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I blink at Boen’s question. Fiona told me a bit about Bexley’s twin, and the consensus of the group is that he’s a verified genius.
He sounds like it. Maybe that’s why I haven’t gotten to know him; I’m not a dumb jock, but there’s no way I can compete with him.
If Fiona has spent her whole life with smart people, why does she want me? “I’m going to focus on the right woman,” I say in a quiet voice.
“What, thehotkind? Winston shakes his fingers like he’s been burnt. “I’m up for that. I say we head out to find ourselves some.”
But Grayson is already shaking his head. “No strippers. That’s the last thing I want televised.” He gestures to the cameraman sitting at a nearby table, along with one of the producers of the show.
“Your fiancée won’t like it?” Tad asks.
“I don’t know.” Grayson frowns. “We’ve never really talked about it. I didn’t think there was a need. I think she’d be okay—”
“Rachel would be furious,” Boen cuts in.
“I can’t see Biba being okay with that either,” David says.
“For an entirely different reason, though,” Boen continues. “Rachel would be furious that she didn’t get to go.”
Silence settles at the table at Boen’s words. “I think I need to meet her,” Winston decides.
“They’ve probably finished up the first part of their evening,” I tell the table, as lightbulbs go off inside of my head at the idea. “But we can always meet up with them if you like.”
Chapter Seventeen
Fiona
I’mstillonahigh when we leave the show.
“That was amazing!” Rachel cries, jumping at my side.
“I can’t believe you did that,” Bexley says. She stares at me like I’m a different person who left Toronto with her yesterday.
“Neither can I,” I admit.
It is still me, but it’s a different me from yesterday. From last week. Before stepping out of the plane here in Las Vegas, I never would have ever allowed myself to consider getting on stage like that.
I would have pushed the opportunity onto someone else. I would have believed I didn’t need to do it, that I wouldn’t, shouldn’t, couldn’t do something like that.
But I listened when Mase said I was a badass; he thought I was a little wild, and I liked hearing that he had that impression of me.
“I wouldn’t have let you sit that one out.” Demi’s smile leaves me with a warm sensation. Can she see that Icanbe that person?
“It was so much fun,” I tell them. “Where are we going next?”
Shae gives us directions and we set off down the Strip. I don’t eventhinkabout calling it a night and heading back to the hotel, even though it’s nearing eleven. Back at home, I’d be—
But I’m not at home. I’m here, in Las Vegas, and I’m going to make the most of every minute.
There’s a lot of energy in the group, so our walk quickly becomes more of a run, a skip, with Rachel breaking into a hop as she leads the way. We talk about the men on stage, the men in our lives—I don’t participate in that—and comment freely on the men we pass.
We catch up to one of the groups from the show with a bride-to-be dressed in a wine-spattered veil, and Shae takes a quick video of them.
Our cameraperson catches all of this, but for once I’m not worried about how I appear.
I even post pictures on Instagram, the sights and sounds of the Strip inspiring me.
When we reach the nightclub, we crowd around the bouncer at the door. “Ladies,” he growls. “Wait your turn. Back of the line.”
