Galleria di Alexis Fawx

Football's back and this parking lot has already lost its mind — I'm three sips in and the game hasn't even started. Tell me you'd survive a tailgate with me.

Everyone on the Strip is getting dressed for tonight and I'm doing the exact opposite — sitting here running this room with nothing on and nobody to answer to. You think you'd last five minutes?

The city partied itself unconscious this weekend and I'm out here in the dirt with my tomatoes, not a stitch on and not a care. Mondays are mine and I'm spending this one exactly how I want. You want to get your hands dirty?

Bass still shaking my ribs and Allegiant's lights are shrinking in the rearview — sitting in parking lot traffic with every button that mattered already undone. Best night Vegas has had in a minute. Too bad you weren't in the passenger seat.

Aces pulled out a win and the whole arena was on its feet — now I'm home and still too wired to sit down. Jersey's the only thing I've got on and I don't see a reason to change that yet. You want to celebrate or what?

The espresso machine just finished its first pull and the city outside is still completely dark. Mornings like this I drink it alone — unless someone gives me a reason not to.

Whole city is out there chasing shows and paying triple for rides home — I'm on my couch with wine and nothing but this shirt, which stopped being buttoned about a glass ago. Tell me you wouldn't rather be here.

Making my own drink because nobody in this city pours like I do. You want to argue about that?

Last order shipped, books closed, everyone sent home — and now the office is mine. Being the boss means I answer to nobody, and right now that's exactly how I want it. You think you could handle me when I'm in charge?

Roaster's been running hot all afternoon and everything I was wearing is on the floor over by the burlap sacks. Perks of owning the place — nobody tells me to get dressed. You want a private tour?