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Summer giggled even though that certainly wasn’t funny.
“How do people manage to get to their weddings in that
condition?”
Egan started the car from the driver’s seat. Of all the guards,
he fell into the stern, silent type category. He’d take them both
home, dropping Summer off first, then Cassia, since she lived
the furthest away from the Strip, probably all without uttering
a single syllable.
“I got it out of one guy that the wedding isn’t for a few
weeks. He’ll have time to recover.” Cassia rubbed the bottom
of her sticky heel on the plastic car mat. She shuddered when
she felt the catch and grab of whatever goo was imprinted on
the sole. She couldn’t wait to get home and shower off the feel
of all those drunk men pawing at her all night.
“Yeah, in a hospital bed, barely conscious. Good God, how
can someone drink so much without puking?”
“Maybe he did, and we just didn’t see it. I didn’t keep tabs
on him all night.”
Summer finally slid her seatbelt on, like an afterthought.
Cassia always put hers on immediately. The lights of the Strip
flashed by the windows, and even though it was nearly four in
the morning, there were still people out, the crowds much
thinner, most of them walking stilted or tottering on towering
heels.
“Look at them.” Summer didn’t need to point. She knew
Cassia had seen. “Sometimes, I hate this city.”
“You were born here, though.”
Summer rolled her eyes and flipped back her long, blonde
hair. Her roots were always dark, her eyebrows too, so it
wasn’t her natural color, but it suited her. It was thick and she
