by Vivian Wood
Luna elbows me. “Are you okay, Cate?”
She tucks a strand of dark hair behind one ear, looking flawless as always. She pulls off her bob and her white wrap dress so easily. I flush, looking down at my threadbare jeans. I won’t make a big deal about money, though she has infinitely more of it than I do…
“Yeah, sure,” I say, trying to brighten my tone. “Just worried about work. Javier wasn’t thrilled when I told him I had to take this weekend off. I told him I covered my shift but he gave me this whole lecture about responsibility.”
Her brows lift. “But you’ve never taken a sick day or requested vacation at all in the time that you’ve been working at the cafe! You’re just one barista… what is the harm in you asking for a few days off?”
I wrinkle my nose. “I know. You would think from the amount of hassle he gave me that I’d just asked him to give me a kidney or something.”
Our other best friend from college Harper leans over from Luna’s other side. She’s blonde and pretty, but she doesn’t pull a single punch. “Your job sucks.”
Luna nods emphatically. “It really does. You should make Luca hire you to work at his bar. I heard one of the bartenders talking last week about how much she makes working just three days a week. Can you imagine just working the weekends and making way more than you do now?”
“My kitten Lyra would like if I just never worked again. So much more time to devote to petting her!” I joke. “Will your brother pay me just to knit and pet my cat, I wonder?”
Obviously I am just kidding; the idea of Luca being my boss makes me nothing short of queasy. I know I’m stubborn but the idea of taking anything from anyone is hard. I almost refused when Luca texted me an invite to this weekend.
An all exclusive weekend, all airfare and hotel already paid for? The idea still makes me squirm and blush. I could never afford that, not when I’m only a year out of college and making a whopping nine dollars an hour.
Well, nine dollars an hour plus tips. I roll my eyes to myself. Like that really matters.
Luca looks up at me. His casual smile falls just a little and he cocks an eyebrow. What are you looking at? he seems to say. I blush, darting my gaze away. When I glance back for a moment, he is focusing on what his friend Owen is saying.
“I can’t believe we are actually in Vegas for the weekend,” Luna says to me and Harper. She grins excitedly. “I might actually start my day tomorrow at the pool. Try to soak up all the sun that I don’t get at home in Seattle.”
“I can’t believe your brother paid to fly all of us out here,” Harper says. She eyes Luca, who sits between two of his best friends. She sighs wistfully. “What a birthday gift. He’s paying for the flight, the hotel, and basically everything else? I am so jealous that you have Luca.” Dropping her voice, she whispers the last bit. “And having your brother and his two hunky best friends to stare at doesn’t hurt, either.”
“Mm,” I say again, giving her my most disgruntled expression. “Luca’s hot, but so rude. No offense, Luna.”
She shrugs. “None taken. I know my brother can be a tool.”
“Well, I’m totally gonna get drunk tonight,” Harper declares. “And so are you, Miss ‘My Birthday Isn’t Until Tomorrow’ and Miss ‘I’m Catholic And Perfect’.”
She casts an eye over us. Luna laughs. “It will technically be my birthday at midnight… can you believe I’ll be twenty-five?”
“You’re so old,” I tease, elbowing her in the ribs. “I won’t be twenty-five until April.”
“We should do something for our birthdays again this year,” Harper says. “Yours is the 14th, right? Mine is April 20th.” She looks thoughtful.
The shuttle lurches to a stop and Luca stands up, clearing his throat. “This is our hotel. Come on, everybody off.”
The next few minutes are taken up by struggling off the shuttle bus with our bags. Our huge hotel and the Vegas strip are a blur as we lug ourselves through the fancy marble lobby, receive our keys, and head up the elevators. To my surprise, Luca has booked two enormous suites on the same floor, one for the girls and one for the guys.
I use my keycard, stopping in my tracks with wide eyes as soon as I burst into our suite. It has an enormous window at one end, two stories high, looking down on a fancy white kitchenette and a big white living room. Everything is white and lavish, without a doubt.
“Come on, let us in,” Harper says, gently pushing me aside with her shoulder.
“Sorry,” I say, nervously moving out of the doorway. “This place must have cost Luca a small fortune to rent for the weekend. And there is one like it for the guys too?” I whistle.
Luna shrugs, looking around. “He said he got a deal. Where are the bedrooms?”
Harper is already making her way down the little hallway tucked away almost out of view. “Over here.”
“Yesssss,” Luna says, rolling her suitcase over. I drift behind them as they go down the hallway, opening bedroom doors. She launches herself into one of the rooms, jumping up and down on the bed. “This bed is so nice!! Oooh and look! Complimentary champagne…” She grins at me. “We are gonna be so drunk before dinner.”
Smiling, I shake my head at her. Finding my identical room, I wheel my luggage in.
Harper yells from her own room. “It’s time to change for pre-dinner drinks!”
“And Cate, do not come out of that room wearing jeans!” Luna calls. “I mean it! Wear something a little daring for once in your life.”
No one is around to see my blush. The girls like to rib me about how I dress conservatively, about how I don’t usually drink or do drugs. What can I say, I was raised to be a good, God-fearing Catholic.
Like a go to Mass on Wednesdays kind of Catholic. A visit the cemetery to talk to Mom and Dad even though it makes me super sad kind of Catholic.
So when I step out of my bedroom in a new black lace dress that barely covers my butt, Luna and Harper look at me with a fair amount of surprise. Harper pulls off a pink jumper perfectly, and Luna looks amazing in a sparkly silver dress that hugs her curves. I tug on the lace sleeves of my dress, embarrassed.
“Is it okay?” I ask.
“Oh my god!” Harper cries. “I’ve been trying to get you to dress like this for my whole life, I feel like.”
“That dress fits you perfectly,” Luna says. “It’s gorgeous.”
When I walk over to her, she hugs me, taking care to tuck the price tag of the dress back into the nape of my neck. I blush again; I didn’t want Luna and Harper to know that I’ll be returning this dress first thing on Monday morning.
“Thanks,” I say, bowing my head. She hugs me for a second longer, her eyes sparkling when she pulls away. She winks at me.
Harper is already popping a bottle of champagne. It spills over while she pours a little into each glass, delighting her. “Get your glasses!”
We rush to grab our champagne flutes from the bar, toasting.
“To Luna,” I say. “May you be blessed and fruitful in the coming year.”
Harper holds her glass up. “And may you get so drunk that you can’t see tonight… but not spend all night puking. Happy birthday, love.”
We cheers, sipping the bubbly brew. When we’ve downed that glass, Harper refills our flutes. “Thank God for your brother, Luna. Whatever possessed him to plan this trip, I’m so glad to be here.”
Luna snorts. “I think it’s more of a sign that he is over getting dumped by Madisyn than an homage to me, honestly.”
That makes me sit up a little straighter. “It’s been almost three months,” I murmur. “It’s about time he got over her. I can’t believe they were almost married! She was just so… awful.”
Harper cocks a brow. “Really? Even you didn’t like her? I thought you were all, ‘everyone is nice, sometimes we just can’t see it’ or whatever.”
An image of the gorgeous brunette with her designer clothes and sky-high heels pops into my head. Even in my mind, she has a bitchy expression. I p
ull a face. “She was awfully rude to me. And to Luna, even. You can say anything you want to me, but don’t you dare talk bad about my friends. After that, I couldn’t help but develop a distaste.”
“Well, well.” Harper grins. “Welcome to the dark side, Cate. It’s nice here. We have the best cocktails.”
Luna looks down at her cell phone screen. “Luca says that we are leaving for dinner and a show in ten minutes.”
“That’s enough time to put on our shoes and have a third glass of bubbles…” Harper says, her eyes sparkling mischievously.
“Wait, will one of you please do my eyeshadow?” I plead.
Luna looks between us, grinning. “I have a good feeling about tonight. We are going to have the best time, girls.”
As Harper fills up my glass again, I bite my lip. Here in our hotel room, I’m fine. It’s just when I get outside, when people are looking at me… that makes me anxious. No, let’s be honest. The very idea of doing something stupid while Luca looks on, judging me…
That makes me shake.
Yeah, I’m going to have to drink a lot more to make that okay. I down my third glass in a single gulp and hurry to get my shoes from my room.
Chapter Two
Luca
“Are you having a good time?” I shout in Luna’s ear.
She is seated beside me at the dance club, wedged into the semicircle of a booth while we watch the lights flash. We’re on the second floor, a little removed from the noisy dance floor. The music is still loud as fuck, but it’s muffled slightly on the second floor. Above our heads, there is a TV with a stream playing of the semi famous DJ who is spinning records on the stage below.
Luna looks up at me with a grin. “Yes. Thank you, Luca. Bringing me and my best friends to Vegas was an amazing idea.”
“No problem,” I call back with a shrug. “Since I own a music venue, almost everything you want to do this weekend is free for us. I scratch this club owner’s back, he scratches mine. Same with the hotel; I book a few acts that the hotel manager wants to promote, he gives me a discount, etc., so forth.” I flap a hand.
“Well you should get something out of it, since you work like all the time,” she shouts, wrinkling her nose. “You should get way more weekends like this one.”
I shrug again. “I make do.”
A fast-paced song comes on and Luna squeals. “Omigod! I love this song!”
She grabs Harper’s hand and drags her down to the dance floor, leaving me alone in the booth. Owen and Bradford never even made it this far, scouting people that they wanted to flirt with as soon as we got in the door of the club. I sit back with a sigh.
As much as I want to party and get drunk, a part of me is still in big brother mode. I will be vigilant no matter what, which means I’m not going to totally cut loose. Which is fine, because I’m still brooding about my failed engagement.
I try to think of what Madisyn is doing right now. Probably going out to dinner with some guy that isn’t me, batting her lashes and trying to figure out his net worth. Yeah, Madisyn is kind of shallow; she is one of those girls that picks men based on good looks and a fat bank account… but she was very hot and very quantifiable.
What you see with her, you get. End of story.
I glance up from my brooding to see my little sister’s friend Cate sitting down in the booth. I narrow my gaze at her; she blushes and hooks a strand of her long, wavy hair behind her ear.
Sending my gaze up and down her figure, I realize that she’s actually pretty. Pretty and extremely short. Her head probably lands a whole foot below mine.
Too bad I can’t stand her. Since I’ve known Cate, she’s been annoying and usually downright unpleasant to be around. I swear, I made one crack about her when I first met her and she’s turned up her nose at me ever since.
But a vague dislike on my part was cemented into a cold, hard hate by the end of the first month that she was friends with Luna.
I’ll admit that I think she’s hot. I’ve seen her in a barely-there black bikini, her tits and ass and legs looking like a million fucking bucks.
One toss of her dark hair. One glance over her shoulder. One glimpse of those big, dark eyes set in her elfin face. And then she bent down in front of me, her eyes flirting even as she reached for the sunblock…
My brain practically melted.
Cate short circuits my thoughts by sitting on the very edge of the seat, looking extremely uncomfortable. I’m entirely sure that if Cate had her way, I wouldn’t be on this trip at all.
That makes me smirk. I beckon to her with two fingers and she scoots further into the booth.
“Where’s the librarian today?” I ask, accidentally getting a little too close to her ear. She reacts visibly, glancing up at me with those wide, curious eyes.
“What librarian?”
I can’t help it. I rib her a little. “The librarian whose clothes you usually steal. You know, skirts below your knees, cardigans buttoned up to your neck…” I grin. “Or is it a nun who you’ve been defrocking?”
Her cheeks go a vivid, angry red. “I’m so sorry that I don’t just strip naked and strut around trying to please you, Luca. That’s not the world I inhabit. I have a purpose other than to make your jeans tight, okay?”
I roll my eyes. “Of course, Miss Feminist. But nobody said that you had to dress like a ninety-year-old lady just because you don’t want to accidentally turn anybody on.”
Cate gives me sour look. “That’s just your opinion.”
I reach for my drink, swirling the ice cubes around in their whiskey bath. “Me and the rest of the male population, you mean.”
Though I’m teasing her, my eye does drop to her dress. Made of black satin, it’s pretty damn short. Until now, until I actually laid eyes on her gleaming legs, I would’ve probably assumed that Cate didn’t have legs worth noticing.
But I’m noticing them now. I’m making note of the way that dress hugs her body, the hemline barely covering the vee between her legs.
Yeah, all right. Cate is not horrible to look at. Not by a long shot, if that often-recalled memory of her is right. It’s just too bad that she hides herself away most of the time.
She hasn’t always been like this. Frigid and blocky. She used to merely be annoying.
“Stop staring,” she mutters, blushing. She rolls her eyes a little and reaches for the bottle of champagne chilling in a bucket of ice on the table. She refills her glass, spilling a little of the bubbles. It’s only then that I realize that Cate is drunk.
For some reason, that thought makes me smile. When she glances back up at me, she sees me smiling and gives me a distrustful look.
“What?” I ask, splaying my hand out. I take up plenty of space in the booth, man-spreading with a kind of glee. I know that it gets her goat, otherwise I wouldn’t do it.
“You are just such a guy,” she declares, looking away.
“Don’t even start with that shit.” I sip my whiskey for a second, eyeing her. “Is this about the Beatles again?”
Her gaze darts back to me, her eyes narrowing almost to slits. “Oh my god. You and the Beatles!! I’m a millennial, alright? I don’t even know why the Beatles are a big deal. Or the Rolling Stones or like… I don’t even know. U2, I guess?”
I push my glass away, disgusted. “U2 and the Beatles are not the same.”
She is so snotty. “I’m sorry I don’t like Radiohead or whoever you think is the best band ever.”
I can feel my chest puff out and my brain start to overheat.
“How can you even say that? Radiohead has three of the best rock albums of all time. And one of the best electronica albums too, incidentally.” I narrow my gaze. "And I’m a millennial too, you know. I’m only twenty-seven. I happen to just have good taste.”
She takes another sip of champagne. “Whatever. So what? So I like the music in the top 100. Not everybody is a snob.”
“People that call me a music snob have literally no perspective in mus
ic,” I point out to her, grinding my teeth.
“So?” she asks with a shrug. “You’re so hung up on music. I’m just not. It’s like religion… I believe in Jesus, you… well, you don’t. We just don’t see eye to eye. We never have.”
She’s right. I’m definitely an atheist. “I’ve known you for eight years—“
“Nine,” she corrects me.
That causes me to roll my eyes again. “All right, nine years. And you’ve been irritating every single one of them.”
“Kettle, you’re black.” She sips her drink. It takes me a few seconds to realize she’s saying the I’m the pot and I’m calling the kettle black. “Mm. This champagne is good. Did this get better somehow?”
A low chuckle escapes me. “I think you might be drunk, Little Miss Goody Two Shoes.”
She looks at me with a startled expression. “Am I? I’ve been drunk before and I don’t remember it being so…” She screws up her face. “Mmm… I feel lovely.”
She scoots inward into the booth a little more, her face flushed. The corners of my mouth tip up. She really is pretty when she’s not using her mouth as a way to destroy me.
Then she stops what she’s doing and looks at me, her brows drawing down.
“Oh, I think I’m really going to regret this tomorrow. Anytime that I really enjoy myself, I pay for it later.” She nods sagely, but that is a little overtaken by how drunk she appears.
I cock a brow. Is that how she sees everything in her life? Or does she just mean partying? Either way, it’s kind of sad.
“You’re going to have a hangover in the morning,” I agree.
She looks at me, her brown eyes seeming impossibly large. “How did I end up here? I’m in Vegas. I should be partying and have a good time, not worrying about tomorrow. And definitely not telling you about it.” She shakes her head. “You’re the closest thing I think I’ve ever had to an enemy, you know that?”
Snorting, I pick up my glass of whiskey, upending the whole thing into my mouth and swallowing down. Alcohol is apparently a truth serum for Cate, which is just another thing that we don’t have in common. Whiskey is my friend, even when it gives me hangovers.
