You Were Meant for Vegas

The loud alarm went off and everyone rushed to the slots. People clapped and covered their mouths as the red light flashed. The person who won was squealing so loud I couldn't tell if it was a man or a woman. Someone nearby was grumbling under their breath because they had just given up on that machine.

That's Vegas, baby.

Everyone had abandoned my table, so I took this as an opportunity to see the lucky winner. It was a rarity for someone to win the million. I approached the ringing slot machine as the winner danced around and my boss began to walk toward the machine, angry look etched into his face.

The winner was a young man, if he could even pass as a man with such young features. He had deep brunette hair and brown doe eyes. He was particularly handsome, and I wondered why a girlfriend wasn't dancing along with him.

"Ah, our lucky winner!" Mr. Hickman said with a fake smile. He reached out to shake the winner's hand.

"I-It's a pleasure t-to meet y-you, s-sir!" stammered the brunette beauty.

"Call me David, son," Mr. Hickman said, putting an arm around the man and leading him away as one of Mr. Hickman's tagalongs turned the alarm off, "what's your name?"

"B-Brendon. B-Brendon Urie."

"Well Mr. Urie, this is a large transaction, and will take a little while. Do you care to play our tables while you wait?"

"I-I don't know sir...I-I'm not good at t-tables..."

"Nonsense!" Mr. Hickman urged, pushing Brendon toward me and looking at my nametag, "Ryley, take this man over to your table. Take good care of him, would ya?"

"It's Ryan, sir," I corrected.

"What? Oh, yeah, right. Bryan, take Mr. Urie to your table."

Mr. Hickman stomped off, his tagalongs following him. I turned to Brendon and smiled at him as I led him towards my table. He hesitantly sat down and I stood up. People ran towards the table, the high rollers excited to play blackjack with someone who would put good bets out since he just won a million dollars.

"Game's blackjack. Anyone not know the game?" I asked. Brendon looked up at me with questioning eyes. The high rollers just snorted as though only a moron didn't know blackjack.

"Alright, first one at twenty-one or closer to twenty-one wins. You cannot go over. No secrets, either. I want your second card flipped when it's your turn. Make your bets. Then it's dealer's play."

All of the high rollers placed high bets. One of them went as high as five thousand, but that was not unusual. Everyone thought they knew the tables. Nobody knew the tables but the dealer and Mr. Hickman. Nobody won at the tables. I've worked here for two years and I do not remember any flukes were somebody won a large amount of money at the tables. Mr. Hickman made us let them win fifty here, a hundred and fifty there, but that was simply so the cops didn't start looking around at the facility.

I dealt two cards to everyone, one flipped, one face down. The high rollers all peeked at the second card. Brendon slowly did the same and then looked at the queen that was face-up. I smiled at Brendon before turned to the first high roller. He had turned a five, and was now turning his second card. I already knew what it was. This was a dealer's game. Not even the high rollers won. Mr. Hickman made sure of that.

He turned over another five and raised an eyebrow, "Hit me."

I dealt him another card and he glared at the deuce as it made its way in front of him.

"Ain't doin' too hot, eh, Bill?" one of the high rollers said with a chuckle and flipped over his second card. He was already sitting at nineteen.

"What's your play?" I asked as he rubbed his stubble-encrusted chin in thought.

"Hit me," he said.

I smirked and pushed a card outward to him. It was a three. He had just broken by one. A string of cuss words filled the air and the other two high rollers chuckled.

"Looks like you ain't doin' too hot either, Russ," Bill mocked.

The third high roller flipped his second card and asked for a hit. He lost by nine.

Finally, Brendon flipped his second card over and looked up at me, expectantly. I stared in disbelief. Next to that queen was an ace. It was a fair and square win. I was almost positive I had dealt him a jack. I looked up at him and then down at the cards, and put my head in my hands after flipping my cards. A jack and an ace. Brendon beat me. I knew Mr. Hickman would not be happy, but I thanked the lord when I realized he had only bet doubles on a twenty.

The high rollers paid up and I handed Brendon the forty dollars he was owed, asking him not to rub it in Mr. Hickman's face.

Some older women with a lot of plastic approached the table and sat next to Brendon, admiring him, knowing who he was.

"So, where do you come from?" one of the cougars said, staring at him with lusting eyes.

I began to shuffle my deck, rolling my eyes as the four women asked him nonstop questions, none of which were getting answered, or were getting answered poorly. The women frowned, realizing this was his first million, and placed their bets.

Brendon removed himself from the seat and began to walk away. I knew Mr. Hickman would kill me if I didn't keep track of him, so I told the women it was time for my break, and I followed him towards the bar. He ordered a plain cola. I smirked a little and ordered myself a rum and orange, seating myself next to him. He looked at me and blushed.

"You know, this all worked out really odd," I said, accepting my beverage from Jacquelyn, the bartender, "You don't seem like the high roller type."

He blushed a little more and shrugged, "This is my first time gambling, too. I guess it's just beginner's luck."

I smiled and took a sip of my drink, "Must be."

"So, how long is it until he brings me my check?"

I shrugged, "He probably has to move a lot of money around. Legally, he has to give it to you within the next twenty-four hours. I think he does, anyway. Are you staying in the resort?"

He nodded slowly, "Only for tonight, though." He sipped on his virgin drink and I smirked.

This is not the place for innocence, love.

Brendon and I talked for what seemed like hours. I was getting more drunk by the second, but Brendon did not seem to mind my slurs or constant giggles. I think he did mind when my hand found his thigh, though. It was dangerously close to his thrill zone and I smirked to myself. He looked at me and I could not tell whether he was surprised or horrified. In my drunken state, I didn't care. I slowly began running my hand up his thigh and found what I was looking for. It was obvious he didn't mind too much by his reaction to my hand. I removed my hand from his thigh and found his, pulling him towards the doors to the hotel.

"Where's your room, sugar?" I slurred. He looked appalled, but led me to it, nonetheless. He didn't even make an attempt to wriggle free of my hand.

He gulped as I stood close at his side, breathing down his neck. He fumbled for his keycard and I whispered into his ear, "The faster you get they keycard, the faster you get in my pants."

His eyes widened and he hurried up the process, sliding the keycard into the slot. I followed him into his room and attacked his lips, kicking the door behind me shut. He kissed me back, and I didn't think a man of such innocence could kiss like that. We collapsed onto one of the two queen-sized beds and I crawled on top of him, attaching myself to his throat.

"Ryan, stop."

I blinked confusedly and stared.

This is where one night stands originate.

"I...want this to be special...if we're going to do it..." Brendon said, a blush forming at his cheeks. He sure does blush a lot.

I rolled my eyes, not even bothering to hide the action, but I let him do as he pleased, removing a bottle of champagne and two glasses from the miniature refrigerator. He poured us each a glass, handing me one. It took me a moment to bring my focus onto which of the four glasses was mine, but he finally forced it into my hand. He drank his champagne and kissed my neck as I downed my own champagne. He continued kissing my neck and I moaned as he found one of my weak spots.

That was the last thing I remember.

I woke up, lying down and covered up by the golden covers of the queen-sized bed I last remember sitting on. Arms were around my waist and a body was lying extremely close to me. I felt myself to make sure my clothes were still on, because it wasn't unknown for men to try something by drugging other men and women up.

"Hey, sleepy-head." I moved in the other man's arms and looked up into his doe brown eyes. Everything came back to me and I furrowed my brow.

"Hickman still hasn't gotten your money yet?"

"Oh he did. They called me down a few hours ago but I wanted to wait until I saw you were okay."

I blushed a little. Not many people cared that much. He held me for another moment, playing with my hair, and it was nice, until he ruined it.

"Was this supposed to just be a one night stand?"

I sighed and answered honestly, "It was supposed to be, but that obviously didn't work out too well, saying it's morning and I'm still lying here. And we never even fucked."

He made a noise from the back of his throat and held me tighter, "Do you think we'll see each other again?"

"Well you know where I work," I said and smiled, "so that's your decision."

"Can I get a number?" he asked, timidly.

I nodded and sat up a little, my head spinning. He handed me his phone and I began putting my number into it, the small beeps from dialing the digits hurting my head.

"You need to go get your money," I said, rubbing my head and handing him my phone, "and I need some mother fucking aspirin."

He smiled a little and kissed my cheek, "I have to leave, soon. Checkout is at eleven and I don't want to stay here another night. But I'll call you."

I jerked him towards me and forcefully kissed his lips before growling, "You fucking better."

I watched him leave, and it was an astoundingly nice view. He had a perfect body. Too bad the door shut behind him.

He was made for Vegas.

Lo and behold, a few days after all the interviews, Brendon Urie really did call me. I was on a smoke break when my phone began ringing and a strange number showed up. I answered and there was a melodic voice of a brunette beauty on the line. I smiled a little.

"Hey, beautiful," he said. I rolled my eyes.

"Hey, what's up?"

"Well I was just in the area, and wondered if you wanted to do something."

"Where are you?" I asked, a little curious.

"Look up," he said. I looked up and saw a white stretch limousine parked with the driver stepped out, holding a sign with my name. I snorted a little and walked to it. The driver opened the back door for me and I got inside, hanging my cell phone up.

"Spending your money well, I see," I said and laughed. He handed me a bouquet of roses and I rolled my eyes, accepting them and kissing his lips.

"So, Ryan. What's your favorite part of Vegas?"

I shrugged, "I don't know."

He pressed his lips against mine as the driver began to drive in what seemed like an aimless fashion. He pushed me against the door and I pushed back, wrapping my long arms around his neck. His breathing was heavy and he started kissing my throat, searching for the weak spot he had found last time. I ran my hands under his shirt and he stopped to look at me for a moment. I removed my hands, thinking I did something wrong, immediately regretting how forward I was being.

He pecked my lips and said, "We're here."

I blinked and looked at where we were. Flashing neon lights were advertising it as Cupid's Chapel. I smiled and rolled my eyes.

"Are you kidding me?"

He kissed my cheek, "It feels right, doesn't it?"

I thought for a moment and nodded, "It really does."

"I'm usually not a spontaneous person, you know. So this is big," he said with a chuckle, and helped me out of the limousine, holding my hand. We walked into the chapel and waited in line behind the many other people waiting to be married.

"You were so meant for Vegas," I said and rolled my eyed. He smiled and my lips found his.

Pure bliss.