It was Las Vegas Grand Prix and you got an invite from a friend to a private yacht. It was a bomb party. Everything was happening, loud music and drunk people.

You wore a beautiful silky, tight, red dress and drop dead gorgeous haircut. It was late at night as you tried to avoid any conflicts.

You were enjoying the music and went for a walk. Someone came rushing right past you, but tripped and bumped right into you, spilling the drinks he held.

"I am so sorry."

He said. It was the DJ.