Getting Lost with Boys

by Hailey Abbott

  Jake got out of the car and stretched while chatting on the phone. Cordelia could hear his conversation as she dangled out of the Charger and into the parking lot. He sounded as if he were being really nice. No caveman grunts or anything.

  “Yep, I’m standing next to the big thermometer. You’d really get a kick out of this,” she heard him say.

  “Of course, I wish you were here with me. Who else would get that this is the coolest thing ever?”

  Her ears perked up. He surely wasn’t talking to one of his buddies.

  “Describe it to you? Well, it’s like over one hundred feet tall and all these goofy tourists are taking pictures with it,” Jake said through some laughter. “I know. I was thinking the exact same thing.”

  Cordelia got up out of her crouch and wandered over toward Jake. She stared at the big thermometer just as he did. The only thing she got from the experience was that it was currently ninety-four degrees out, which she could’ve guessed based on the way her ivory, SPF-15-covered skin was sizzling under the intense blaze of the California sun. Otherwise, it was completely, utterly uninteresting to her. Even less interesting than the red-legged honey-bird that Paul kept going on about.

  Still, Jake kept laughing with whomever he was on the phone with, so apparently they thought this thing was a regular hoot. She gazed at it from different angles. That didn’t help either. And the more Jake giggled and guffawed, the more self-conscious Cordelia felt. She was flirting with the notion that her nemesis may be right—what if she was wound way too tightly to enjoy the hilarity of this—or anything, for that matter?

  “Okay, well, I gotta go. Your sister looked like she was going to puke, so I’d better get her to a handicapped restroom quick,” he said into the phone.

  What the hell?

  Jake clicked off his cell and put it in his pocket. “Molly says hi.”

  Cordelia gasped. “You were talking to Molly this whole time?”

  He shrugged. “Yeah. So?”

  “She didn’t say she wanted to speak to me?”

  “Um, no. What’s the problem?”

  Cordelia felt her eyelids twitching uncontrollably. “I better get some crackers and ginger ale,” she said as she made her way toward the nearby country store.

  “Grab me another Yoo-hoo!” Jake shouted.

  She was about to turn around, scream “Yoo-hoo this!” and give him the finger, but she didn’t. Cordelia was just too rattled by what had happened. Jake still seemed to be into her sister, and even worse, from the way he was acting, it seemed as if he believed Molly was the only person who would ever truly understand him.

  And that’s when it hit her. Why she hadn’t slept with Paul that day. Even though he was great and nice and gorgeous and smart, the one thing that she needed to feel sure of deep down in her gut just wasn’t quite there. Did she truly understand Paul, and as much as he seemed to like her, did he really understand her?

  Maybe she’d find out in another twenty-three hours.

  An hour and a half later, Cordelia, Jake, and the Charger rambled down Sunset Road in Las Vegas, where Jake’s ex-roommate, Mike, lived in an off-campus apartment. She’d never been to Vegas before, but she’d seen enough films and TV shows to know what the Strip was like. There’d be flashing neon signs towering above all the out-of-towners and gamblers who were trying their luck at the casinos. There’d be all-night restaurants, cabaret bars featuring topless dancers, and drunk people who were attending bachelor or bachelorette parties.

  That kind of thing wasn’t necessarily Cordelia’s idea of a good time. She’d much rather be listening to the roar of the waves at Pacific Beach and watching the sunset while lying down on a fluffy blanket. But she could see why people might get swept up in the glitziness of the city. They were only a few blocks from the Strip and she could feel the giddy vibe of people who were about to embark on an evening of debauchery.

  As for Cordelia, she would be spending another action-packed evening in Jacob Stein hell.

  “This must be the place,” he said, and swerved into a parking lot facing a row of apartments. A sign greeted them: WELCOME TO PARADISE COVE.

  The complex was actually pretty nice. Cordelia liked the beach-inspired style of the place and the open, airy architecture. Some of the windows held flower boxes, and pansies lined the walkway leading up to Mike’s unit. All of it reminded her of home.

  “There it is. Apartment twelve,” Jake said.

  But before they could get out, a large husky guy wearing a stained fraternity T-shirt, ripped cutoff jean shorts, and a backward UNLV baseball cap came bumbling out. “Yo, bro!” he yelled.

  Jake jumped out of the car while the other guy leaped over the ledge and enveloped him in a bear hug.

  Then the friendly stranger came around to the side and opened her door. She got out and took a good look at him. Red hair, bright blue eyes, freckles all over his nose and cheeks, and the goofiest, sweetest smile she’d seen on any boy.

  “Hey, you must be Cordy. I’m Mike Cavanaugh.”

  Cordelia immediately felt relaxed around Mike. He was that likable off the bat. “Nice to meet you,” she said, shaking his hand.

  “Your stuff in the trunk?” Mike asked.

  “We’ll get it later,” Jake said. “I’m wiped out and starving.”

  Mike chuckled. “You’re tired? Please, dude. How many all-nighters did you pull cramming for tests? Cordy, this guy was a total geek last semester. Barely partied at all.”

  She eyed Jake, who seemed to already regret introducing her to Mike. “Is that so?”

  “Oh my God. The guy never stopped studying. I thought his head was going to explode.”

  Jake put his hands in his pockets and slumped over a bit as if he’d been humiliated. Cordelia just smiled. All this time she’d thought Jake was a slacker, but apparently behind closed doors he was a hard worker. How crazy was that?

  Mike ushered them into his apartment, which was in typical college-guy condition. Beer cans were strewn around the living room; the kitchen was covered in empty pizza boxes; and there was a scent in the air that reminded Cordelia of either kitty litter or maximum strength kitty litter.

  “Maid’s day off,” Mike said with a grin. He opened a pizza box that had TONY’S emblazoned on the top and held out a cold slice to Cordy. “Want a snack? If you don’t like this, I’ve got plenty of stuff in the pantry.”

  “You’ve got a pantry?” Jake asked.

  “Yeah,” Mike said. “Most people call it a coat closet, but whatever. There is a ton of food in there. Doritos, Combos, pretty much anything ending with ‘os.’”

  Cordelia laughed. “Bring on the Doritos.”

  “Salsa, Cooler Ranch, or Guacamole flavored?”

  “Cooler Ranch,” Cordelia and Jake said in unison.

  “Aw, how sweet,” Mike said while punching Jake in the arm. “You guys are like twins or something.”

  “Just get the chips,” Jake snarled.

  Mike disappeared into the other room.

  Cordelia couldn’t help but smirk at Jake.

  “What?” he said, irritated.

  “I’m just happy we agree on something,” she replied.

  “Don’t get too happy. It’s probably a sign of the end of the world.”

  Cordelia put her hands on her hips. “And how come you never told me you were a nerd?”

  “I didn’t know you were so interested,” Jake said, raising an eyebrow.

  “I’m not,” she said quickly.

  It was strange, though. She kind of was interested.

  Mike came back with three bags of Cooler Ranch Doritos. “One for each of us,” he announced.

  Jake patted Mike on the back with brute force. “Thanks, man. You’re a gracious host.”

  “So, what do you guys want to do tonight?” Mike asked.

  “How about you and me heading out to a casino?” Jake suggested.

  That pissed Cordelia off. Jake obviously didn’t want her to tag along. What, wasn�
�t she cool enough to go? She could certainly hold her own with these guys.

  Mike nodded. “Sounds good to me.” He turned to Cordelia. “How about you? Wanna tear up the Strip?”

  “She can’t go,” Jake snapped. “Cordy can’t pass for twenty-one like us.”

  “That’s ridiculous,” Cordelia said.

  “Doesn’t even matter,” Mike said flippantly. “I’m tight with one of the bouncers at Mandalay Bay; he’ll let her in.”

  Jake fidgeted. “Well, gambling’s not her thing anyway. She’s more of the stay-at-home-and-knit type.”

  “You are so full of crap, Jake,” she said curtly.

  Mike let out a belly laugh. “Seems like she’s feisty to me, man. I say she’s in.”

  Cordelia wasn’t usually a gloater, but she just couldn’t help herself this time. She took a chip, tossed it into her mouth, and then gave Jake her best “so there” grin.

  Judging from what she knew of Mike, she had a good feeling that she might even have fun tonight. Now if only Molly were around to help her pick out what to wear….

  Chapter Seven

  Cordelia arrived at Mandalay Bay around ten thirty that night. She was dressed in her very, very skimpy purple dress and flanked by two really good-looking guys. This could mean only one thing. They had all somehow traveled into some alternate Molly-engineered universe, where everybody was gorgeous and destined to have a good time.

  In fact, Cordelia had been feeling rather Mollyesque ever since she’d left Paradise Cove. She had called her sister to ask what kind of ensemble would make her look older, but all she got was voice mail: “Leave a message for Molly. Ciao!” So Cordelia had had to fend for herself. Luckily, she was in possession of Molly’s suitcase, which was filled with clothes her sister called ARAP (As Revealing As Possible) and an unlimited supply of fruit-scented beauty products.

  She wasn’t able to find anything that fit her, though—Molly’s torso was very long and lean while the distance between Cordelia’s neck and waist measured exactly fifteen inches. (She calculated these types of things very carefully.) But she’d remembered that she’d agreed to pack that sexy get-up Molly had given her for her birthday. After applying a light coat of Cargo bronzer on her sun-deprived face and Tarte glistening powder on her arms and legs, she’d slipped the dress on, thrown on her favorite strappy Steve Madden platform sandals (for maximum height), and pinned her hair up in a loose French twist.

  From the way Mike kept checking her out and flirting with her on the ride over, and the unblinking stare the bouncer was giving her that very minute, Cordelia realized that it was the first time she actually resembled her sister. Wherever she turned, boys’ mouths were agape. She may have even spotted a little bit of drooling.

  But there was absolutely, positively no reaction from Jacob Stein. Not even a “You look nice,” or a “Cool shoes.” In fact, when Mike had opened his car door for her earlier, Jake pushed right past her, yelled “Shotgun,” and then jumped into the passenger seat. Her juiced-up appearance had not affected him at all, not that Cordelia cared or anything.

  Mike punched his bouncer friend playfully on the shoulder. “How’s it hanging, big guy?”

  “Things are cool, man,” he replied. “Are these friends of yours?”

  “Yeah, this is Jake. He was my roommate last year,” Mike said as he peered into a window and checked out how his hair gel was holding up. In a pair of tight-fitting sandblasted Lucky jeans and a navy blue button-down shirt, Mike cleaned up real good (as opposed to Jake, who didn’t even change his sweaty I-want-you-to-think-I-got-this-at-a-thrift-shop-but-I-really-bought-itat-Aéropostale T-shirt).

  Jake shook the bouncer’s hand firmly. “Hey.”

  “And who is this fine young thing?” the bouncer asked.

  An enormous lump formed in Cordelia’s throat. She’d never had an older guy leer at her like this before, and it was making her uncomfortable. Then Mike put his arm around her and pulled her close, which made her feel a bit more protected.

  “Cordy’s with me,” he replied. “She’s a sophomore at University of South Carolina. We met on the Internet. Isn’t that right, sweetie?”

  At first, Cordelia was totally confused. But quickly she realized that Mike was just trying to help her get into the casino, so she thought she should play along. “That’s right, honey.”

  Mike kissed her on the forehead and winked at the bouncer. “She’s the one; I can feel it.”

  Suddenly, Jake coughed something under his breath, which sounded kind of like, “Shutthehellup.”

  The bouncer threw back his head and laughed. “Get your ass inside before somebody else spots ya.”

  “Thanks,” Mike said, pushing Cordelia and Jake ahead of him.

  As soon as Cordelia went through the revolving door, she couldn’t believe her eyes. Mandalay Bay was like nothing she’d ever seen before. She kind of expected to be blinded by gaudiness, but the place was actually very classy. Well-dressed and distinguished-looking people were milling about. In the center of the room, there was a gigantic island, filled with foliage, palm trees, and cascading water, underneath a ceiling painted like the desert sky. A golden glow emanated from above them and covered the room in a dizzying haze. The game tables were made out of dark oak, and the dealers wore crisp uniforms and appeared to be in control with each flip of the card.

  When the group came to a halt in the middle of the casino floor, Jake shoved Mike really hard. Cordelia flinched. She wasn’t sure if he was just fooling around or not, but Jake seemed rather aggravated.

  “What was that for?”

  “For being a shit. We almost got busted back there,” Jake replied.

  “I told you, me and Rudy are buds,” Mike said stiffly.

  “Relax, dude. Why do you have to be so high-strung?”

  Cordelia couldn’t contain her laughter. “Bawah-haha!”

  Jake turned and sneered at her. “What’s so funny?”

  She glared right back. “Nothing.”

  Jake thrust his hands into his pockets and gazed over at the craps tables. Meanwhile, Mike seemed to be over their spat already. He eyed one of the many young women in micro miniskirts and sequined asymmetrical tank tops who were moving through the crowds, holding trays of paper umbrella-embellished cocktails.

  “Want something to drink?” Mike asked her.

  “Just a Diet Coke or something like that,” Cordelia replied. “Thanks.”

  Mike nodded approvingly. “Smart,” he said. “You know why they push the free drinks at these places, don’t you? So people will get tanked and blow more money.”

  Cordelia could see that. People were either blitzed and stumbling around, looking very happy and screaming things like, “One more mai tai!” or zonked out in front of slot machines, their bodies operating on automatic as they rhythmically shoved tokens into slots and pulled levers.

  A Brooke Burke clone showed up and handed Cordelia a soda.

  “Jack on the rocks?” she said to Mike, who slipped her a small wad of cash in exchange for her phone number.

  Cordelia watched Jake’s reaction. He rolled his eyes and huffed as if he was annoyed at Mike for acting like a slick gambler. This really surprised her. Why would it matter to Jake what Mike did? He was as laid-back as they come, right? Nothing ever fazed him and everything was a big joke. He loved pointing out how Cordelia’s organized and structured nature was a complete buzzkill. Now here they were in an amazing Las Vegas casino and Jake seemed just so…cautious.

  “All right, lady and gentleman. We’ve got money to burn and liquor to ingest,” Mike said right before throwing back his entire glass of Jack Daniel’s.

  Jake frowned. “Take it easy, man. It’s early.”

  “There aren’t any clocks in here for a reason, dude. So we won’t know what time it is.”

  “You’re a risk-taker, Jake. Don’t you want to gamble?” Cordelia asked sarcastically.

  “Of course, he does. Let’s start playing and win big. I’m i
n the mood for a steak tonight.” Mike put his empty glass on a waitress’s tray and ordered another JD. Then he turned to Cordelia. “Okay, what’s your game?”

  “Cordy doesn’t have a game,” Jake said. “She’s not into fun.”

  She shot him a venomous look. Just ignore him and maybe he’ll evaporate into thin air, she thought.

  “So what’s good for a beginner? The slot machines?”

  “Nah, slots are for suckers,” Mike said. “Try roulette.”

  But before they could begin, they all had to pay a visit to the cashier booths.

  “How much do you want to spend, high roller?” Mike asked with a grin.

  Cordelia pulled out some money from her wallet. “Ten dollars’ worth, please,” she told the woman at the window.

  “That’s not going to get you anywhere,” Mike advised. “You gotta spend money to make money.”

  Jake had to add his two cents, of course. “Don’t buy any more chips, Cordy. I’m serious. You can’t risk more than you’re willing to lose. That’s how you get into trouble.”

  There was this fatherly tone in his voice that sounded so condescending, and Cordelia was tired of hearing it. What were the odds that Jake had ever said something like that to Molly? Slim to none. If Molly had put down a million dollars, Jake probably would have told her how savvy and reckless and cool she was being. If Molly had put down a nickel, Jake probably would have commented on how wise and smart she was being. Cordelia was facing the facts. Jake criticized her every move, but he never did that to Molly, no matter how frivolous or careless she was. Which is precisely why Cordelia took out all the money in her wallet and slapped it down in front of the cashier.

  “Are you nuts?” Jake exclaimed.

  “That’s ballsy, girl,” Mike said. “I like your style.” He grabbed a fresh drink and led them to a table where hopeful gamblers were placing chips on a board of red and black numbered squares.

  “What’s your lucky number?” Mike asked.

  “I don’t have one,” Cordelia said. “No, wait, I’ll play my age.”