Free- The Possession Series Book 3

Chapter 1- Vivi

You either love Las Vegas, or you don't.

Love, as in deep in your soul, craves all-you-can-eat buffets, lives for the unrelenting sun, jumps up to join drunk off their asses tourists in spontaneous sidewalk dance challenges, and enjoys super tight traffic jams—love.

Or. You hate it.

Once was enough for you. Your friends threw up all weekend, you lost your rent money in a dodgy casino, got groped in the club, and that buffet gave you food poisoning. Excessive cigarette smoke permanently damaged your voice, and an Elvis impersonator stole your cell phone. You never want to come back to this overbaked hell hole again.

Me? I'm in the middle (leaning toward the hate side though.)

There are things I like about Vegas, like the food, people-watching, and the pool scene. Give me an air-conditioned mall and a hot cabana boy, and I'm all set.

As for the things I hate—well, let's just say that some of the items on that list have happened to me.

So when my best friend, Riley (who incidentally looooooves Vegas), invited me to tag along to a convention she was attending, I hesitated —big time.

"Come on, Vivi! Who turns down an all-expense-paid trip to Vegas? It's VEGAS, baby." She did some sort of weird hair flip and a finger snap. "We won't do anything crazy, I promise."

Sure we won't. I think we are still banned from that one place.

"Riley..." my voice sounded pitiful, a mix of horror and absolute terror. "The last time you said that, I wound up in a cast for a month." I held up my arm and twisted it at an odd angle. "And you still have that scar on your stomach."

"It's a quick few days—we will be home on Sunday night. Vivi, c'monnnnn," she moans in exasperation. "You used to be so much more adventurous than this!" Her pretty face roils in exasperation.

"Yeah, when? It's been a long time since I have wanted to do anything edgy, and you know it. I nearly fucked everything up, Riles."

"So maybe you got into some shit once or twice. We are young; we should be fucking things up." She shrugs in that adorable/annoying way that normally gets her out of everything.

"First of all, Riley Mansour, we ain't that young. And it's not once or twice, either. It's every freakin' time we go anywhere, and you know it."

"It's not every time..." She suddenly finds my recycled countertops fascinating.

"Yes, it is."

"We had a lovely time when we went to Costa Rica."

"We got on the wrong bus because you thought the driver was cute, and I got bit by that big fucking spider. My ass swelled up, and I could only sit sideways for a month."

"Well, ok, I forgot about that. New York was a grand adventure, though."

"Riley, we got stuck on the subway for six hours, and I had to pee into a cup in front of thirty-five strangers. And that weird man kept the cup."

"Oh. Yes, there was that. What about Los A...."

"Don't you even think about bringing up Los Angeles. Or New Orleans. Or Milan." Her mouth clamped into a thin line as she mean-mugged me. That look stopped affecting me years ago.

I've been friends with Riley since the fifth grade. We met when her family moved to Seattle from Miami in the middle of the school year. Her father is a big-time doctor who took over a high-profile spot at Virginia Mason and had to report immediately. Her mom wanted the kids to finish the school year, but Dr. Mansour wanted his family with him, regardless. So Riley and her two brothers barreled into our elementary school like rocks in an avalanche.