What Happens In Vegas

I paid my cab driver with a tip and he got out of the car to help me. He opened my door for me and then after I was out he kindly gave me a wave and fucked off. I turned to look at the place. Is this right? It's not big. It's not special. It's just a plain old house. The neighbourhood isn't spectacular either. Why would it be? Luckily it isn't in the hood either though.
I walked to the front door and rang the door bell. All I need to do is calmly explain. To just get my point across and then to hopefully move on from here in a short time. I can do this. I just need to make sure that I don't lose it.
The door opened and Mike looked shocked to see me. "What the hell are you doing here?" he asked. As charming as ever.
"I- I just- Mike..." Words seemed to fail me.
"What?" he asked.
Then my plans all went to pot and I broke down in front of him. I started to bawl my eyes out, making my face go all red and blotchy. I was emitting loud weird noises that sounded half between a small baby crying and a cat getting strangled. To top it all off I have the hiccups.
"Hey stop crying!" Mike called. "God, can't you at least cry quieter."
"I'm sorry - hiccup - just didn't no where - hiccup - to go." I sobbed. Mike rolled his eyes at me and opened his arms for me. I walked into them and buried my face in his chest. I shook harder and got his t-shirt all wet and soggy.
"What's turned you into a hot mess?" Mike asked in my ear.
"I'm sorry - hiccup," I cried. "Andrew - Liz - married - disowned - poor - plane." I rambled.
"Hold it, sweetheart," he stopped me. "Like usual you're making no sense. Come inside." he urged. I nodded against him and broke away. Mike let me inside and I followed him. I don't know what came over me. Or over him. I hugged him. I don't think we even hugged when we got married. Or when we hooked up. I don't think we've ever hugged.
Mike took me into his sitting room and forced me into the arm chair. He threw a a box of tissues at me, the corner hitting me right in the eye. I held my eye and heard Mike swear under his breath. He never said sorry though, surprise, surprise. I took a tissue and blew my nose so loud Mike probably thought it was going to fall off.
"How come you're here?" Mike finally asked me.
"Because I have no where else to go." I cried harder.
"What's happened?" he asked curiously.
"Everyone knows. They know we're married."
"You told them?" he gasped.
"No," I puffed out. "They found out. My sister told everyone. Andrew isn't talking to me anymore. My relationship with him may as well be over. My dad has cut me off and taken me out of the accounts and as for Gran . . . She is probably getting her hair permed right now and has completely forgotten she has a granddaughter named Violet."
"Damn," Mike muttered. "Haven't you been a busy bee. The most interesting thing that's happened to me is Vic falling head first into my toilet."
"How did that happen?" I asked.
"He was drunk. We tied his shoes together. It was a thing." he shrugged. "But back on you."
"I'm alone!" I started to cry again.
"Don't you have any friends? Any family?"
"No," I sniffed. "They hate me because I married a drummer and I'm poor!"
"What's wrong with drummers?" he asked defensively.
"They're dirty and hairy and marry people without getting to know them." I managed to roll my eyes.
"Funny," he mocked. "Where are you going to go?"
"Where am I going to go?" I echoed. "I brought a plane ticket from Philly to San Diego. Where do you think I wanted to go?" I huffed.
"You can't stay here!" Mike exclaimed.
"And why not?" I demanded. "You're my husband. For richer, for poorer."
"I don't think it really applies to us." he sighed.
"I'm your wife! I'm in need!"
"Yeah but I mean, come on. You have to have someone else."
"No one wants me! Do you want to see me on the streets?"
"Don't exaggerate, sweetheart."
"I'm not." I sniffed.
"God," Mike sighed. He rubbed his chin and looked from my blood shot eyes to my ruined make up. My nail which I chipped on the way over here to my purse which was full with all my money - although Mike didn't know that. "Upstairs."
"Excuse me?" I muttered.
"Take your stuff and go upstairs."
"Perhaps you are short sighted but do you see any stuff? I see my purse."
"That's all you brought? I thought you had ten cases of shit in Vegas."
"It was two," I glared. "And I think you've missed the point. I couldn't go to get my things! My apartment had Andrew in it. Andrew hates me!"
"Probably." Mike nodded.
"You're supposed to be making me feel better!" I snapped.
"Woah, I never agreed to that."
"You're horrible." I glared.
"Well, it's this horrible person who is letting you stay here."
"You're my husband! It's your job."
"Because aren't we just the perfect couple. You don't even know my middle name."
"Is it Simon?" I asked hopefully.
"Why would it be Simon?" he asked me like I was insane. Which let's be honest isn't that much of a stretch right now. My Aunt Sylvia had more sense than me. And she had a breakdown two years ago at a garden party, throwing bottles of spring water and canapé's at my Gran before the men in the white jackets came to take her away. There was smoked salmon and caviar everywhere.
"You look like a Simon." I shrugged.
"And you look like a nutcase. Go to the second door on the right up the stairs before I change my mind." As I stood up and Mike raised his eyebrows at me I realised something horrifying. He was serious.

Notes

Hey! How is everyone? So what did you think? I'm getting paranoid this isn't funny anymore. Was this okay? Fave line? I'm suffering today because Monday was leg day and I'm paying the price. To anyone who ordered a copy of my book on pre order they will be sent out in two weeks time roughly, I received my copy today. Keep kind xo