His phone buzzed on the side of his leg as he contemplated his solitude. Phil gratefully pulled it from his pocket until he realized, with a sinking feeling, that it was his bookie.

Joe

Joe was well aware that he was not wanted at his niece’s wedding, at least not by Donna, his sister-in-law, who was a hateful, Botoxed shrew, in Joe’s opinion.

He only saw his brother, Richard, about once a year at the most and always at Richard’s Maryland home, a stodgy brick four-bedroom not far from Ellicott City’s historic main street, which Donna thought was the most interesting place on the planet.

Donna had never allowed Richard to visit Joe in Vegas, even though Joe had invited him at least twenty times over the years. Joe and Richard had never been close, but he longed to show off his accomplishments in Vegas, specifically his thriving restaurant-supply business, which he knew would fascinate his older brother. Donna never let the kids go either. Like a tourist, Donna called Joe’s hometown “Sin City,” as if it were populated only by prostitutes and drug-addicted gamblers. If only she could see the number of wholesome and annoyingly loud families that inhabited the casinos these days. They’d basically taken over one of Joe’s biggest clients, the New York–New York, thanks to the hotel’s roller coaster and miniature Coney Island–themed arcade.

Things had been going so well at Joe’s company that he hadn’t been to visit Richard in almost three years. To be honest, it wasn’t just that work was busy. There was no reason to go to Maryland these days. Bee, Joe’s favorite niece, was a grown-up now and lived down in Raleigh with her fiancé. Bee’s brother, Eric, had wisely vacated Maryland to go to college in New York City and spent most of his summer vacations traveling through Europe on Richard’s dime. Joe couldn’t bring himself to visit Richard if it was only going to be the three adults.

Donna usually began her attack shortly after Joe arrived, only giving him minutes to unwind before she asked him pointed questions about his daughter, as if it was Joe’s fault that his ex had chosen to live twenty-five hundred miles away from where he could earn a decent living to support their child.

Joe’s ex, Rachel, was a teacher. She and their daughter, Cynthia, lived in Maine, near Rachel’s family. Joe’s child support paid for most of their expenses, which is why living in Nevada, where he had a steady income, seemed to be the obvious priority, at least in his mind. Joe was many things, but he was not a deadbeat dad. He gave them plenty. When Donna accused him of being an absentee father, he always responded, “Can’t teachers work anywhere? Why the hell does Rachel live up in Maine? It’s a choice!” That usually ended the conversation. Dinners were finished in silence.

Joe had suffered through a phone conversation with Donna about a week ago. She’d called him, demanding to know where he planned on staying during the wedding weekend.