“I want to move back to Las Vegas, for real,” I said, turning to my best friend, Shane, who was driving us to his parents home so I could see them before I left town in a few hours.

“No, you don’t,” he said. “D, I know you.”

He was right.

There are very few people who know me-know me. Shane is one of them. Kyla is another. And a few more amazing people in my life. He and I had met within my first two months in Las Vegas. His best friend, Monty, was my client and I was on his account. We were launching his film at the now defunct CineVegas. Shane was in the film and I met him during a meeting one day. We clicked, and now he is essentialy my older brother and one of the most important people in my life.

“Shane,” I said, turning to him, very serious. “You know me.  When I set my mind on something, I get what I want. I wanted to move from Las Vegas? I made it happen and got a job in Atlanta. When I said I was done with my job in Las Vegas and was going solo to Europe? I quit my job, cashed in all of my money, put my life in storage, and went to Europe. Now, I want to move back and get a job to Las Vegas. I WILL move to Las Vegas.”

“Alright buddy,” he said, holding out his hand for me to grab. “Do it.”

I grabbed his hand and squeezed.

“You betcha,” I said and then turned towards the window to look at Red Rock Canyon as we drove west on Blue Diamond.

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