Page 54 of The Wilder Widows

“Well, at least you have Roxy now.” Sylvie smiled. “Are you going to see her again soon?”

“As soon as we’re done with our Wilder Widow’s wishes, I’m hopping on a plane straight back to Vegas to see her.”

“Good for you, Marge. You deserve to be happy.” Doris smiled.

Our waiter returned, holding a bottle of champagne and four flutes threaded through his free hand. After setting them on the table, he popped the cork and filled them up. One by one, we took a glass, holding them in the air.

“Here’s to the Wilder Widows,” Alice said. “To our wild adventure, finding new love, and finding ourselves. And here’s to Percy, Manz, and Stilts.”

Tears brimmed my eyes while I nodded at her and clinked my glass against hers.

Even though they weren’t here physically with me, I would make sure I finished out the promise I’d made to them all those years ago. “To Percy, Manz, and Stilts,” I said.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

“Where did you go?” Doris asked when I stepped back into our tiny hotel room.

“Don’t you worry about where I went. Just worry about where we’re going.” Looking at the digital alarm clock on the nightstand between the beds, I gave it a nod. “T minus two hours until go time. And I want to make sure we have time to see the bulls in the pen.”

“It’s so early,” Alice grumbled while she dragged herself out of the bathroom.

Rolling my eyes, I stepped up against the wall to allow her to pass through. “You could have slept longer if you hadn’t insisted on full Oscar-worthy makeup and hair for five minutes of running down the streets with bulls on your ass.”

Spinning around, she cocked a hip, perching a hand upon it. “I could die today, Marge.” She leaned into my face. “Die. And if I am going to die, I’m going to look damn good doing it. I want the coroner weeping over the loss of such a beautiful face, not cringing at the site of my rigid corpse. And if I die, there is no doubt someone along the streets will capture it on video. When it’s playing on repeat back in the States after news releasing that a beautiful American dancer was gored to death, I want to look good while I’m being impaled on the big screen.”

Pressing up the bottom of her short, sleek hair, she spun and walked over to her bag, pulling out a pair of red pumps.

“Alice, you can’t run in heels.” Sylvie shook her head and gestured to the tennis shoes she wore.

“I’m not dying in sneakers.”

“Well, you would have a better chance of surviving if you wore sensible shoes, Alice.” Doris pointed to the same hot pink sneakers she wore every time we walked back on Wilder Lane.

“I’ll take finishing the race impaled on the horn of a bull before I put those things on my feet.”

“Suit yourself,” I said, leaning down to fasten my own Velcro closures. With one last tug, I made sure my trusty shoes were ready for what awaited us today.

“If I die today,” Alice said. “Make sure they use the photo of me in my showgirls’ outfit as the photo in the news story. That and the one where I’m in the sapphire dress at the fundraiser from last year. They’re framed on my mantle.”

“I’m going to find the worst picture of you I can find.” I grinned. “One with a double chin and one crossed eye.”

Gasping, Alice pressed a palm to her chest. “I’ve never had a double chin in my life!”

“Then I’ll have one of our kids Photoshop it in.”

“You wouldn’t!”

“I would. So, use that as an incentive not to die. I don’t want you getting any ideas of going out in a blaze of fame and glory.”

Glaring, she pressed her heel down into the red shoe with extra force.

I looked around at our little group, all of us wearing our secondary white outfits and our red scarves tied around our necks. Turning to the door, I touched my scarf and felt the outline of the dog tags underneath my fingertips. Percy, Manz, and Stilts were with me, and I could only hope they would help keep us all safe.

“Alright, Widows. It’s showtime.” I turned back and gave them the same look my Staff Sgt. would give us just before a chopper loaded with wounded would arrive.

Fear filled their eyes, but one by one they lifted their chins, straightened their shoulders, and fell into line behind me.

We got outside, and even at six in the morning, the streets buzzed with energy from the people excited to run with the bulls or watch from the stands. Everyone up early to get the best spot. Many still partying from the night before, even a man asleep on the streets I had to step over. I walked the girls down the road and turned the corner away from the direction all the other bull-runners were walking.