Waking up in Vegas

by Natasha Preston

  “Fuck off. I’ll find someone I want to sleep with. That girl isn’t it.”

  Luke narrows his eyes. “You’re just not usually this picky. That girl is hot.”

  Ignoring them, I turn to my beer placed in front of me and take a massive swig.

  “Bro, is everything okay?” Mase asks. His voice has changed from teasing to concerned.

  “Yeah, of course it is.”

  “We might joke and fuck around, but you can talk to us,” Luke says.

  I can, and I know that. Things aren’t always light-hearted with us. I’ve had many deeper conversations with Luke and Mase. I find Luke easier to talk to, and I’m unsure if that’s because he’s not family or because he can be serious.

  “Guys, there is nothing wrong. I just don’t fancy that chick enough to sleep with her. I’m looking though, all right?”

  They concede then, and things somewhat return to normal.

  Lifting his hand, Luke gestures for the bartender. “Can I get another three beers and three shots of tequila?”

  “Sambuca,” I say. “We’ll do shots of Sambuca.”

  “You’re such a pussy,” Luke teases.

  Nope, just very much over tequila.

  “It tastes like shit.” And marriage.

  Mase shakes his head, discouraged, his dark hair flopping. “Hold on, boys. Look what’s happening here.”

  I crane my neck to see about ten women walk into the bar, wearing bright pink T-shirts that have black script on the front—Bride’s Army.

  A hen party.

  Luke’s pale eyes pop. “Well, well, well.”

  I groan inwardly and then I find myself saying, “I get first shot with the blonde in the gold heels.”

  She’s gorgeous; it will be no hardship talking to her. Do I want to take her back to my room? I want to want that. I really do.

  Mase playfully slaps my shoulder. “He’s back. I’m going for the redhead.”

  Luke and I glance at him. Mase always goes for dark hair.

  “Hey, in Vegas, we can do things we don’t usually.”

  I wholeheartedly agree.

  “I like this,” Luke replies. “Okay, I’m going blonde.”

  All right, he’s more a brunette man, but Luke doesn’t typically have a type. He likes women. They just often happen to have brown hair. Aren’t there more brunettes in the world? He’s just upping his chances.

  “You changing it up, Brody?”

  No, never again.

  “Maybe tomorrow.”

  “What the fuck is she doing here?” Luke scowls, neck craning.

  I follow his line of sight.

  Wren. She is beautiful. Sitting in the bar, where she was the other night with the pool prick. Tonight, she’s minus the pool prick because he’s fucked off and gone home.

  “Don’t cause a scene,” Mase says, blocking Luke with his arm as he jumps from his stool. “I’ll go and talk to her.”

  “Invite her over,” I tell him. “That way, we can keep an eye on her.”

  Shut up! What are you doing?

  Luke’s face scrunches like I’ve offended him. “What the fuck? I’m taking her to her room.”

  Think! My pulse buzzes. “You think she’ll stay there?”

  “Fuck’s sake,” he growls. “Go and get her, Mase.”

  With mild amusement, I watch Mase walk over to Wren. Her face falls as she spots him. She knows she’s really busted now. Her eyes wildly search for Luke.

  They exchange words for a minute, and then she gets up.

  “She’s a fucking nightmare,” Luke grumbles.

  “Not disagreeing with you there.”

  “You don’t like her?” he asks.

  It’s no secret that Wren and I aren’t as close as everyone else, but I never thought it came across as dislike.

  I turn to him. “Of course I do. It’s harder with her being younger.”

  He nods. “I worry about her way more than Emma.” He’s right to.

  Wren and Mase reach us, and he points to his old stool. She sits between Luke and me while Mase takes the empty one on the other side of me. I can smell her perfume, and the hairs on the back of my neck rise.

  “And you’re in the bar because…?” Luke says.

  Wren smiles, her eyes briefly flitting to me. “Because I’m bored and looking for someone to buy me a drink.”

  Luke’s eyes become slits. “Where are Emma and Felicity?”

  “They got a text from the guys they’d met the other night.”

  My chest burns. “And left you?”

  “No, I told them to go. I wasn’t really feeling girls’ night anyway.”

  Her eyes lock with mine, and I instantly get it. I’m not having the time of my life tonight, either.

  “You feeling a boys’ night?” Mase asks her. “Because we’re about to crash a hen party.”

  Wren turns her nose up, and I can tell she’s thinking I want nothing to do with weddings.

  “Sounds fun,” she chirps.

  Mase points them out. “I’m going for her, Luke for her, and Brody for her.”

  I watch Wren’s expression darken, and her shoulders stiffen.

  I came to Vegas not even wanting a girlfriend. Thanks to tequila, I now have a wife.

  And she’s pissed.

  “Go ahead,” she says. “Don’t let me stop you from scoring.”

  Luke and Mason take her words at face value. Only I understand the challenge behind them. Wren couldn’t care less about what I do. She sure is interested in how I will handle my wife watching me crack onto a stranger.

  “Ladies,” Mason says as half the group head our way.

  Wren’s eyes find mine and she watches with the hottest poker face. I don’t know if she wants to kill me for considering chatting to someone else or if she really doesn’t care at all.

  I guess I’m about to find out.

  I stand up and smile at the blonde in the gold heels.

  “Hi,” she says.

  “Hello.”

  Her dark eyes widen on a gasp. “You’re British!”

  Behind me Wren mutters, “No shit.”

  Sarcastic little shit.

  “I’m Brody.”

  Her pink lips open in a wide smile. “I’m Cassidy. Do you have to go home soon?”

  “I have a few days left.”

  She twirls her hair around her finger. “Do you have any plans?”

  “I think I might now.”

  Wren scoffs. “Lame.”

  Cassidy looks over my should like she’s unsure if Wren is talking to us or not.

  “That’s Wren, Luke’s kid sister,” I tell her, nodding to Luke. He’s deep in conversation, charming smile on, gently touching the arm of Cassidy’s friend.

  My back is to Wren so I can’t see her response, but I do know that the temperature drops about a thousand degrees.

  Cassidy’s eyes light up again. “Shall we get a drink?”

  “Absolutely.”

  Eighteen

  Wren

  In the morning, I skipped breakfast because I couldn’t stomach anything, so now, I’m sitting on my bed while Emma and Felicity get ready for our day of shopping. Last night sucked. I need to forget it and make the most of the time I have left.

  I don’t know if Brody slept with the slut from the hen party or anyone else, but what do I care?

  I made my excuse to leave after ten minutes because I didn’t want to be around to watch him flirt with some woman. He should be stressed out like me and unable to hold down a conversation with a stranger. Hell, I’m struggling with my siblings and friends.

  I tug the hem of my tank while chewing my lip half off.

  They’re taking ages to do their makeup. I don’t know who they expect to meet out while shopping.

  Maybe retail therapy will be good for me—take my mind off the whole marriage thing. I don’t know how much shopping a person has to do to forget an unwanted marriage, but I’m positive I don’t have the luggage allowance
.

  “Wren, what the hell is going on?” Emma asks, sighing and shoving her hands on her hips.

  “Nothing.”

  “You’re sitting there like you’re about to throw up. I’ve never seen you so pale, and your lip is sore where you keep biting it.”

  A drunken marriage will do that to a girl. And it is definitely just the marriage. I at least have the good sense to take contraception. One little injection every eleven weeks and no babies for Wren.

  “And you barely touched dinner last night, and then you didn’t eat this morning,” Felicity adds. “Talk to us, hon. It’s been two days that you’ve been like this. Has something happened?”

  My throat closes up, and I feel the first sting of tears behind my eyes.

  The weight of my secret presses down on my chest, compressing my lungs and making my heart sprint. I hate the feeling of something being so utterly out of my control.

  I have to pretend, and I’ve never been a good actress.

  No one can know. I can’t tell Emma and Felicity, even as much as I want to. Brody and I agreed that we would deal with it together.

  You don’t have to advertise that you have a failed marriage.

  There will be another piece of paper that we will hide away with the marriage certificate.

  “I’m fine,” I say, but even to my own ears, with my croaky voice, I don’t sound like I am. Gagging, I cover my mouth and wince.

  Emma shakes her head. “Bullshit. You’re scaring me now. Something’s wrong, and you need to tell me. I mean it, Wren.”

  She sits on the bed with me, and I can barely make eye contact because her face is contorted with worry, eyes brimmed with tears.

  Felicity joins us. “Does this have something to do with Brody?”

  My breath leaves my lungs like I’m winded.

  I press my lips together to stop the words from flowing. Felicity’s question makes my stomach hurt.

  Emma looks between us with her eyebrows knitted together. She doesn’t suspect.

  “Why would this have anything to do with Brody?” I ask, swallowing a golf ball and a whole lot of guilt.

  Then, I feel it—the action that contradicts my words. A scorching hot tear rolling down my cheek. It falls faster than I can stop it, so I duck my head.

  No, no, no.

  “God, Wren, what’s happened?” Emma asks, her voice thick. She scoots closer and wraps her arm around mine.

  I swipe the stupid tear with the back of my hand. “Nothing really. It’s dumb.”

  Maybe I can pretend I like him and he doesn’t feel the same.

  “It’s not dumb, and I’m not blind,” Felicity says.

  “He likes everyone else,” I say feebly.

  Felicity deadpans. “I’m not dumb either. He’s different, too. What’s really going on?”

  Emma, bless her, looks so lost. “Someone needs to explain. What’s going on between you and Brody? Are you a thing?”

  Before I can stop myself, I say, “It’s so much worse than that. We’re married.”

  The room spins. I close my eyes. The only sound is the soft hum of the air-conditioning unit.

  “You’re what?” Felicity asks.

  Oh God, what have I done?

  “Wren!” Emma snaps.

  “Okay.” I take a breath and open my eyes. Licking my dry lips, I spill the story. “The day before yesterday, Brody found me in the hotel bar with this guy Dale who I’d met at the pool earlier,” I tell them for context. “I think Brody wanted to stop that from happening again. He was worried something would happen because I didn’t know Dale. He left the club where he was with Mase and Luke, and he messaged me, telling me to join him in his room for a movie night.”

  “I’ll kill him!” Felicity explodes.

  “No, don’t say anything! He didn’t plan any of this. I asked him for a proper drink, and we drank from the mini fridge.”

  Emma shakes her head. “Skip to the married part, Wren.”

  “We went out to a bar and met this couple who were getting married. There was a lot of tequila. I swear, we only went with them to witness their marriage. But somehow, we ended up at this place to get the marriage licence, and…” I wince, “we got one ourselves.”

  Emma’s body sags. “That’s it? Babe, a licence doesn’t mean you’re married.”

  I wring my hands to stop them from trembling. “I know that. But we took the licence to a chapel, and that’s where an Elvis impersonator married us.”

  “No! No way. That’s bullshit. Show me the marriage certificate!” Emma demands.

  “Brody has it.”

  “Wait, back up. You are legally married?” Felicity asks.

  I dip my chin. “Yes.”

  “But you were drunk. You can get it annulled.”

  Oh, I wish it were that simple. “We tried. We couldn’t tell them we were drunk because I’m underage and he’s not. Besides, they don’t look too kindly on people who think they can erase every mistake. It’s not as easy as you’d think to get an annulment, Fliss. You have to get the licence first. You have to go to two places, and they expect you to put a stop to it before you reach the second one if it’s not what you really want to do.”

  “Jesus Christ,” Emma mutters. “We can argue that, surely. What are the other guidelines for an annulment? You must meet them.”

  “We don’t, and we’ve already been denied. The only thing we can do now is get divorced.”

  Emma stands abruptly, almost pulling me over as she removes her arm. She walks the length of the room, spins on her heel, and walks back again. “How could you, Wren? What the hell were you thinking? You’re eighteen!” she roars.

  I duck my head. What can I say? I’m an idiot. I didn’t think. It seemed like a good idea. All true. All unhelpful now.

  “Okay, we can sort this,” Felicity says, turning her attention to Emma. My sister is very logical; she’s the obvious choice in a dilemma.

  While they’re occupied sorting out my life, I tap a quick message to Brody.

  Wren: I’m so sorry. Emma and Felicity know.

  Brody: What?!

  Wren: I’m not dealing, and they guessed something was up. It all came out. I won’t let them tell anyone else.

  I stare at my phone. A tiny picture of him pops up on the bottom right corner, showing me he’s seen the message. But he’s not responding. Shit.

  “They’re going to have a divorce hanging over them.” Emma throws her hands up.

  “There’s no other way,” Felicity replies, staring at her phone, presumably Googling how to end a marriage.

  “We should at least try the annulment route again.”

  I curl my arms around my legs and listen to them, feeling like utter shit. They don’t really need me here.

  Midway through Emma’s latest rant, there’s a hard knock on the door.

  My heart stops. That’s why he hasn’t messaged back.

  Emma and Felicity look at each other.

  “I’ll get it,” Felicity says.

  I already know who it is.

  She opens the door and shakes her head. “Not a good time.”

  Brody doesn’t listen. He pushes past her, his eyes finding me. “Are you okay?”

  I want to laugh. What a question to ask me when I’m the one who’s dropped us in it.

  “I’m sorry,” I say.

  “You said you weren’t dealing.”

  “What the fuck have you done?” Felicity snaps.

  Emma’s face is red and murderous, but for now, she stays silent. Her twitching eye tells me she won’t be quiet for long.

  Wincing, Brody looks over his shoulder. “I know, Fliss.”

  Felicity throws her hands up. “You married her! You let her drink with you, and then you fucking married her! What is wrong with you?”

  “Stop,” I say, leaping off the bed. “This is my fault, too!” Risking a glance at Brody, I smile weakly. “You shouldn’t get all of the blame.”

  “I should.”
/>
  “What’s the plan now then?” Felicity asks.

  Brody scratches the back of his neck. “When we get home, I’ll sort everything out. All Wren will have to do is sign a piece of paper.”

  “No way. I’m helping. This isn’t just your mess.”

  His eyes slide my way, and he looks like he’s tired of me. “I promised to fix it.”

  “I cannot believe you got married. Are you definitely sure it’s legal?” Emma asks. “I want to see the marriage certificate.”

  Brody clenches his jaw. He’s irritated that she’s basically suggesting we’re stupid and that we had a six-year-old’s wedding, but he can’t say anything because he’s the one who got drunken married. “I’ll go and get it.”

  When Brody leaves, I turn to them. “Please don’t tell anyone else. Luke and Dad will be extra mad.”

  Emma shakes her head. “Jesus, Wren. That’s a big secret you’re asking us to keep.”

  “I know, but this is my mistake—mine and Brody’s—and we want to deal with it our way. You know what will happen if everyone finds out.”

  “She’s right,” Felicity says. “There’s going to be a lot of emotions and, babe, I love how close our families are. I don’t want anything to cause a rift. Brody and Wren are adults.” She raises her eyebrows. “They will have to sort it out themselves.”

  I look back at Emma, pleading with her.

  She sighs. “Fine. But I want to know what’s going on as you go through this… divorce.”

  I cringe at the word as well as her disapproving tone.

  I want to tell her that divorce isn’t necessarily a bad thing. Who would want to be stuck in a bad marriage? People have parties when their divorce is finalised. But none of that is going to help the situation, so I press my lips together until Brody knocks again.

  Emma tugs the door open and snatches the certificate out of his hand. He’s barely inside the room before she snaps, “Fuck. They’re married.”

  Nineteen

  Brody

  The rest of our trip was strained. I spent the whole time with Mase and Luke while Emma and Felicity shielded Wren from me. They didn’t leave her alone for a second. I’m not a fucking threat.

  I spent my days in casinos—raking in a grand in the end—and my evenings in the clubs.