by Amber Crewes
“Oh, yes,” he greeted them warmly. “I’m your receptionist, Todd Sherman. I’ll be handling any issues or questions you may have during your stay.”
“He seems nice,” Myrtle whispered to Meghan.
“At least something about this dump is good,” Meghan agreed.
Todd answered their questions and got them checked in. “And if you need anything, don’t hesitate to let me know.”
Jackie smiled at him and nodded, batting her eyelashes flirtatiously. “Thank you for your help.”
She turned to the ladies and smiled at them. “I know this isn’t the Plaza Hotel,” she began. “But it will be perfect for our trip; the receptionist, Todd, is so nice... and cute... and he’ll help us with anything we need.”
“I can tell she’s going to try to sneak a date in with him,” Karen whispered to Meghan.
“I have something for all of you,” Jackie continued as she zipped open her hot pink suitcase to reveal small pink party bags. “These are welcome gifts. Open them!”
She passed out a bag to each woman, a huge grin on her face. “Open them on the count of three. One... two... three!”
Everyone tore open their bag and pulled out a hot pink t-shirt. “They’re matching party shirts!” Jackie cried in excitement. “One for each of us, and then a special one for Meghan! Put them on! We’ll wear them out so everyone knows we’re a bachelorette party!”
The ladies’ shirts were hot pink and said BRIDESBABES in loopy cursive writing. Meghan saw Myrtle cringe, but she obediently put the shirt on over her maroon overalls.
“Meghan, look at yours!” Jackie commanded, and Meghan unfolded the white t-shirt. The font matched the other ladies’, but it said ATTENTION! YOU’RE IN THE PRESENCE OF A PRINCESS BRIDE on the front. On the back were two angel wings painted on, and the bottom of the shirt had a frilly white tulle tutu attached.
She felt her cheeks burn as everyone stared at her; the shirt was horrendous, but she knew she would have to put it on. “It’s nice,” she choked as she slipped it on. “Thanks, Jackie.”
“Anything for you!” Jackie sang as she pulled Meghan into a hug.
Meghan stiffened in Jackie’s hug, but then, she noticed Mrs. Sheridan was pointing out the front window of the lobby.
“Mrs. Sheridan?” she asked as she broke away from Jackie. “What’s wrong?”
“Look, everyone,” Mrs. Sheridan screeched. “He’s alive! He’s alive!”
Meghan looked at Myrtle and Karen in concern. “What is she talking about?”
Mrs. Sheridan’s jaw dropped. “The King,” she whispered as though she were in a trance. “The King! He’s alive. He’s alive!”
4
I n walked a man dressed in an Elvis Presley costume. He wore a white jumpsuit, aviator sunglasses, and his jet-black hair styled just as Elvis’ had been in his prime. Mrs. Sheridan screamed as she hobbled over to him and jumped into his arms. “I knew you were alive! I knew it!”
The Elvis impersonator grinned as he lowered Mrs. Sheridan to the ground. “The King could never die,” he assured her as he winked at the group. “Music never dies, and neither do I!”
Mrs. Sheridan clapped her hands excitedly like a schoolgirl. “Would you sing for us?” she begged. “Sing Hound Dog! That’s my favorite.”
He smoothed his black hair away from his face and flashed a toothy smile at Mrs. Sheridan. “Anything for you, baby doll.”
He broke into song, and Mrs. Sheridan closed her eyes and swayed along. Meghan had never seen her like this, and she chuckled as Mrs. Sheridan sang. When he finished his song, he batted his eyes at Myrtle. “What are you pretty girls here in Vegas for, anyway?”
Jackie pushed her way to the front of the group. “A bachelorette party!” she squealed. “Our friend is getting married... but I’m single!!”
He bit his lip and raised his eyebrows. “I’m happy to hear that you’re single,” he told her as Mrs. Sheridan fanned herself in excitement. “Who is the lucky lady who is getting married?”
Meghan raised her hand half-heartedly. “Me,” she said. “I’m getting married.”
The Elvis impersonator turned to her and shook her hand. “Congratulations,” he wished her. “I wasn’t the best at marriage… just ask Priscilla, my former wife… but from the looks of you, I’m sure you’ll do just fine.”
Jackie tapped his shoulder. “Mr. Presley, do you give private shows? I’d love to set something up... for my friend’s party... could we exchange numbers?”
“It’s only been five minutes and she’s trying to get someone’s number,” Myrtle giggled quietly to Meghan.
He shook his head. “I don’t do private shows, but I do have a standing set at The Venetian. I play every afternoon from two to three. You ladies should drop by.”
“We would love that!” Jackie exclaimed.
“We’ll be there today!” Mrs. Sheridan shouted joyously.
He winked. “Let me have my assistant give you tickets. Earl? Earl, come over here now!”
Meghan was shocked by how rudely he had spoken to his assistant, but she said nothing.
A stout man with thick wire glasses came over to them and produced an envelope from his vest. “I carry extra tickets around in case I meet pretty fans like you,” he told the group as Earl gave him the envelope. “Here are tickets for the show this afternoon. I think you’ll enjoy it.”
Jackie nodded. “And in case we have issues? Can I get your business card?”
The impersonator licked his lips. “Of course,” he told her as he pulled a silver card from his jumpsuit. “For you.”
“Jeremiah Wilson,” Jackie whispered. “I’m Jackie. It’s nice to meet you.”
Jeremiah bowed to Jackie, waved to the ladies, and then turned on his heel to leave. “Earl, let’s go. We’re running late because of you. Hurry up.”
Meghan was again taken aback by Jeremiah’s tone, but she brushed it off, eager to get up to her room and rest a bit before they began their first day in Las Vegas.
After resting and relaxing in their rooms, it was time to go to the show. The ladies walked down the street to The Venetian, the luxury hotel that housed Jeremiah’s show.
“I could have been happy staying here,” Myrtle commented to Meghan as they walked into the ornate lobby.
It was like they had been transported to the finest hotel in Venice; there were paintings on the ceiling, marble pillars in every corner, expensive-looking furniture, and all the trappings of a luxury hotel.
“I wouldn’t have minded splurging to stay here,” Meghan agreed.
They followed small gold-plated signs to the theater and took their seats. Meghan reached into her purse and pulled out a small Tupperware container. Pamela had packed some snacks for the trip, and she happily dove into a serving of rhubarb pie.
“I want some,” Myrtle told her, but Meghan brushed her off.
“I’m the PRINCESS BRIDE, remember?” she teased her sister. “The pie is ALL mine.”
At exactly two in the afternoon, Jeremiah took the stage.
“He’s gorgeous,” Mrs. Sheridan announced loudly as other members of the audience laughed. “That Priscilla let a good one get away from her!”
Jeremiah, dressed in a blue jumpsuit and matching sunglasses, held a red electric guitar. “I’m gonna need a pretty lady to come up here and sing with me,” he declared as the crowd whooped. Mrs. Sheridan waved her arms frantically, and Jackie stood up and waved. “I know there’s a bachelorette party in the house tonight. Let’s get the bachelorette herself to come up here and sing!”
Meghan’s body grew hot, and she felt the blood rush to her head. She had no desire to go on stage, but her friends and sister were cheering her on. She rose from her seat and walked to the little metal stairs at the front of the stage, still holding her Tupperware dish of pie. Mrs. Sheridan followed along behind her. “I’m coming, and no one can stop me!”
The two women arrived on stage, and Jeremiah sloppily wrapped an arm around
Meghan’s shoulders. “Thanks for coming, ladies.”
Meghan brushed him off, and Mrs. Sheridan took her place. “Thanks for having us,” she batted her eyelashes.
The crowd cheered, and Meghan stared at Jeremiah’s face. It was red and sweaty, and she heard him slur his speech as he waved the microphone in Mrs. Sheridan’s face. “Is he drunk?” she thought to herself.
He came back to Meghan, and he placed an arm around her waist to pull her closer. “Baby girl, can I have a bite of that pie?”
She shrugged him off, and he reached a finger into her container, taking a bite of her pie. “Yum, delicious, just like you,” he trailed off.
He began to sing, and Mrs. Sheridan clapped her hands. Meghan noticed how awkward his movements were; he looked like a broken puppet. In the middle of the song, his voice broke, and he collapsed on the stage.
Mrs. Sheridan screamed. “What’s going on? Is this part of the show?”
Meghan bent down to check his pulse as the crowd began to panic. “We need some help here!”
Earl, the assistant, dashed onto the stage. He threw himself on top of Jeremiah, and his face paled. “He’s dead,” Earl declared with a haunted look on his face. “The King is dead. Elvis is dead!”
5
“T his is the worst trip ever,” Trudy complained as the women walked back to the hotel. “First, the hotel is trash, and now, Elvis died in the middle of the show? What’s next, Jackie? Are they gonna haul one of us off to jail or something?”
Meghan had been thinking the same thing, but she was happy that someone else verbalized it. She didn’t want to sound ungrateful; she knew Jackie had spent time and money organizing the trip, but a getaway to Las Vegas was truly the last thing she had wanted, and now, they were in the midst of a tragedy!
It was late afternoon now, and the sun was beating down on the women. “This t-shirt doesn’t fit right,” Mrs. Sheridan complained as she pawed at herself. “Jackie, you didn’t get the size I asked for. I wanted a medium, not an extra small.”
“That must be mine,” Myrtle commented as she tugged at the end of her shirt. “I wanted the extra small.”
Jackie’s shoulders slumped. “I just can’t do anything right, can I?” she lamented as they turned a corner and spotted their shabby lodging. “I tried my best, guys. Organizing a bachelorette party isn’t easy, and it’s not like I had a lot of help.”
Karen interjected. “That isn’t quite the case,” she said. “I offered to help and to pay for a trip to the beach; Meghan has always wanted to go to the Florida Keys, and I believe I mentioned that several times…”
Trudy nodded. “I told you Vegas wouldn’t be the place for her,” she told Jackie. “You wouldn’t listen.”
Myrtle wrapped an arm around Meghan’s shoulder. “Don’t listen to them,” she whispered. “Their squabbling is stressful, and you don’t need stress right now before your wedding. How about this: if the party hasn’t improved by Sunday night, we’ll do a sister trip and make that your real trip? What do you think?”
Meghan leaned into her sister. “You’re the best. Have I ever told you that?”
“Just a time or two or three,” Myrtle replied with a smile on her face.
They arrived at the hotel, and the group went inside the lobby. “I hope Todd is here,” Jackie told them as she adjusted her hair. “He’ll be so upset to hear about the trauma we went through today!”
Myrtle rolled her eyes. “That girl…”
Mrs. Sheridan began to cry. “This was the last place I saw him alive and well,” she wailed as she placed a hand dramatically on her heart. “The King was here, and now, he’s gone.”
Jackie sashayed up to the desk and rang the bell. A thin-faced woman appeared. “Is Todd in?” Jackie asked.
“No,” she answered shortly. “His shift is over.”
“Okay,” Jackie replied. “Will he be back tomorrow?”
“How should I know?” the woman answered, snapping her gum and giving Jackie attitude. “I’m not the boss of him.”
“Got it,” Meghan said briskly. “Let’s go, ladies.”
The women retired to their rooms. Meghan slammed the door behind her and locked it; she was happy to have time away from the group. She was exhausted from the day’s events; from the early flight, to the encounter with Jeremiah, to his unexpected death on stage at the show. She was ready for her bachelorette party to be over.
Meghan peeled the comforter off of the twin bed; disappointed at how it looked and felt, and she threw the blanket into a corner. She pulled her cell phone out of her purse and called Jack.
“Hey, babe!” he greeted her. “How is the party? Where are you girls?”
“Jackie brought us to Vegas,” she said in a low voice. “It’s awful, my love. The motel is gross, everyone is in a bad mood, and she bought this ridiculous shirt for me to wear.”
Jack laughed. “You aren’t really the bachelorette party type,” he commented as Meghan sighed. “Jackie should have known that.”
“She planned a great party for Jackie,” she told her fiancé. “But this isn’t what I want.”
“I have an idea,” Jack said. “Why don’t you stick it out today? If you wake up tomorrow and want to come home, I’ll buy a one-way ticket for you. Does that help?”
Meghan smiled. Jack always wanted to save the day, and she appreciated his eagerness to help. “It does,” she confirmed. “That makes it a lot better; you’re telling me that if I make it through the next twelve hours or so, I can come home.”
“That’s right,” he agreed. “It sounds like it can’t get much worse, so do your best to stick it out. I’m sure by the time you wake up tomorrow, you’ll be rested and feeling better, and you won’t even want to come home!”
Jack was wrong. Things got much worse; after they bid each other farewell and hung up the phone, Meghan was going to settle in for a nap when she heard a shrill scream. She grunted as she rose from the bed and peeked into the hallway to see what was the matter.
She was shocked to find Mrs. Sheridan flailing her arms. “Stay in your room, Meghan!” she ordered as she danced from left foot to right foot. “Don’t come out here!”
Meghan ignored the order and stepped into the hallway. She was shocked to see a police officer shaking her head at her. “Ma’am, I’m going to need you to step back inside your room.”
“What’s going on?”
“Meghan! Call my lawyer. Call Frank!” Mrs. Sheridan cried as the officer placed handcuffs on her wrists.
“What is going on?” Meghan asked again.
“You need to step back inside,” the officer advised. “Or we are going to arrest you as well.”
“You’re arresting her?” Meghan replied in shock. “For what? What did she do? We’ve only been here for a few hours.”
The officer looked Meghan in the eye. “She knows what she did,” she stated firmly. “And she’s going to need a lawyer as soon as possible.”
6
J ackie burst into the hall as Mrs. Sheridan was led away. “What’s going on?” she cried.
“I have no idea,” Meghan told her. “But they’re taking her down to the station! We need to go get her out.”
Karen opened her door. “What is the ruckus about?” she grumbled. “I am trying to practice mindfulness, but you are all being too loud.”
“They took her away!” Jackie announced dramatically. “The police came and took Mrs. Sheridan off to jail!”
Meghan shook her head. “Not quite,” she informed Karen. “They came and took her away, but they didn’t say they are putting her in jail.”
Karen frowned. “Why did the police come?”
Meghan shrugged. “We don’t know, but I think we need to go to the station as soon as we can. We need to make sure she is okay.”
“I’ll go,” Jackie offered. “Meghan, let’s take a taxi down there.”
“I’ll hold down the fort here,” Karen said. “You girls should go now.”
Forty-five minutes later, the taxi pulled up outside of the police station. “That will be fifty-three dollars,” the driver told them.
Meghan nodded and looked at Jackie. “Are you going to pay?”
Jackie’s eyes widened. “I don’t have my wallet,” she whispered. “We left in such a rush that I forgot it.”
“Of course you did,” Meghan muttered as she pulled her credit card out of her wallet and paid the driver.
They walked inside the station and ventured to the front desk. “We’re here to see Sally Sheridan,” Jackie told the receptionist. “I’m Jackie, and this is Meghan Truman.”
“One moment, please.”
The receptionist picked up a silver phone and made a hushed call. “The officers would like to speak with you two as well.”
“WHAT?” Meghan asked in alarm. “Are we in trouble?”
A tall African American officer approached them. “Meghan? Jackie? I’m Officer Brady. Come this way, please.”
They obediently followed him to a small room with three folding chairs and a metal table.
“What’s the problem, Officer Brady?” Meghan asked. “My fiancé is a detective... I know how this works. Are we being detained?”
He shook his head. “I can’t answer any questions, but I need to ask you a few things,” he explained. “What are you doing in Las Vegas?”
“It’s her bachelorette party!” Jackie declared, pointing her finger at Meghan. “She’s getting married, and we are here with a group of women. We’re innocently celebrating our friend.”
Meghan cringed, wishing Jackie hadn’t used the word “innocently”, knowing it would only make the officer more suspicious.
“Is that true?” he asked Meghan.
She held up her left hand and flashed her engagement ring. “It’s true, Officer Brady. This is my bachelorette weekend.”
He pulled out his walkie-talkie and whispered something into it. A door opened, and Mrs. Sheridan walked in. “My friends,” she cried as she hobbled over to them. “I am so happy to see you. You came to bust this girl out!”
