Accidental Billionaire (2 page)

Logan smiled a slow smile. “Which way to my room?”

Tension pounded in her forehead, while excitement fluttered in her belly.

Tyler clapped Logan’s back, squeezed her shoulders, and let go. He strode down the hall. “This way, bud. Wait’ll you see the rest of this place. The Vegas studio hooked us up.” He paused, and his eyes brightened even more. “Bay, you can play your flute piece for Logan. He’s great with opinions on stuff like that.”

“Great.” That’s what she needed, a critique on top of her nervousness.

Logan took one step after Tyler, paused to scoop up the lotion square from the blanket, and returned to her. “Don’t forget this.” He coiled his hand around hers, gifting her the soggy square. He pressed her fingers over the sheet music and gently squeezed. “Evidently you need to practice.”

She raised her eyes to blast him, but the words didn’t come.

His expression said he had more to say, but his words didn’t spill out either. The moment was weird, charged, like electric coils connected them. She couldn’t have pulled away if she wanted to.

“Dude. Come on,” Tyler yelled from down the hall. “I can’t believe how long that crap boarding school kept y’all in for final term. Like senior year matters. That’s what you get for paying for school.”

Logan let go and Baylee used the moment to escape back to her room. She was going to practice her flute, and then do something fun. She was going site-seeing in Las Vegas: Venice, Rome, and Paris were waiting, Logan could enjoy his nap.

An hour later, practice done, Baylee came out of her room threading her hair through a ponytail holder. Tyler was sitting on the couch by a girl their age. He had on gym clothes and a pained expression. The girl wore a flowing lilac sundress with cascading dark purple ribbons down the side and an innocent expression. She handed Tyler a pair of neon purple lacy panties.

What the freak?
Baylee’s eyebrows arched on their own, and she stared at the drama on the couch. “What ya doing there, Tyler?”

“Ella works at the label; she brought in my fan mail.” Tyler jumped up, waving off the lingerie. “My fans love me beyond the boundaries. Their love can’t be contained.”

Baylee snorted.

Ella held up a matching neon purple bra.

“That’s so wrong,” Baylee said.

Ella glanced sideways at Tyler before nodding. “I open mail filled with all levels of wrong at the studio. And that’s only the physical mail. You won’t believe what I see online.”

“Scary.”

Tyler held out his palm. “Baylee Steele, meet Ella Aschen. Ella, meet Baylee.”

Ella was pretty, really pretty, and despite the questionable gift for Tyler, she seemed friendly. Ella slid open a brown bubble-coated envelope. She wrinkled her nose as a watermelon-striped thong wiggled free. She pinched the elastic-trimmed fabric between her thumb and forefinger. “Why would you pack cotton in bubble wrap?”

“Just write ‘return to sender’ on the envelope.” Baylee reached for the package and read aloud, “
From: Rina Ameen
. No, I think you should package it back up, and label it, ‘
To: the parents or legal guardians of Rina Ameen
.”

“Don’t mess with my fans, Baylee.” Tyler grinned at Ella. “As long as you keep Baylee in line, she can help you out with the mail.” He offered her services to Ella without asking. He knew she’d help. “Baylee’s joining the band, and fan mail’s a part of that.”

No. She was not joining the band. She’d told him that before. She would, however, record the ten seconds of fluting he seemed to think he needed on his next track. But she’d do it when she was fully ready, when she had it just right, when she wouldn’t let the band down.

Tyler stretched out his arms as if readying for a strenuous workout. “Baylee may as well get used to paperwork. It comes with the gig.” He looked at the stack, winced, and shot toward the door. “I’m going for a run. Catch you on the flipside.”

Baylee shook her head at his back. “I’m not joining the band,” she called after him, but the only response was the pinging of the penthouse elevator. She turned back to Ella. “But I will give you a hand. We can donate these to a used clothing shop. It’s Vegas; the G-strings will go before lunch.”

Ella scooped the letters and lingerie into a shoulder bag. “No problem. I was swinging by to say ‘hi’ to Logan, so I thought I’d bring the fan mail to Tyler while I was at it. Tyler likes to do a handful himself, for his fans, and I didn’t know if he’d want to respond to the crayon drawings or the X-rated unmentionables.”

Baylee narrowed her eyes and reached for her phone. She wasn’t above telling on him to his girlfriend. “What’d he go for?”

“He writes to a lot of his fans. But he keeps it G-rated.”

Good. Ella had mentioned Logan. How’d she know Logan? Were they dating? Was he dating anyone? Did he date? “Have you seen Logan?” Baylee kept her tone casual.

“Nope. Guess he’s not up.” Ella checked her smart phone. “I’m going to the airport next. Some friends from school are coming into town, sort of a post-graduation trip. So I’d better get going. Need a lift anywhere?”

“Yeah, thanks, if you don’t mind. The Venetian?” It wasn’t too far away, so she didn’t mind asking, and riding in a gondola at the Venetian casino was at the top of her site-seeing list.

“Absolutely,” Ella said.

They went out to the town car, which was chauffeured and belonged to the record label. They left right away, but the traffic had them crawling. Ella looked left down the palm tree lined street, checked the time on her phone and bit her lip.

Baylee easily read her concern that they’d be late. “I don’t mind if we have to go to the airport before you drop me off.”

Ella blew out a breath, and the anxious expression left her face. “Thanks. I’m picking up Nadine and Kira. And it’s best not to be late with those two.”

Baylee and Ella were waiting for Nadine and Kira’s luggage when a big black bag clogged the top of the baggage ramp. The bag was huge, dented, and had an extended selfie stick hanging from its broken zipper. There was no way it belonged to either Nadine or Kira. Baylee had known them for two minutes now, but it was easy to see that dented and worn wasn’t their style, nor was the stuff escaping from the zipper: denture cream and the edge of a floral housecoat. A bra slipped out next — a weekend bra, no underwire, full coverage. The strap caught on the extended selfie stick and dangled like a plea for peace.

Ella frowned and pursed her lips. Kira and Nadine snickered in superior unison. Kira was a pale redhead with freckles covered by makeup, and Nadine had very dark, shiny long hair and tan skin. Both were gorgeous. Was one of them seeing Logan?

“Didn’t you arrange a porter?” Nadine asked.

Ella looked around with big eyes. “I’m sure there’s one here somewhere.”

Kira unfastened a button on her cheetah-print blouse. “Has anyone else gotten here? We can’t be the first of our group? It’d be sad, like showing up first to the party.”

“Ella’s here first. Not us.” Nadine smoothed her red silk blouse. She didn’t ask who else was there, but her intentness said she was interested in Ella’s answer. From the way they were unconsciously primping, they were curious about which guys had arrived.

Ella’s eyes got impossibly bigger, and she gave a slight shake of her head at Baylee. The look said,
don’t tell them Logan’s in town
. The warning eased Baylee for some reason. If either of these two had been Logan’s girlfriend, she’d have already known he was in town, so that meant Logan might be free. Free like Baylee, just two unattached new graduates who longed to ride a gondola at the Venetian together…maybe she’d wait for the gondola ride until he could go…it was a date kind of thing anyway, right?

The broken bag shifted downward and stopped at the mouth of the carousel.

The old lady beside her, wearing too much rose perfume and a T-shirt with
Bingo Granny
written on the front, pointed at the stuck bag. “That’s my bag.” She looked at Baylee expectantly with faded blue eyes. The same look the shift supervisor Jose gave her at the lizard factory when it was her turn to unclog the conveyer belt. Oh no. She didn’t work here. She’d left unwanted jobs behind in Texas.

Bingo Granny’s eyes bugged with the skill of seventy years of getting her own way.

Ergh. Fine
. “Watch my purse, please.” Baylee handed her bag to Ella and climbed to the side of the carousel.

“What are you doing?” Nadine sounded appalled and judgy, and a hint delighted all in one.

Baylee ignored her.

“Look at her go. Get it, girl,” Kira said.

Baylee ignored her, too. She balanced on the edge and stretched toward the surrendering bag. She tugged at the corner.

Nothing.

Another arriving bag plopped into the side, wedging the suitcase harder.

She yanked at the plastic wheel.

Nothing.

The bag was straight up stuck. The hole in the zipper widened. A white sock, tinged pink from the wash, slipped out. There was something oddly sad about the lone sock being carried away on the sliding gray blades of the carousel. But not as embarrassing as what was pending, which was basically every other item the old lady had packed. Her stuff bulged at the hole, threatening to spill the full contents from the failed zipper.

“Pull harder.” A crotchety voice came from one of her fellow passengers. Nothing better than advice from the sidelines.

“You’re not supposed to be up there.” More helpful advice from a passenger who wasn’t helping.

There were female snickers, and she didn’t have to turn around to know they were from Nadine and Kira. Could she like Ella if she didn’t like her two friends? Maybe. Though honestly, if she were the one on the ground floor, she might be snickering, too, so she’d give them a chance.

The bag smelled of mothballs and medical disinfectant, and it wasn’t budging. The selfie stick, however, might be the key. While they were banned from the halls of her alma mater, she knew the principle behind the thing. Telescoping extension. She stretched across the bag like a starfish and grasped the end. The thin metal shoved in on itself.

Whoosh.

The bag dropped, hit her legs, and took her down with it.

Baylee’s weight plopped flat on the big bag, and she spun down the ramp to the bumper. Her arm and tennis shoe scraped along the side, forcing her to pull them straight in a sort of Superman pose. She surfed along on chomping, metallic waves that squeaked and chugged, while the pinging slot machines lining baggage claim provided an additional soundtrack.

Okay.

This is happening.

“Hey. You,” a porter said in a heavy Hispanic accent. “You can’t be up there.”

Now he arrives?

The stocky Hispanic man stood behind the
Welcome to Las Vegas
sign, frowning and jerking his thumb in a backward motion.

A red bulb flashed, and the belt rolled to a stop. The porter gripped her arms and pulled her up and over the side as if she weighed less than the bag and wasn’t a foot taller than him. “You teenagers.”

Like she’d wanted to go bag surfing.

He hauled Bingo Granny’s stuff down next, using one hand. The selfie stick poked her knee in a final farewell jab.

Bingo Granny rushed over. “That’s my bag.” She tipped the porter a dollar, and then she frowned. “For heaven’s sake, that’s not my bag after all.” She checked the conveyer belt and pointed to another massive black bag.

Baylee wobbled toward the trio of girls. Ella was smiling, while Nadine and Kira had stepped back and were looking away as if they didn’t know her. Baylee remembered a time two days ago when her own suitcase with its lizard factory logo stitched on the side was the most embarrassing part of her time at the airport. Those were proud times.

Kira pointed to a designer yellow bag. “That one’s mine.” She lifted her palms to the air for no discernible reason. “They call me mellow yellow.”

Ella mouthed, “No, we don’t.”

“Finally. That one’s mine.” Nadine pointed to a brown leather case with gold trim and an ostentatious logo.

The two arched their brows and looked expectantly at Ella and Baylee. Ella rushed over and grabbed one of the cases. Irritation made Baylee want to say she didn’t work for them, but she wanted to help Ella more so she kept her mouth shut. She dragged mellow yellow over the edge. The weight strained her arm, and she resisted the urge to let the side drag against the bumper.

Leaving a small bit of unrecoverable dignity behind, she strode through the crowd of eager new twenty-one-year-olds under flapping ads for casino buffets and theatrical shows toward the private parking. Kira talked the whole way, Nadine made snide comments, and Ella tried to keep the peace. It wasn’t hard to figure out their dynamic and they held their roles all the way to their center strip high-rise hotel.

Ella dropped them off with two gift baskets they didn’t seem to want and got back in the limo. The driver brought several other baskets around from the trunk and placed them in the backseat, which said Ella had more pickups ahead of her. Baylee didn’t volunteer to help with those. Ella touched the handle of one of the larger baskets where an
I-Heart-Las Vegas
T-shirt draped over a guidebook.
Vegas Couture.

Couture, not a word she’d heard much in Leithville. “Looks fun.”

Ella gave her a big grin. “Thanks. I’ll have one sent to your room.”

“Oh no, I didn’t mean…”

“I’m happy to.”

“Thanks.” Baylee eyed the packet of popcorn in the basket and slicked her tongue over her teeth, newly free of braces. Popcorn was such a good idea. Gourmet treat, air-puffed diet portion, or sweet dessert – popcorn was the chameleon of the snack food world and she loved it. The trip was looking up.

The car took them further down the main drag. The strip was bordered on both sides by huge themed casinos, and crowds of tourists in shorts and T-shirts moved along the sidewalks. They had crowds like this in Leithville, on Friday nights for football games and in the five-minute rush between classes. Not something she’d have to worry about anymore, because she’d graduated. No more high school ever. Amazing.