Vegas. I’ve only been here once before, and now I remember why I’ve never been back. I can smell the desperation in the air.
“Now this is what I’m talking about, bitches!”
Kenji, wearing black suede platform boots, skintight purple velvet pants, a fuchsia silk scarf, and a long, black leather trench coat even though it’s over one hundred degrees outside, sails into our suite at the Wynn with his arms held out, a giant grin on his face.
I admit the room is spectacular. It’s actually not a suite, it’s a three-thousand-square-foot villa, with balconies, a private massage room, floor-to-ceiling views of the golf course, and a dining room that seats ten. Fresh flower bouquets are everywhere, scenting the air with the delicate perfume of orchids and roses. The biggest gift basket I’ve ever se
