The automatic glass doors slide open for Sally, emitting a blast of refrigerated air that almost sets shivers down her spine after the long walk across town in the oppressing desert heat.  The bottle of water in her hands has been refilled twice since she set off from the bus station where she crashed out for the night, and it's dry again now.  The dry heat seemed to sap her moisture even more than in her native west Texas, but she was accustomed enough to handle it... but the air conditioning was enough to give her goosebumps, harden her nipples under the thin cotton shirt and brace she wore... she hoped the effect wasn't too obvious as she swayed her way up to the consierge, whose eyes widen a bit at the sight of her.  In Vegas, she'd learned, she could get away with dressing just about any way she wanted... at the bus station this morning, she was labeled a vagrant or a whore, avoided or stared at, because she used the pay-shower and dressed in worn-out clothes and boots, but here at the most expensive hotel she'd ever seen, she was automatically assumed to be some trophy wife, or rebellious daughter, and those worn-out Levis must have really been designer... the wear was sooo realistic...<br/><br/>She reached into her hip pocket, watching the consierge's eyes from behind the rims of her reflective-lensed shades as he checked her out... she smiled very faintly at the attention and passed the invitation.  "Is this legitimate..?" she asked, skeptical and stone faced.<br/><br/>He nodded... "Congratulations, miss... this is indeed a registered private event.  The game, I'm afraid, is one I'm not familiar with, and evidently, the details are kept well under wraps at this time.  I can tell you that, while affiliated with the hotel, those coordinating the event are not employees, and the hotel is not legally responsible for the game's results."  He smiled a bit.  "Is there anything else I can do for you, madam?  Another water, perhaps?  Or I could have a porter take your bag."<br/><br/>She shrugged the one-strapped, leather messenger bag that held her possessions-- all of them, except the guitar that was stolen.  Her precious guitar.  "No, thanks... I'll hang on to it."<br/><br/>As the consierge nodded and bid a welcoming... goodbye?... she headed for the elevator.