"Time to go? This hangover is gonna need until at least noon," I said.
"The hotel wants you out in the next 10 minutes. Do it or the manager will call the cops," the burly guard's equally big partner said.
"Oh, come on, I'm sure worse has happened here." I sat up and forced the room to stay right on its axis.
"Done by guests that can afford to pay for the damages. You can't. You're out," the first guard said.
"Your bags will be sent to your manager's room," the second guard added.
"Can you at least let me find a shirt?" I asked.
"You're wearing one."
I looked down. I was wearing a tight white women's shirt with a low V-neck. In rhinestones, it said, “Vegas Can Kiss My A$$.”
"Yeah, I can pull this off," I said. I dragged myself out of bed and yanked the tight shirt down to meet the jeans and belt. "How do I look, boys?"
"I've seen worse," the second guard said.
"Man, way to kick a man when he's down," I said. I yanked my arms out of their massive hands and marched toward the elevator on my own. At least, they stopped to let me swerve into a pair of oxblood loafers I had left by the door.
"You're not taking him out the lobby." Kya slipped in the door and planted her hands on her hips. "Once he's out of the room, you can let me escort him out of the back of the casino."
The towering security guards eyed Kya's slender 5'5" frame and flashing green eyes. They glanced at each other in a stratosphere far above her fierce chin thrust.
The first security guard shrugged. "Just get him out before the cops come."
"Good luck getting this one on a leash, lady." The second guard gave me a shove toward Kya. I stumbled, and she caught me in both arms.
"Oh, God, did you bathe in tequila after I left?" Kya asked. She held her breath as she dragged me into the elevator and shut the door on the curious security guards.
"What's your plan here, genius? This elevator goes to the main lobby, right across from the front doors. Lots of action, lots of reporters by now," I said.
Kya rolled her eyes and punched the button marked B1 – Laundry. "We'll have to take our chances. The maids down there might kill you after they've seen what you did to the penthouse suite, but that has to be better than the crowd in the lobby."
I leaned against the mirrored walls of the elevator and closed my eyes. My stomach stayed on the penthouse for a few floors before lurching sickly down to join the rest of me.
"Want some coffee?" Kya asked.
I opened one eye. She held out a paper cup from the fancy kiosk in the main lobby. I took it and sipped gratefully.
"About the strip club," I began.
"I know, I know, I had no business showing up there. I don't know what I was thinking," she said.
The doors opened on the basement floor. I had no idea what to say, but I grabbed her arm, anyway. "It wasn't what it looked like."
"It looked like none of my business."
She dragged me out of the elevator and along a wide corridor. Maids pushing their heavy room cleaning carts were not surprised as we went by – though a few gave my t-shirt an extra glance. I flexed my muscles and got appreciative smiles in return.
I stopped when a lovely, black-haired maid asked to take a picture with me. I put my arm around her and smiled as she held up her camera phone. She squeezed my ass as the camera flashed. Despite the hollow ache of the hangover, the TKO, party, and tossing out had raised my notoriety to a new level.
Kya came back to shepherd me along. "You got kicked out of here, remember? The manager is about to call the police?"
I slipped both hands around her waist and pulled her close. "I remember dancing with you last night."
She slapped my hands and twisted away. I pulled her bac