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There was a GA meeting she was hoping to make before meeting Jordan and Katie .  However, she still had several calls to make, and laundry to fold, and bills to fret over...the temptation to skip the meeting was great, but she knew she would go in the end. 
    Becca moved to Las Vegas when she was barely twenty years old.  She was halfway through college and in love with Kevin, the boy she'd been with since her junior year in high school . W hen Kevin was offered a job as a management trainee at one of the swankiest hotels on the s trip , s he followed him and they soon shed their Asheville, North Carolina personas in favor of the high-partying lifestyle that Kevin's new job afforded them. 
    But after two years of living fast and wild, Kevin moved on to a faster job and a wilder woman, leaving Becca devastated and virtually penniless.  Not wanting to move home and admit defeat, Becca began to use part of her meager earnings as a sous chef to go to the casinos at night.  She thought if she could just hit one big pot, her money problems would be over.  Eighteen months later, after losing thousands on slots and blackjack, the night came that Becca found herself alone in her boss's office, standing over her desk.  She knew that the evening's tips were in the top drawer waiting to be split and dispersed. 
    Becca told herself if she took five hundred dollars, just five hundred dollars , she could triple it by the end of the night and return the money the next day.  No harm, no foul.  She had the cash in her hand when she heard the door from the kitchen slam shut.  Pam, her boss, was walking down the corridor to her office, her spiky heels clicking heavily in the cavernous hallway.  Becca's skin was cold and clammy with sweat and she stuffed the money back in the drawer, crossing her arms over her chest and cupping her hands in her armpits.  When Pam walked in, Becca told her she felt ill and had come back to the office to rest.  Pam gave her two ibuprofen and sent her home.  The next day Becca joined Gambler's Anonymous.
    Three years later, Becca had her own catering business, her own car, and her own apartment.  She no longer went to GA meetings daily, but she tried to make one at least twice a week.  And even though she lived hand to mouth, she was happy and independent, and glad to be free of both Kevin and the monkey on her back.
    But today she was feeling stressed . S he grabbed a Pop-Tart from the pantry and went through her bills, deciding which ones to pay, which ones to postpone, and which ones to “forget” to put stamps on.  She couldn't shrug off the dread she felt at the thought of going to the tux fitting .  Not only did she hate spending time with Jordan, but now she was going to have to meet and play nice with four other Jordans, probably just as irritating and pretentious as the original. 
    Such was her mood as she entered Ascot Formal Wear a few minutes before four.  Jordan and Katie weren't there yet so Becca strolled through the store, eyeing the elegant tuxes and accessories that would look so much better than the screaming pink abominations Katie had selected.  So it was a Valentines wedding, big deal . D id it have to look like Hello Kitty and Polly Pocket were exchanging vows ?
    “Excuse me, can you tell me where your restrooms are?” 
    Becca turned and saw a man with a mop of dark blond curls looking at her expectantly.  What, did she look like an employee?   
    “I...I don't … ”  she started, and a look of understanding and embarrassment crossed his face before she could even finish her sentence.
    “Oh...oh, no, sorry.  I don't know why I thought...never mind.”
    “It's okay.  The restrooms are through those double-doors.”  He smiled and gave her a little wave, then turned in the direction she pointed. 
    Cute smile, she thought.  Nice ass.
    “Hey, Becca!”  She turned and saw Katie looking excited and a little nervous.  Behind her was Jordan and two other