Page 6

6

LACEY

“I wish I could do that,” I say wistfully, gazing at people partying in the pool.

“Why not? You just got fired. You can’t go home. You know you can’t fix your brother. You don’t have control over him.”

“I know.” I give a soft snort and shift to face him. “I can’t even find him.”

“He’s going to show up. He’s going to be looking for money.”

“You’re probably right. But I can go back to working as a budtender.”

“A what? Bartender?”

“Budtender. At one of the cannabis dispensaries. I did that for a while.”

“Seriously? Selling marijuana?”

“Yeah. I also worked as a camp counselor at a doggie daycare, and I’ve done face painting for kids. I actually loved that job.” I pause. “Also, I do freelance makeup for some showgirls here, when I can.”

“Uh ... okay. I mean, I’m sure you’ll have no trouble getting another job, but that’s not the point. You need to cut him loose. You can’t keep enabling him.”

My bottom lip quivers. “I know .”

“So come with me.”

My chin drops nearly to my chest. “Are you serious?” I’d been sure he was making a drunken joke.

“Yeah. You might think this is spontaneous, but?—”

“You can’t tell me you’ve been planning all night to ask me to come with you.”

“Well, no, but I have thought through the pros and cons. Listen, this could be a win-win situation for both of us. You can’t go home. You don’t have a job. Your brother needs to deal with his problems himself. You can stay with me as long as you want. His bookies won’t find you there. He won’t find you there.”

“All true,” I say slowly. “But what’s in it for you ?”

“I told you about my brother and Emma.”

“Your girlfriend.”

“Ex.”

“Right.”

“If I go home with a gorgeous new girlfriend, I won’t feel like such a pathetic loser.”

Gorgeous . My belly heats. “But I’m not your girlfriend.”

“We’ll tell them you are.”

I throw back my head and laugh. “Oh my God! Are we acting out a romance novel? Nobody does that in real life.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s crazy, that’s why.”

“You seem like you don’t mind a bit of adventure.”

I purse my lips and regard him. He’s right. And I’m just drunk enough to think that disappearing for a while with this man is a fantastic idea.

The responsibility I’ve had to learn over the years, looking after my mom, looking after Chris, finding jobs and paying bills and cooking meals, is instilled in me enough that I hesitate. I don’t even know this man. This could be the stupidest thing I’ve ever done, and I’ve done some dumb things.

The allure of it is irresistible, though. A chance to chuck my problems, leave them behind me and escape. Even if it’s just for a while.

“Okay, if you don’t want to be a pretend girlfriend, here’s something even better ... you can be my real wife.”

My mouth falls open again, my eyes bugging out wide. “Wife?”

“We’re in Vegas. A quickie marriage totally makes sense. Right?”

I laugh. “Absolutely.” Now I know he’s not serious.

“How do we do that?” He pulls out his phone and starts swiping at the screen.

“Stop. We don’t have to get married.”

“Sure, we do. I have to make an honest woman of you.”

Laughter bubbles up inside me again. “You’d only have to do that if we’d slept together first.”

“If you insist.” He’s still looking at his phone, but his lips quirk. “Damn. We need to get a marriage license.”

“Oh well.”

“No, we have time. They’re open until midnight. Let’s go.”

I’m laughing and protesting as he grabs my backpack. I nearly trip as I try to slide my feet into my pumps, one hand in his as he tugs me out of the pool party. This is not happening.

Out in front of the hotel, I try to reason with him, even though my blood is racing with excitement. I haven’t done something this wild in a long, long time. There hasn’t been a lot of time for fun in my life for a long, long time.

“Look,” I say. “If you’re not the kind of guy to jump into a pool with your clothes on, you’re not the type of guy for a quickie Vegas marriage.”

“I did jump into the pool with my clothes on.”

“Um ... okay, you got me there. I’m just worried you’re going to regret this.”

“It’s just temporary. You need to get out of town. I need a girlfriend. Er, wife. Right?”

I shove a hand into my hair, rub the back of my head and then down through my hair. Then I grin. “Right.”

He grins back. A taxi pulls up and we jump in. He gives the driver the address on Clark Avenue. “And hurry,” he says. “We have to make it there by midnight.”

“You got it.”

It takes us about ten minutes to get there. As we drive, Théo is on his phone again. “Okay, I found a chapel that’s still open.” He makes the call and books us in.

We arrive at the courthouse. Théo asks the taxi driver to wait for us, which seems extravagant to me since we have no idea how long this will take. Actually, it can’t take that long, because they close in ten minutes. As we run up the steps, I take in the sign above the door: marriage license bureau .

I know it’s crazy. I just don’t care.

It’s not busy at all there; in fact on this Tuesday night, we’re the only ones there, so it doesn’t take long to get the license. Then we’re back in the taxi, on our way to Las Vegas Boulevard.

I’ve been to one of these weddings before; my friend Karine and her husband did this. Only they planned it a little more than we did. She at least had a white dress and flowers and me there as her maid of honor. I have nobody. I’m wearing a dress I just wore in a pool, smelling of chlorine, and I bet my mascara is smudged under my eyes.

I don’t care.

The neon sign above the door of the wedding chapel glows hot pink and blue. I laugh out loud at the flashing bulbs around the sign. Ridiculous.

We cross the terra-cotta tiles past some potted palms and bright flowers, and enter the building. Again, at this hour, we’re the only ones here.

The woman who greets us starts to talk, then says, “Lacey!”

Oh my God. “Janaya! Hi!”

Théo watches, bemused, as we hug.

“How are you?” I ask her. “I haven’t seen you in ages.”

“I’m good! I have three babies. They’re awesome!”

“Oh wow, that’s amazing!”

I turn to Théo. “Théo, this is Janaya. We went to high school together. Janaya, this is Théo.”

“You’re getting married!” She claps her hands together. “Exciting!”

I’m not about to tell her the whole story. “ So exciting!”

“Okay, let’s do this. Come this way.”

Janaya is obviously experienced at her job, running through the different packages. “The traditional wedding is $79.99. It includes the officiant signing the marriage certificate, a witness—which I assume you need since you’re here alone; that would be me.” She flashes a white smile. “And one complimentary photograph. Then there’s the signature wedding, which is $149.99, and includes music, fifteen digital photos, a wedding bouquet and boutonniere, witness if necessary—again, me.” She beams. “We also have?—”

“We’ll take that,” Théo says. “The signature wedding.”

“Of course!”

“We don’t need to spend that much,” I say to Théo in a low aside.

He laughs. “You need a bouquet.”

I roll my eyes.

Janaya bustles away to do her stuff, and when she returns she’s carrying not only a bouquet and boutonniere, but a veil. “It’s not included,” she whispers. “But who cares.”

She helps me fasten the veil to my head in front of a mirror. “I like it.” I turn my head and the tiara glitters in the lights. “I’ve always loved tiaras.” I’ve always loved anything sparkly.

Moments later, it’s all over and we are pronounced man and wife. “You may kiss your bride,” the officiant tells Théo.

Our eyes meet. I suddenly feel shy. Not that I don’t want to kiss him—I do. I have pretty much since I met him, when was that ... four hours ago?

But kissing is for real.

He smiles at me, bends his head, and brushes his mouth over mine.

My belly flutters and flips even at that brief touch, my skin electrifying. We stare into each other’s eyes again, and then Théo wraps one arm around my waist and pulls me up against him, like when we were dancing earlier, except this is different. Then he crushes his mouth to mine.

I melt into him, clutching the bouquet of pink silk roses in one hand, the other going to his neck. My mouth opens to his hungry kiss, and, oh my God, he tastes good, he feels good, and wow, can he ever kiss .

We draw apart, breathing a little fast, blinking a lot. I swallow. “Wow,” I whisper.

“Yeah.” He smiles.

We pose for photos, which I don’t take seriously at all given our rumpled, drunken state, making faces at the camera while Théo dips me in his arms and I clutch my tiara, then me pretending to throw my bouquet.

Amazingly, our taxi is still waiting for us. I have no idea how much the fare will be, but apparently Théo doesn’t care. He directs the driver to take us back to the Wellborne.

Standing out front, the lights in the hotel lobby glowing, we face each other. Our eyes meet in another one of those showers of sparks that keeps happening, sparks I feel way down low in my belly.

What happens now?

I think about that kiss at the chapel, and how I want more. And yet, I’m nervous.

“What do you want to do?” Théo asks in a husky voice. “Celebrate?”

“Absolutely!” I jump on this suggestion. “It’s only one-thirty in the morning. Early by Vegas standards.”

“Are you hungry? I’m hungry.”

“Yeah.”

The Strip is still glittering and flashing, still lots people walking, cars swishing up and down Las Vegas Boulevard.

He takes my hand. “Let’s wander a bit.”

“Wait. I want to change my shoes.” I sit on the stone wall and pull my Chucks out of my backpack.

Théo grins.

We stop at a place that has tables and chairs outside on a patio, and he buys us burgers and fries.

“Thank you,” I say, picking up a French fry. “If only they had chocolate sauce.”

“Say what now?”

I laugh. “I love chocolate sauce on my fries.”

He tilts his head and gives me a narrow-eyed look. “You can’t be serious.”

“Sure. Why not? It’s good. Salty and sweet. You must have some kind of weird food combo you like.”

“Uh ... okay, but you can’t tell anyone else.” He leans closer.

I mime zipping my lips shut.

“I put salt and pepper on apples.”

My eyes pop wide. “No way!”

“Hey. I accepted your weird food fetish.”

“It’s not a fetish,” I object, picking up another fry. “A fetish is a sexual desire. Although I’ll admit chocolate on fries is nearly orgasmic.” I eat my fry, then ask, “Do you have food fetishes?”

“No. Not food.”

“Oh ... what then?” I too lean forward.

“I don’t think we know each other well enough to share our sexual fetishes.”

“We’re married!”

“Hmm. True. Okay, I’ll share mine. I love long hair.”

I smile and fluff my hair. “Oh really?”

He eyes my hair with such a heated look I feel it down between my legs again. “Yeah.”

After we finish eating, we stroll along the Strip. As we walk, we approach a couple of women dressed in what I guess are supposed to be cop uniforms, although the short shorts and tight jackets over silver-sequin bras are probably not regulation.

“Hey, guys! You wanna get spanked?” One woman holds up a crop, the other a pair of cuffs.

“Speaking of fetishes,” Théo mutters.

We keep going, laughing.

“Is it the uniform that turns you on?” I tease. “Or the spanking?”

“I’m not into being spanked.”

“Ah.” This is interesting.

We next encounter a man in a Batman costume who jumps out at us with his wings spread, then a couple of women dressed like showgirls with big feathered wings and headpieces, except they’re both clearly drunk. One has a drooping wing and a broken heel on her shoe, making her limp, the other holding on to her, her headpiece sagging over her eyes.

We go into a couple of casinos, and Théo spends twenty dollars on a few slot machines. I refuse to touch the things because I’m terrified that I’ll be like Chris, and the slot machines will be like crack and once I push those buttons I’ll be addicted and descend into gambling hell.

When we leave there, we pass a place that sells tequila slushies. “As if we need more booze,” he mutters, but then he buys us each one to go, and we carry them as we stroll down the street. I suck some back and, whoa—not only are these huge, they’re strong.

Eventually we stop and sit on the edge of the fountain outside the Cipriani, drinking our slushies. I toe off my shoes and swivel to put my feet into the cool water. “Aaaaah.”

“Is that allowed?” Théo asks.

“I have no idea. I don’t care. It’s not like there are a lot of people around.”

He takes off his shoes, rolls his pants up, and dunks his feet.

“You don’t wear socks.”

“Nope. Never. Socks are the devil.”

I laughed. “Even with a suit?”

“Even with a suit.”

I stir my slushie with the straw. “Okay, tell me more about where we’re going.”

“Marina del Rey. A guy who used to play for the Condors owns the condo. Apparently there are three units, and his was sitting empty, so I’m renting it from him.”

“The Condors are ...?”

“The team I’ll be working for. The California Condors.”

“Ah.”

“My mom’s helping get things set up for me.”

“Your parents live there too?”

“Oh. Yeah. Well, not Santa Monica. My dad actually owns a different team.”

“What? Are you serious?” I gape at him. “Your family owns two hockey teams?”

He smiles. “It does sound kind of crazy, doesn’t it? My grandpa owns the Condors, and my dad owns the Golden Eagles in Long Beach. Well, my dad and some other investors. That’s a pretty recent thing.” He sighs. “I think my dad just bought the team to piss off my grandpa.”

“That’s quite a gesture.” I can’t even imagine how much a hockey team costs, but I’m sure it’s more than I’ll ever see in my lifetime. “He must have been really pissed.”

“It’s a long story. Long and ugly.”

“Ugh. Families.” I hold out my slushie cup.

He taps his against it. “Right?”

“So you’re going to work for your grandpa ... and your dad’s team will be one of your opponents.”

“Yep.”

“What does your dad think of that?”

“Now he’s pissed at me too. Fraternizing with the enemy.”

I study the way his jaw has tensed. “That must have been a tough decision.”

He rubs the back of his neck. “Yeah. It was.”

“Your dad will get over it.”

He shakes his head. “You don’t know how my dad holds a grudge.”

“But you’re his son.” I bump his shoulder with mine.

“Eh. Who knows. Meanwhile, I have a job to do.”

“How old are you?”

“Twenty-eight.”

“Isn’t that young to be running a team? How old is Jeff?”

Théo’s lips curve. “Jeff’s forty-five. There’s only been one other GM in the league who was under thirty.”

“That’s impressive. Or did your grandpa just hire you to piss off your dad?”

His entire body tenses, and I slap my hand to my mouth. “I’m kidding! Of course he didn’t do that.”

“Not so sure,” he mutters, dropping his head. “Although he did talk a good game when he came to recruit me. I either have the most amazing opportunity ever or I’ve been completely suckered.”

“You don’t strike me as a sucker.”

“Kinda felt that way when my girlfriend was cheating on me with my brother behind my back.”

Right. He’d mentioned that earlier. “That doesn’t make you a sucker,” I say firmly. “That makes them jerks.”

His smile warms me and he leans into me. “Thanks.”

I eye Théo. He rescued me from those thugs earlier. Twice, sort of. He seems like a good guy, maybe a little nerdy, but that’s not a bad thing. His body is anything but nerdy, though, and I’m finding him more and more attractive.

And he feels like a pathetic loser because of what his skanky ex-girlfriend did. I run my tongue over my teeth. I can’t wait to meet that bish and make her realize what she lost out on.

“Oh my God!” I throw my hand out toward the lightening sky. “The sun is coming up!”

“Happens every morning,” he agrees.

“We’ve been up all night!”

“Yep.”

“When are you leaving?”

“I plan to leave at noon. It’s about a four-and-a-half-hour drive.”

“Oh my God. You must want to get some sleep before we go.”

“That would probably be a good idea.”

I shake my head. “This is so nuts.”

“Yep.” He swivels, stands, and holds out a hand. “Come on.”

We walk back to the Wellborne, not the only ones staggering down the Strip at dawn. In the lobby, I pause at seeing some of the shops which stay open twenty-four/seven. “I’m going to need a few things.”

“I can take you to your place to pack some stuff before we leave tomorrow.”

“Today.”

“Oh yeah. Right.”

“Okay. I’ll just grab a couple of things for now.”

I pick up a toothbrush, toothpaste, and antiperspirant. A pair of panties and a sundress to wear later. I have other basics in my backpack—a makeup kit, hairbrush—which will get me through til I can get home. I also grab a phone charger. I pay for these items with the tip I was given earlier, for which I am now grateful.

We go up to Théo’s room. Walking in, quiet coolness envelops us. A suitcase sits open on the luggage rack, the contents packed with precise neatness. Unlike how I pack. Not that I’ve traveled a lot.

I yawn.

“Tired?”

“I think I’m crashing. Can you be hungover before you even go to sleep?”

He chuckles. “Possibly. Want a shower before we go to bed?”

The air in the room instantly goes hot. Electricity sizzles over my nerve endings as we eye each other. I know what we’re both thinking.