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I pull my insanely short black dress down my thighs as I try to take in the huge space. ‘I’m mesmerized,’ I say, spotting a card table surrounded by rowdy men and a few women scattered in between.
‘Do you think they’re hookers?’ Jess asks. I ponder her question for a few moments, looking the women up and down before I cast my eyes to my front. They look no different from me, dressed up to the nines at only two-thirty p.m.
‘Here, ladies,’ the barman says, and we turn to find two long, clear highballs on the bar. ‘Some advice for you, girls.’ He slides a small plastic plate across the bar with our bill on it.
I sign the piece of white paper to our room, ignoring the insane cost of two drinks. ‘What’s that?’
‘Happy hour is six to seven.’ He smiles, obviously catching my poorly concealed gawk at the dollar signs. ‘Two for one,’ he adds, leaving us with our drinks.
I swoop mine up and turn on my stool, slurping back the mystery concoction and immediately wincing. ‘Fucking hell.’
Jess starts coughing. ‘Jesus. No measly measures here.’
‘It’s good once you get past the initial shock.’ I shudder and slip down from my stool when I spot some straws on the bar. I need to stir this thing. I hear my phone ring and look back as I pluck two straws from the holder, seeing Jess help herself and answer.
And when her eyes widen, I have a horrible feeling I know who is on the line. And then she nods and confirms my fear, prompting me to start shaking my head frantically.
‘No, it’s Jess,’ she says, cringing. ‘She’s not available right now.’ I start nodding as I hurry back to my stool, drawing a line across my neck with a fingertip. ‘Uh, yeah.’ Jess frowns. ‘How’d you know?’ She’s quiet for a bit, and I slip my straw into my glass, taking a long draw without stirring it. The vodka hits the back of my throat, and I start to cough and splutter all over the bar. ‘Of course.’ She smacks my thigh, her lips pursed – her way of telling me to shut the hell up. ‘Vegas, if you must know,’ she says, rather snootily. ‘And you’re interrupting, so I’ll bid you farewell.’ Clicking off the call, she passes me my phone and I place it coolly on the bar, refusing to entertain my friend’s interested face or my wild wondering.
She plucks the other straw from my hand, slips it into her glass, stirs, and then wraps her lips around it, watching me as she drinks. My eyes narrow on her. ‘Why’d you tell him we’re here?’
My irritation goes way over her head. ‘The international tone kind of gave us away.’
‘Still, you shouldn’t have answered.’
‘How was I supposed to know it would be him?’
‘Who else would it be?’ I ask on a laugh. ‘The only people who call me are you and work. You’re here, and I’m on leave from work.’
Her sudden straight lips make me look away, my attention now on my drink. I know who else she thought it could be. Every time my damn phone rings with an unknown number, my heart kicks with fear. It’s stupid. There’s no way he could track me down. I’m miles away, and now going by a different name.
‘I just thought if there was any slight chance it was him, he’d hear an unfamiliar voice and conclude he has the wrong number. I’m sorry.’
I smile a small smile, returning my attention to Jess’s sorry expression. ‘This trip isn’t getting off to the best start, huh?’
‘Then let’s fix that.’ She pushes my drink to my lips, and I take a slurp as demanded. ‘Theo is delicious in a rough, persistent kind of way, though.’
‘Stop trying to convince me he’s a good idea.’ I’m a second away from telling Jess everything I know, including the fact that Theo carries a gun. Then let’s see if she’s so adamant that I should entertain his advances.
‘I think you’re being too dismissive. You don’t even know him.’
‘I know enough.’
‘Or maybe you don’t know enough,’ she replies, and I shoot her a surprised look. ‘I’m just saying, try to look at the positives rather than the negatives. He might surprise you. You’ll never know unless you open your mind.’
But by opening my mind, I’ll be opening my heart and making myself vulnerable. I’m done with being vulnerable.*I have no idea how much later it is; there are no clocks or windows in this place, but we’re huddled over a tall table cuddling two more of those mystery concoctions, laughing like we’ve never laughed before. We’ve thrived in each other’s company, watched the comings and goings, and placed bets on the status of every woman we’ve seen – hooker, wife, girlfriend, gold digger, or singleton like us.
