Catch

CATCH

Michelle D. Argyle

Copyright © 2013 Michelle D. Argyle

Catch

Smashwords Edition

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may
be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or
transmitted, in any form, or by any means electronic, mechanical,
printing, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of
the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book
review.

Summary: “Eighteen-year-old Miranda falls in love
with a purse snatcher in Las Vegas while vacationing with her
family.”

This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to
actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales, is entirely
coincidental.

Edited by Diane Dalton

Cover Design by Melissa Williams Cover Design

Cover images © 2013 Shutterstock

Author Photo by Meg Hall Photography at

http://meghallphotography.blogspot.com/

Visit author Michelle D. Argyle at

http://michelledargyle.com

TABLE OF CONTENTS

1.

2.

3.

4.

Miranda’s parents had gone overboard in
planning this last family vacation before she went off to college.
The next five days were packed to the brim with activities
organized around her father’s business convention. She should have
been excited, but it all felt so inevitably predictable. Just like
her life. As much as she sometimes wished for something unplanned
and exciting to happen, she knew it was a reckless hunger. She had
once told her fifteen-year-old sister, Julia, “If you look for
excitement, you’ll probably find trouble.”

But maybe a little trouble would be worth
it.

“Okay, girls.” Miranda’s mother, Gabriela,
flung a suitcase onto one of the hotel beds and unzipped the top.
“I’ve brought something for you two to do while we’re here.”

“Like there’s not enough entertainment in
Vegas already?” Julia asked as she sank into a chair by the window
and dropped her sunglasses on the table. She looked the most like
their mother, with darker skin and full, curly black hair inherited
from Gabriela’s Brazilian genes. Those genes had skipped Miranda
entirely. She looked most like her father, with fair skin and
straight, light brown hair. The most exotic things about her were
her long, black eyelashes, full lips, and bushy eyebrows she had to
pluck nearly every day.

“Of course there’s enough entertainment,”
their mother replied with a small pout, “but this is … this is
different.” She pulled a small white box from her bag and slid off
the top. “You two got to know Grandpa pretty well before he died,
but he never talked much about your Grammy. I want you two to get
to know her better.”

“Here we go,” Julia groaned as she slowly
fist-pumped the air. “Another march into the Brazilian roots!”

Miranda smirked and looked out the window at
the city sprawling below. They were on the sixth floor of the Las
Vegas Hilton, and she was only now beginning to cool off from the
dry July heat outside as the air conditioner blasted cold air up
her sweat-damp shirt.

“These are the pictures we saved?” Julia
asked as she jumped onto the bed and peered into the white box.
Miranda watched them over her shoulder, remembering how devastated
their mother had been when that stupid flood destroyed the few
boxes of memorabilia they had of Grandma and Grandpa Soares. They
had managed to save one box with a few pictures and some
knickknacks, but Miranda hadn’t paid much attention to them at the
time. She was too busy mourning the loss of her baby scrapbook,
which was now a water-warped mess.

“Yes, these are from her first trip to Vegas.
It was 1967—when Elvis married Priscilla at The Aladdin, and Howard
Hughes started buying hotels, to give you some sense of the time
period.”

“Who was Howard Hughes?” Julia asked,
snapping her watermelon gum.

Miranda laughed. “Leonardo Dicaprio?” she
hinted. “That movie
The Aviator
? Howard Hughes was one of
the richest men in the world, ever.”

Julia shook her head. “No clue who you’re
talking about.”

“Well, it doesn’t matter,” Gabriela sighed as
she lifted old photographs from the box. “What matters is that you
two get to know your Grammy through these pictures.”

Walking to the bed, Miranda picked up one of
the pictures and studied it. Her Grandma Soares had the same dark
coloring as Julia. In the black and white photograph, she was
wearing an old-fashioned dress with big shiny buttons going all the
way up the front. She leaned against a light-colored Chevy, her
face half covered with a huge pair of white sunglasses. On her head
was a floppy sunhat.

Miranda smiled. “Looks like she walked
straight out of Hollywood.”

“Well, we don’t live far from there, now do
we?” Gabriela laughed. Miranda’s parents had lived in Santa Ana
forever, even before they’d met and married … and Miranda feared
she would live there forever too. That was why she had been so
desperate to go to college somewhere other than California. She’d
always had an itch to travel and move around. She didn’t like the
idea of being stuck in one place for the rest of her life. Being
stuck meant even less excitement than she already had.

“How old was she in these?” Julia asked as
she thumbed through a stack of photos.

“Eighteen—your age, Miranda. She and her
older sister, Veronica, came here to Vegas for the very first
time.”

Miranda picked up a few more pictures. Some
of them were in color, but most of them were black and white.
Gabriela sifted through the pictures until she found a neat stack
held together with a rubber band. She pulled off the band and
handed Miranda the photos. There were at least a dozen snapshots of
the two sisters in front of buildings—The Flamingo Hotel, The
Riviera, The Aladdin, Caesars Palace, and a bunch of others Miranda
had never heard of. Half of them probably weren’t even around
anymore. Her grandmother looked so happy and excited, and in every
shot she had an arm wrapped around her sister’s waist, hugging her
close. In a lot of ways, they looked similar to her and Julia.

“I thought you two could go to each of those
locations—if they still exist—and take a photo just like your
grandmother and great aunt did. Create some memories, and then we
can put them all together in an album.” Gabriela’s eyes sparkled as
she looked up at Miranda. “It’ll be an adventure.” She moved her
attention to Julia. “I know this trip wasn’t something you really
wanted to do, but humor me for this? Please?”

Miranda saw the desperation in her mother’s
eyes, and it hit her in the gut. All those hours Gabriela spent
learning Portuguese, all that time in the kitchen trying to learn
Brazilian cooking, it all had to do with connecting to her mother
in the only way she knew how. For the first time in her life,
Miranda felt a small spark of motivation to help her find that
connection.

“Sure, Mom,” she said, putting her hand on
her mother’s. “We’ll go out and take the pictures.” She grabbed all
the photos and stacked them into a nice, thick pile and stretched
the rubber band around them.

“Thanks, girls. I’ll be at your dad’s
convention tomorrow. You can go first thing in the morning after
breakfast. I know you’ll have fun.”

Julia rolled her eyes and slid off the bed.
“Sounds like a blast,” she sighed as Miranda dropped the photos in
her handbag for later. “Better than the convention, at least.”

“Well, it doesn’t look anything like it did
in 1967,” Julia said as she and Miranda stood below the gaudy
Flamingo Hotel and Casino sign. It hung over the sidewalk, bright
pink and orange and in the shape of flamingo feathers. In Grammy’s
picture, the sign wasn’t attached to the building but still had the
same basic shape. Miranda couldn’t tell what the colors had been
back then since the photo was in black and white. She wasn’t even
sure the hotel had been in the same place. She squinted at the
picture and then up at the sign above them. People bustled around
them, sweating under the hot sun. Julia wiped her brow. “Maybe we
should go inside. I’m so tired I’m going to fall over.”

“Hang in there, Jules. We only have Caesar’s
Palace and Planet Hollywood left,” Miranda said, turning around.
“Caesar’s is, like, right across the street.” She pointed in the
direction of a white pedestrian bridge stretching across the busy
road. “See? Then we can take a break before we head down to Planet
Hollywood.”

“That one’s not in any of the pictures,”
Julia complained.

“It used to be The Aladdin, remember?”

“Oh, yeah.”

“Then after that we’ll go back to our hotel
and sleep for the rest of the day if you want.”

Julia heaved a sigh and started turning in
circles to find someone who might be willing to take the picture
for them. They had done this five times now, and Miranda’s feet
hurt so badly she thought they might fall off. They had to finish
this. They had to give her mom these pictures. She wasn’t sure why
it was such a deep need for her now, but as she and Julia had
trekked down the Strip and looked at the pictures of Grammy and her
sister, trying to pose in the exact same positions for their own
pictures, she had felt a strong connection to her grandmother. She
had been a real person, just like her, in a city that must have
been exciting and wild and fun. Had she fought with her own sister
like Miranda fought with Julia sometimes? Had she loved her just as
much? Had she ever been angry with her parents for leaving Brazil?
She hadn’t ever gone back, so she must not have minded too
much.

“Thanks!” Julia said in an upbeat voice as
she handed their camera over to a middle-aged woman in a pair of
yoga pants and sneakers. Miranda could tell Julia was forcing her
excitement.

“So, you want the big sign in it, then?”

“Yeah, if you can,” Miranda answered as the
woman positioned the camera in front of her eye.

“I’ll have to step way back,” she said. “Just
wait there.” The woman backed up until she was practically in the
side street, then angled the camera up and adjusted the lens until
it was at the widest angle possible. “Smile!” she yelled out.

Miranda hugged Julia close to her, squeezing
and smiling until the woman was finished. Miranda thanked her and
waited until she’d walked off before looking at the picture. The
sign was a little cut off, but that didn’t matter so much since the
original sign in the picture was completely different anyway.

“I look so fat next to you,” Julia grumbled
as she peered at the pictures while Miranda scrolled through
them.

“Oh, you do not. Shut up.”

“Yes, I
do
. I’m short and chubby and
you’re tall and thin.”

Miranda nudged her in the ribs, realizing how
much she’d miss her at college. “You do realize I’ve always thought
you’re the prettier one, right?”

Julia’s mouth fell open. “No.”

“It’s true! You’re gorgeous, just like
Mom.”

Julia looked herself up and down.
“Whatever.”

“Believe it, sis.” Miranda swung her handbag
off her shoulder to put the camera back inside it. Once it was
between her wallet and her iPod, she carefully tucked the thick
stack of pictures at the bottom beneath a package of Kleenex.

“I’m hungry,” Julia said as they turned
toward the bridge.

Miranda looked at her watch. It was almost
three o’clock. They’d been walking around all morning and afternoon
without stopping to eat. Their breakfast back at the Hilton seemed
like five million years ago.

“Yeah,” Miranda answered, “we can eat
somewhere.” She moved to push the strap of her bag back up on her
shoulder, but something tugged at it so hard she almost fell on her
butt. She felt the strap yank away from her fingers, and spun
toward Julia.

“What are you
doing
?” she growled, and
then realized it wasn’t Julia who had grabbed her bag, but someone
else entirely. When she looked up, she saw a guy sprinting down the
sidewalk. He was dressed in a suit. Short brown hair and white
sneakers. Who wore white sneakers with a suit? What she noticed
most of all, however, was her red leather hobo handbag dangling
from his hand. A string of curse words left her mouth, and without
thinking, she started running down the sidewalk after him.

“Miranda!” Julia called out from behind her.
“Miranda! Stop!”

Miranda spun around. “Just stay put. I’ll be
right
back.”

Julia looked stunned as Miranda turned back
around and took off down the sidewalk. The guy wasn’t that far
ahead. She could totally catch him. What could possibly happen? He
wouldn’t hurt her on a public street surrounded by witnesses. She
would catch him and get her purse back. Simple.