~dedicated to fivesaucewhoop because at this point, I think all of her stories are in my library~

Gypsy checks in her first guest and feels pretty good about herself as she offers Harry towels and his room key.

"Thanks," he replies graciously, smiling at her like he's just won the lottery.

"You're welcome," Gypsy replies, thinking that for someone who nearly got hit by a car twice, he sure is friendly and decidedly unfazed she decides.

It's when Harry goes to his room when Gypsy receives another text from Ashton-Answer me, woman!!!-and Sissie returns sans Bubba.

"Ready to eat?" She asks.

"Grandma!" Gypsy exclaims, because she's a child at heart no matter how fervently she denies it. "I checked in my first guest, Grandma!"

"Fabulous, hun!"

And Sissie is shown the new guest's name and information on the log book, reading Harry Styles and wondering when she'll get to meet this newcomer herself.

Maybe, she thinks, he'll come to dinner.

The AC is on full blast, and Gypsy is close to leaving her grandma and running back to their suite to grab at least a sweater and maybe some mittens because her nose is cold; the air's turned up so high.

There are three people inside the dining hall when Sissie leads Gypsy inside.

The first is a tiny woman Gypsy thinks has to be in her early forties. She has a very prominent nose, tired blue eyes and dark brown hair. She's got worry lines but a bright smile that somehow don't make sense together on her face.

"Sissie!" She exclaims, catching sight of Gypsy's grandma before Gypsy can make it to the buffet beside the slot machines.

And before Gypsy knows it, this woman is waving Sissie to her table and Gypsy is being dragged along.

The little lady stands and Sissie has to bend over to accept the hug she's given.

But the lady is smiling broadly at Gypsy, now. "So this must be Gypsy," she says, and Gypsy's having flashbacks to Francisco because apparently Sissie was right and her grandpa really had told everyone all about her.

Sissie nods proudly as the woman's face stretches wider. She shows off more teeth. "Your grandparents have shown me so much kindness-me and my son."

And Sissie waves her off but Gypsy is noticing that Sissie is smiling almost as wide as the little guest. "Gypsy," she says, "this is Ms. Mallette, and she's got to be the sweetest woman here."

"Nice to meet you," Gypsy begins, before she's being crushed against the woman's chest.

"Please," Ms. Mallette says as she breaks the embrace and intertwines her fingers through Gypsy's, "Call me Pattie."

So Gypsy nods, although she's rather taken aback by this woman's kindness but mostly her strength. "It's a real pleasure to meet you, Pattie."

"You too, Gypsy," she says and she's thinking that this girl is even more beautiful than Willie had described and yes she'd be good for her son. She's also wondering where the hell Justin is because he said he'd be back by six and it was nearly twenty minutes after.

Yes, she's certain that Gypsy would help him. Gypsy would be a positive influence in his life and The Lord knows he needs one.

Pattie smiles again and gives Gypsy's hand a parting squeeze. "It's a real pleasure to meet you."

The second guest is standing at the buffet table and Gypsy meets him next because her gnawing hunger has her believing that she's on the brink of death. Let's just say, her grandparents keep a lot of old people food in their kitchen and Gypsy just isn't down with prune juice. She just isn't.

So Gypsy meets Sam as he leans over the raised chafing dish of steaming chicken kabobs.

She laughs to herself because she wishes the boys could be here to see what she's seeing.

Gypsy stands behind him, looking up from the pineapple cubes she's scooping from the fruit platter with a very obvious raised eyebrow.

She speaks first. "Elvis, huh?"

He looks up, around, at himself and then at her. "I'm sorry?"

Gypsy motions with her plastic fork to the white, beaded Elvis ensemble he's wearing; from the white cowboy boots to the very bedazzled white coat. "I don't know about you, but this all looks very 'Elvis' to me."

"Oh," he blushes, and his free hand raises from the handle on the dish to the back of his neck. "Forgot I still had these on," he murmurs.

Gypsy's grin is small and sympathetic because there's no way she'd allow herself to be caught dead wearing anything that makes people think that she's Elvis.

"S'alright," she replies. "You've nailed him, you know, so," she pauses, raising her thumb in approval, "A for execution if that's any consolation."

"Thanks," Gypsy's Elvis laughs, although it comes out as more of a soft giggle than anything else. "You're too kind, really."

"Just being honest," Gypsy shrugs, and she decides then that she could stand there and listen to his voice all day. There's something about her new, Vegas Elvis that's comforting-soothing, even.

She decides it's because he looks like a teddy bear.

He's very tall but also roundish-not quite fat but definitely not skinny. His face is chubby, almost like a baby's but Gypsy's guessing he's in his early twenties. He could pass for older if he wanted, but his cheeks are rosy and his brown hair is styled into a pompadour that together, gives him a very young 'Boy George' look that's both edgy but adorable at the same time...if that makes sense.

"I'm S-"

"Gypsy!" And Gypsy groans because it's Sissie, and she's standing on the opposite side of her soft-spoken Elvis with her hand on his back. "I see you've met Sam. Sam," she says and his eyes are wide as he looks from Sissie to Gypsy, "Meet my granddaughter, Gypsy. I hope she's being nice."

Sam nods, a smile hidden on his face as he looks down to his plate that's still sitting on the buffet table.

"I'm always nice," Gypsy kids, and a grinning Sam opens his mouth to speak but Sissie does not notice.

"Guess what else, Gypsy?" Sissie asks excitedly.

Gypsy shoots Sam an apologetic smile before turning back to her grandmother. "Yes, Grandma?"

"Sam sings, and I swear," she lifts a hand like she's in church, "Gypsy, baby, it's like listening to an angel."

Sam is blushing furiously now and Sissie can't tell that he's wishing, almost praying for her to leave.

Thankfully, Gypsy can tell.

"Of course he can sing, Grandma," she says. "He's Elvis, remember?"

Sissie throws her head back and laughs as the color returns to Sam's cheeks; but he at least offers Gypsy a grin. "I'd have forgotten again if you didn't remind me."

And Gypsy laughs with him now, and she takes that beat of her grandmother's silence to suggest they both leave Sam to his dinner-"He's probably sick of us, anyway," she advocates-and Sissie agrees and Sam smiles at Gypsy and takes his plate to an empty table and decides that Willie was in fact, right all along about his granddaughter.

Gypsy's plate is filled with fruit and kabobs and chocolate chip cookies she swears are getting cold beneath the freezing blasts of the dining hall's AC.

She finishes making her plate and takes a cup of water to a table, finally sitting down to eat beside a young woman with even brown skin, hazel eyes and curly black hair she's styled into a loose side braid. She gives Gypsy a once-over and an added, very uninterested glance with a raised eyebrow for good measure before Gypsy begins to wonder why she didn't go sit beside Sam, and the woman finally realizes who she's looking at.

Gypsy sees her raise a tattooed right hand to her perfectly shaped lips as long, acrylic nails on her left drum the table.

Gypsy is seriously considering moving-she can see Sam across the floor-hell, she'd sit beside her grandmother and Pattie, but Ms. Mallette is yelling at a boy about her age of eighteen with a hoodie pulled over his head and sleeves rolled up to reveal the dark ink of multiple tattoos that ride up the exposed skin of his arm.

Pattie seems busy, Gypsy decides as the boy folds his arms across his chest and turns from the mother yelling at him.

"You're the Lareaux's kid, aren't you?"

And Gypsy snaps her head around to the woman sharing her table.

"Grandkid," she nods, and Gypsy actually starts smiling because this beautiful, intimidating woman is offering a smile of her own and no longer staring at her like she's a child she does not wish to care for.

"Robyn," she says, although no one actually calls her that except for family, but Robyn decides that she doesn't know this girl and she should be formal, so she uses her first name; the name she uses at work without the 'Officer' attached first and 'Fenty' tacked onto the end.

"Gypsy."

Robyn smiles and nods then Gypsy blurts, "How is your makeup so perfect? I can barely keep the wings of my eyeliner even," to which Robyn laughs throatily and explains in a thick Caribbean accent about patience and, "Don't worry; maybe I'll show you one day."

"Please."

And this is how Gypsy meets Robyn, and Gypsy is pleased because Robyn does not seem like the person she'd want to have as an enemy.

Harry Styles does not show up for dinner.

But Gypsy sits with Robyn and is feeling pretty good about herself because she's made her laugh and Robyn no longer looks like she thinks Gypsy is stupid. Gypsy is also hoping that Robyn might share her secret for making police duds look so chic.

She finishes dinner and takes her plate to the trash, pulling her phone from her pocket to see that she's got a new message apiece from both Ashton and Mikey, and she's got two missed calls from Luke and a voicemail she doesn't know goes a little something like,

"Gypsy, it's Luke-you know, your best friend who's been calling you who's-"

"Who's worried sick-!"

"That was Ash, and he's right. We're all-"

"Wondering if you're dead-!"

"Okay, so I think you get the point. Please call us, Gyps, okay?"

"We're your friends-!"

"Is everything okay?-Whoa-Hey-Ash!"

"Look, Gypsy, it's me, Ashton, and you knew that because you recognize the sound of my voice but whatever, you get the point. Call us back because Mikey is tired of sending pictures to someone who isn't responding and Luke's here stress eating and I am so mad because I know you're probably fine and having a proper laugh about all of this but it's time you answer your friends-yeah, friends; best friends who want to make sure you haven't died in the desert, okay? Alright? Okay."

But Gypsy does not check her messages to hear these words.

She meets Robyn's raised eyebrow over the trash and the older woman smiles, "Someone's popular," she croons, and her long nails tap tap the screen of Gypsy's iPhone, "Or someone's got a very possessive boyfriend."

"My friends are in Australia," Gypsy replies simply and she pockets her phone, wondering if a policewoman should really be joking about domestic issues like that.

"And you're here?"

Gypsy nods.

"Well, that's fucked up."

Doesn't Gypsy know it, and the pit in her stomach only stretches wider. It's probably swallowed some vital organs by now-Gypsy decides that if things don't change quick, her heart'll be the next thing to go and then she'll be dead.

"Well, it's a good thing it's Vegas."

Gypsy can't keep her face from pinching. "What's so great about Vegas?"

"Girl," Robyn laughs, "get lucky," and she leaves her standing over the trash in the dining hall.

It's nearly 8:15 when late Bingo begins and Gypsy decides she doesn't want to watch.

"You sure you don't want to play?" Sissie asks. "We can play partners! That'll be fun, right Gypsy?"

Gypsy doesn't have the heart to tell her grandma that she'd rather throw herself into the lion cage at MGM Grand.

Instead, she graciously declines the invite and goes searching for the kitchen.

While at dinner, she watched as a red-haired man-the kitchen's chef, Robyn said-with bright, colorful tattoos-because apparently everyone had them but Gypsy-takes the platter of the tastiest chocolate chip cookies she'd ever had back into what she assumes is the kitchen.

So she leaves her grandmother and heads off in search of Charming's resident chef and the cookies she needs to inhale.

"Come on, Ed, please?" Gypsy freezes in the doorway, the sound of voices rising over running water and clanging pots in the sink. "I'll have the kitchen all cleaned up before you get here in the morning."

"I don't know..."

"Ed, please? You won't even know I've been in here, I promise."

Gypsy inches her way slowly into the kitchen.

"If there's a mess in here, Kitty, I swear-"

"There won't be, Ed. What did I just say?" And Gypsy is far enough inside the kitchen now to see a tall black-haired woman pleading with big, blue-grey eyes as the chef washes dishes.

He shrugs and the woman punches him in the shoulder. "Katy-Hey!"

"You know I hate it when you call me Kitty."

Ed is smiling at the soap on his hands. "So everyone in Caesar's gets to call you Kitty but I don't?"

"You're damn right," the lady replies in her raspy voice, and with that she clutches her chest because these sight of Gypsy inching into the kitchen has practically scared her to death. "Ed?" She says, and Ed turns his orange head to look over his shoulder. "You've got a visitor."

"Huh? Oh, uh, hi," Ed says, rather confused as Gypsy enters the kitchen completely at this point and comes to sit at one of the metal counters. After a brief pause, Ed's pointing a soapy ladle at Gypsy. "You're the little Lareaux, aren't you?"

"Technically," Gypsy shrugs, "I'm a Kaeka, but for the sake of conversation, yes," she grins. "I guess I am the little Lareaux."

"That's cool," Ed nods, and he's visibly amused by the newcomer to the kitchen. He then looks to the tall, black haired woman and points to her with the ladle. "That's Katy," he says, "and I'm Ed."

"Gypsy," she replies.

"So, what can I do you for, Gypsy?" Ed asks, as Katy's eyes grow wide, "Awesome name," she exclaims, taking a seat across from her at the counter.

"Can I have a cookie?" She asks, and then blushes because she can actually hear how stupid she sounds.

Ed finishes with the dishes and laughs as he dries his hands on a towel. "Would you like a glass of milk with that, too?"

"Actually," Gypsy says, "that'd be pretty great," and she misses the way Ed smirks, "Would you like that in a bottle, too?"

Gypsy catches a laugh in her throat, watching Ed through narrowed eyes as he traverses to the refrigerator.

"Ignore him," Katy says with rolled eyes.

"It's alright," Gypsy replies because Ed is still laughing as he sets a plate of two cookies in front of her. "I'll take a bottle if you've got one."

"See?" Ed exclaims, pinching Katy softly through her sweater. "Gypsy's a good sport," and he turns to her, "How old are you, anyway?"

"Eighteen."

"A Team, or eighteen?"

Katy slaps Ed's hand away from his ear. "You're such a cornball."

"Gypsy likes me," Ed states, and he's got the milk for her, now. "I feed her."

"All true," Gypsy nods appreciatively.

"Hah!" Katy scoffs, "She'd like me too if you'd ever let me use the kitchen."

"And I told you no, Kitty Purry."

"Shut it, Ed, I swear-"

Gypsy swallows and turns to Katy, "You cook too?"

She replies with a shake of her head. "I bake."

"Even better."

"See!" Katy exclaims, jabbing at Ed with both pointer fingers, "Gypsy'd let me in the kitchen."

"I call taste-tester!"

So, Ed gives in. "Fine," he sighs, scratching his tattooed arm. Why Katy would need to use the kitchen based on her job, he'd never understand, but now Gypsy wants to taste and she practically owns the motel based on what Willie's said.

It wouldn't be too bad, right? Especially if Katy cleaned up...

And Katy lifts her hand to Gypsy's for a high-five. "Oh hell yeah," she exclaims. "I'm going to make you so fat, Gypsy, it's outrageous."

"I don't know," Ed replies, leaning his elbows on the counter. "You do see who's cookies she's eating now, don't you?"

Gypsy nods, lips on her glass.

Katy scoffs, wide-eyed at Gypsy. "We'll have a bake-off; then Gypsy can tell me who's chocolate chip cookies are best."

Gypsy nods because she quite likes the sound of that.

Ed lifts his hand to shake. "Bring it, Kitty."

"It's so on, Sheeran."

Gypsy falls asleep that night with her phone off.

She sleeps, though she still hasn't responded to Ashton.

She sleeps, and still hasn't responded to Michael or Luke.

Instead, she falls asleep with her phone off, dreaming of Australia with no idea that out of the four boys she wishes to join, one is asking about her and three are unable to give him an answer.

Instead, all this boy receives are shrugs and knowing looks that are driving him crazy-it's taken a lot for him to ask about Gypsy in the first place-and so everything is frustrating; from the sympathetic glances passing between his friends to the answers he's been receiving throughout the day.

"She's still not picking up the phone, mate."

"Sorry, Cal, she's still not answering."

"I'm sorry, Cal."

"Yeah, mate. Sorry."

-~*~-

Yay another update, yay! Okay, so comment and vote because I'm writing this one pretty fast for Camp Nano...let me not jinx myself, hehe. I'd love to hear your feedback on this story; it's fun to write.

Was it easy to tell who all of the new celebs were? Could you tell before you learned their names?

Love ya. Happy 4th, err'boday.