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Who has to make reservations for a bachelorette party?
Gatsby’s Cocktail Lounge was the only request Kate had for her bachelorette party. She’d heard from one of her clients that it was a “must” for any Vegas trip. So I made a reservation for us. Being honest, I am excited. But also, I am not excited about possibly missing out on their famous cocktails.
“We have a couple of minutes,” I blurt. When everyone turns and looks at me, my face starts burning red. “I, uh—I just need to go grab something from the room real quick.”
Kate’s attention wis glued to her phone. “Hurry up, I already set up the Uber.”
I don’t waste another second, practically running to the elevator and smashing the button relentlessly. By the time I make it to the room, I am out of breath. I fly into the bathroom, frantically digging in the trash to find the test. Grabbing it, I have a sinking feeling in my stomach. With the test in my left hand, I search for the empty box, flipping it over to read the instructions again.
Disregard any results after ten minutes.
“Fuck,” I cry, dropping them into the trash can. I am going to have to get another test.
Even that is going to have to wait until later. My phone starts vibrating and with one look, I see Kate’s name pop up.
“Hey—” I start but Kate interrupts me.
“Where are you? The Uber is here, and he can’t wait forever.” Kate is stressed.
“I’m coming right now.” The moment I answer the phone, I’ve already started making my way down.
“Good,” Kate says just before ending the call.
Thankfully, I make it to the elevators just as it is making its way back down. I squeeze in between the just married couple and the two men in suits who don’t even bothering hiding that they are both staring at my boobs. I let out a disgusted sigh and roll my eyes before turning away.
“Men,” I mutter.
The moment the elevator makes it to the lobby, I am out, rushing to find Kate and Grace.
* * *
All of our jaws drop when we enter the lounge. The ceiling is covered in purple balloon lights and there are people all around. Grace finds the host, letting her know who we are. We follow her through a maze of curved couches and around the full circle of the bar, to the back of the lounge. The music is loud, already encouraging us to start dancing. But first, drinks. Kate has also told us about the secret menu, which apparently is not-so-secret. Just a scan of the QR code and voila.
“We have to get the Champagne Bubble Bath!” Grace exclaims.
“The what?” Kate and I ask in unison.
“It’s a drink from their secret menu. It literally comes in a bubble bath and has rubber ducks in it!” Grace is as giddy as a girl ordering her first drink with a fake ID.
“A bubble bath?” I can’t help the way my face scrunches.
“It’s not like a literal bath. It’s a—oh, look!” Grace points between Kate and I. When we turn, we saw exactly what she is talking about.
And sure as shit, it is a little white porcelain bathtub sitting on a silver tray. There are rose petals all over and I can see the little yellow head of a rubber duck poking out of the bubbles.
When a server comes to take our drink order, Kate blurts out the drink right away.
“Would you each like to have one?”
Kate and Grace both nod their heads, leaving me the odd one out.
“Um, I’m not ready to order yet.”
“What? I thought you wanted the bath too.”
“Um, I’m just not sure. I’m not a big champagne person.” I shrug.
Kate and Grace let it go, already being absorbed into the environment. I take it as my opportunity to make my way to the bar. It is crowded and I have to wedge between two different barstools, hoping to catch the attention of anyone.
