hadn’t quite got this far in his finely honed plan, assuming that he’d have to work at her and have time to build up an idea of how she rolled. ‘Yours?’
And she was off again, striding towards a cherry red Mustang. The engine was revving impatiently before he had time to think that this was all going a bit too well. At least the car would have AC.
She drove at speed in short bursts between the lights on the Strip, weaving in and out of the traffic like a Nascar driver. He gripped his seat, gritted his teeth and watched the lights flash by, smiling wanly. When she pulled up at the valet parking bay of the Wynne and got out, tossing her keys to a waistcoated lackey, he was confused. But he didn’t have time to collect his thoughts because she was striding away from him again into the casino, and he knew that if he lost her there then there would be no chance to find her again. What he was trying to get straight in his head as he did a passable impression of an awe-inspired tourist was why she was bringing him to the newest, fanciest hotel in Las Vegas, and why he had been told to find her in what was probably the crummiest.
She was just getting into an elevator when he caught up with her, having legged it past the designer shops and implausibly-priced restaurants, and he squeezed through the doors just as they were closing.
