Page 55 of The Friends and Rivals Collection

The flight attendant stops at our row, batting her glittery blue eyelids at us, her twin pigtails bouncing. “Would you like a Super Saver Cola? A Super Saver Diet Cola? Or a fresh bottle of delicious water?”

With a straight face, Nolan views the offerings in her case. The cans are silver with black writing—in Comic Sans. They look so... fake. “So many choices.”

The attendant smiles wanly.

Nolan’s shrug translates to why not take a free drink . “I’ll have a Diet Cola, please.”

“Water for me,” I add.

“Great. That’ll be twenty dollars.”

Whoa. Those are hotel minibar prices. Must have heard her wrong. “Excuse me,” I say warily. “Did you say twenty dollars? Are you sure?”

She nods decisively. “Yes, ten dollars a drink. If you want ice, it’s five dollars extra.”

Hold all the horses.

“You charge for the ice,” Nolan says staccato, each word laden with the full weight of shock.

“Yes, we do. Because ice is cool,” she says blandly, like that’s her go-to line every single time because she probably says it to every single passenger.

I guess this is how Super Saver Airlines can afford to have such cheap tickets.

“Thanks, but I’ll pass,” I say.

She lifts her case higher to show us some snack bags. Each is plain white with bold writing. “Want some pretzels?”

“What’s the damage on those bad boys?” Nolan asks.

“Fifteen a bag,” she says.

He whistles. “A veritable bargain.”

Damn. This snack racket would pay off my loans in no time.

But there goes the airplane food review plan.

I won’t spend that much for a shtick, and neither will Nolan.

I didn’t know about my best friend’s solitaire good luck habit, but I’d bet all my makeup brushes he’ll turn down the ridiculously priced snacks.

“No, thanks,” Nolan says.

Yup. I was right.

“Let me know if you change your minds,” the flight attendant says, then peers across me to the guy in the window seat.

The Drakkar Noir guy comes alive, his salacious eyes sailing up to the attendant. “I’ll take your number, sweetheart,” he says in a voice thicker than a shag carpet.

“That’s not for sale. But the pretzels are good,” she says wearily, like she’s heard it a million times from guys doused in too much cologne.

Drakkar Noir doesn’t hesitate. He fishes a couple bills from his wallet and thrusts them to her. “And a cola too.”

“Great,” she says, then hands him the goodies and continues down the aisle.

I stare wistfully at his drink for a second, then turn back to Nolan and rasp like I’m crawling across the sand in the desert, “So... thirsty...”

“Try to hold on, soldier. We’ll stop at a 7-Eleven after we land. We can review the Slurpees and pretzels there.”

“Not. Sure. If. I. Can. Make. It.” I drop my head onto his shoulder.

He pats my head.

That’s sort of nice and comforting.

What if he stroked my hair, though? Would nice and comforting level up to yummy and enticing?

“We’re about to die!”

I jerk my head to the high-pitched shriek from the back of the plane. “Who said that?” I squeak out.

There’s a squawk, then a cry of, “Man overboard!”

I crane my neck to peer past Nolan, checking out the aisle then the galley. I’m not the only one. The other passengers chatter, trying to make heads and tails of the warning.

Everything looks fine, so who’s screeching maydays? “What’s going on?”

“Get out your life vest,” the voice calls out.

Nolan’s brow crinkles, and he taps his lip. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but does that sound like a parrot?”

Ohh.

Actually, he’s dead right.

Contorting like a rhythmic gymnast in a heist flick, I swivel around and manage to peek over the top of the seat toward the back of the plane.

Turns out the metal crates contain parrots. Inside one of them, a bird with emerald feathers flaps his wings. “That’s what she said.”

A sapphire bird bleats, “A guy walks into a bar.”

I slump into my tiny seat with a groan that slides into laughter. “We’re on a flight with the punchline parrots.”

Drakkar Noir clears his scratchy throat.

“It costs three hundred bucks to fly an animal in its own seat on this airline. Pretty cool, huh? I guess that’s how these seats can be so cheap.

” He pats his cushion. “By the way, I’m Arnie.

Those parrots are performing at my comedy club off the Strip tonight if you want to come. The Parrot Club.”

That’s a little on the nose.

“If you want to come,” a bird squawks, echoing Arnie.

“That’s what she said,” another one says.

“So saucy,” I say.

“What time is the show?” Nolan asks.

“Ten p.m.”

I glance at Nolan with a face that asks, Are we going to a parrot comedy night ? The look he fires back says, Damn straight.

“We very well might be there,” I tell Arnie.

That ought to keep us busy after the party. Lord knows my brain needs busy work when I’m in close confines with my hot, funny, charming best friend, who I still want to kiss like crazy.

The ruddy man at the rental car kiosk points from Nolan to me and asks, “And are you and your friend...?”

The trailing question is annoying. I’m a woman traveling with her best guy friend. So there.

“She’s my nanny,” Nolan supplies.

I swat the troublemaker.

“I meant babysitter,” he says quickly.

I roll my eyes. “I’m actually his billionaire boss,” I tell the clerk. “And he’s my plucky but undervalued assistant who sends me secret hate letters that I think are sexy.”

The man stares at us humorlessly. “I don’t care if you’re pen pals or mortal enemies. I only ask because if you’re spouses, there’s a discount.”

“That seems unfair to single people,” I point out. “Does this car company discriminate against the unmarried?”

He sighs. He so utterly can’t even with me. “Lady, I don’t have time for bigger battles. I was trying to help you out. If you tell me you’re married, I’ll give you the discount.”

“Someone’s a fairy godfather,” I say, smile blazing.

“Not really. I get two percent on husband-wife signings.”

And he’s a hustler too. Gotta respect that, I suppose.

I tilt my chin up at Nolan. “Hey, hubs.”

He drapes an arm around me and plants a loud, wet kiss on my cheek. “Hey, wifey.”

“Wonderful,” the man replies, already typing it in.

Nolan keeps his arm around me as we finish the paperwork. Settle down, Nancy. We are simply friends who travel together to cities where we once kissed. And we’re even better friends for a discount.

Who wouldn’t be?

A deal is hard to resist.

We cruise down the highway toward the hotel I located on a budget travel site online.

When I made our travel plans, I couldn’t find any rooms at even the cheapest hotels on the Strip.

Apparently, there’s a cell phone convention in town, and those phone-makers love the City of Sin.

So, we’re headed for a place a couple of miles from the Strip.

Maybe we won’t even have rooms near each other. A little distance between us when night falls will surely keep Nancy in check. Maybe.

Nolan drives, following the directions to the Teddy Bear Inn. As he slows the car, the word “vacancy” beckons from the hotel’s street sign, though without the “va.”

“Get your cancy s here,” I say as Nolan flips on the blinker.

“I’ve always wanted a cancy ,” he quips, pulling into a parking space.

“You’re gonna have everything your heart desires tonight, then,” I tease.

Teasing is good.

Teasing is us.

I’ve so got this.

I sling on my backpack, and we head to the lobby. It’s everything the broken-ass sign outside promised. A clogged drain belches near the entryway. Room 102 has a pile of stained towels sitting outside the door. The glass window to the lobby is fogged and cracked.

We are slumming it, but hey, more money for the food offerings for the grandmas.

When I push open the lobby door, a bell announces our arrival, though it’s less like a chime, more like a buzz saw. Behind the front desk, a burly man with beady eyes rips off a hunk of a Red Vines and smacks his lips loudly as he chews. “Wazz up?”

“Hey there. We want to check in,” Nolan says.

“Cool. Check-in’s at three,” the man says, pointing to the clock.

“That’s in, like, two minutes, man,” Nolan says amiably, giving his best help me out here, bud grin.

“Exactly.” The man takes another bite of the licorice like he’s ripping off a chunk of gazelle for dinner and stares at Nolan as he chews.

One hundred twenty seconds later, the man finishes his snack and pushes his Red Vines tub to the other side of the desk. Pasting on a cheery grin, he seems to transform as he says, “And now how can I help you?”

“Surprisingly, we wanted to check in,” Nolan says.

“Excellent. What an absolute delight to have you here at the Teddy Bear Inn.”

A few minutes later, he hands us each a key to our thirty-nine dollars-a-night rooms. “You two will be right next to each other. And if you need anything, the rooms adjoin too. Just rap on the door next to the TV, and it’s almost like a portal to the other room.”

“Sounds exactly like a portal. Not almost,” I correct.

Oops.

That was the dick in me talking.

“We like to make some things easy,” Red Vines man whispers, then gives an exaggerated wink.

Dude, a portal to the man I daydream about isn’t making my life easy.

Being in Vegas isn’t erasing my wandering thoughts.

Sleeping near Nolan won’t settle my pulse.

But we’re here for business, so we head down the hall together. “Meet you in an hour to begin our journey,” I say to Nolan, then unlock the door to my room, grateful we aren’t sharing one since who needs that temptation?

Not me.

Definitely not me.