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“How could I say no when she started going on about Julian?” I groan. “You know what she’s like. She turns on emotions like a friggin’ tap.”
“You’re right. I do know what she’s like and so do you,” Darcy points out. “All the more reason her bullshit tactics shouldn’t work on you. She’s a spoiled little brat, Kat. All you’re doing by going to Vegas is enabling her. If she were an alcoholic, would you buy her a bottle of vodka?”
“I’m worried she’ll do something stupid if I don’t go.”
“How sure are you that’s not what this is all about, anyway?” Darcy asks. “Have you even checked to see where his wedding is? Maybe you’re helping her do something stupid.”
I frown. She wouldn’t be that sneaky and conniving, would she?
Oh wait. This is Lily we’re talking about.
“I can’t believe she’s still stuck on that dipshit, anyway,” Darcy continues. “Move on already.”
“Oh, come on, have a little sympathy for her,” I say with a laugh. “She’s vulnerable because he’s getting married on Sunday.”
“Which brings me back to my original question, how sure are you that her intention isn’t to crash that wedding in the first place?” Darcy interjects. “Or, knowing Lily, burn the chapel down with his fiancée inside and then kidnap Julian?”
“She wouldn’t be that stupid, would she?”
“It’s Lily,” Darcy replies. “She was born stupid. She needs someone to push her in line, something I’m not sure you’re capable of. What’s Julian’s last name again?” she asks. “Give me two minutes and I’ll tell you if the little rat is lying.”
I chuckle. God, I love Darcy.
We’ve been friends since first grade, from the moment she walked up and punched me in the stomach, because I told her that her hair looked pretty. She still doesn’t take compliments well, but at least these days, she refrains from violence—well, unless I mention Lily.
“Okay,” she says. “It’s at The Cosmopolitan Hotel, on Sunday.”
“Fuck,” I hiss. Coincidence? I think not. “That sneaky little bitch—”
“I told you,” Darcy cuts in, her voice smug. “You can’t trust her for a second.”
“I better go,” I say grimly. “I’ll call you when I get back home.” I pause. “If I get back.”
“Two go in. Only one comes out,” she says in a grave tone. “But seriously? Stop worrying so much about Lily. If you insist on still going, see it for what it is; a free trip to Vegas. Go out and have fun. Let loose. God knows you need it.”
“Since I suck so much at having fun, why don’t you go instead?” I say sweetly. “You and Lily will have a blast—”
“Ha. Not a chance.” She giggles. “Psycho Lily is all yours.”
Ending the call, I toss my phone on the bed and shake my head. I’m so annoyed at Lily.
I can’t believe she played me.After disappearing while I was packing, Alfred walks in and jumps onto my lap, looking up at me with the same sad eyes he did the day I decided to keep him. I inherited Alfred about two weeks after I moved into this place. He’d visit me every day, giving me that look until I’d cave and feed him. After about a week, I finally met a neighbor and asked her if she knew who his owner was. She told me he belonged to the old lady opposite my place, so I walked over there to introduce myself. The door was locked, but I could see her lying on the floor through the window, so I called an ambulance and then forced my way inside.
She’d been dead for two days. I felt guilty for not going over there earlier. I’m sure the rest of her neighbors felt the same. I’d only been there for two weeks. Some of her other neighbors had lived on this street for ten years.
I looked after Alfred while she was being taken care of. I expected a relative to pick the dog up, but an animal handler turned up instead. When he told me that he was going to be euthanized, I asked if I could keep him. It turned out to be the best decision I’d ever made. And not just because of the sudden drop in visits from Lily.
My phone rings. I pick it up, answering it.
“What’s this about me looking after Alfred?” Mom asks, suspicion in her voice. “Are you going somewhere?”
“Vegas. With Lily.”
Mom laughs. “Oh. You’re serious?”
“Yes,” I say with a chuckle. “Is that really so hard to believe? Actually, don’t answer that.”
“You know it is,” Mom murmurs. “Your last vacation was over two years ago.”
I snort. “This isn’t a vacation. A vacation would imply fun.”
“Then why are you going?” She asks seriously.
“Because Vegas is where Julian’s wedding is being held. This weekend. I’m just keeping an eye on her,” I explain.
“Ah,” Mom says. “You’ve always been protective like that.”
