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Ten seconds later, the hotel suite reeks of a perfume cocktail and sounds like a coed slumber party.
“Thought we’d do a little pre-partying before we head out,” Grant says to no one in particular. He grabs two girls by the wrist and leads them to the sofa, sandwiching himself between them and slipping his arms around their shoulders.
I don’t know where he found these ladies.
The blonde to his right nuzzles up to him, nibbling at his ear and running her hand along the outside of his pants. The redhead on his other side bites her lip, anxiously awaiting her turn.
“Hi.” Another blonde with hair down to her tits plops down beside me, though I’d hardly call it plopping since I imagine she weighs less than ninety pounds soaking wet. Her sapphire gaze is slightly unfocused, her eyes deep and hollowed. And she gives me a sultry grin as if she’s about to make a meal out of me. “I’m Jazz. What’s your name?”
I don’t want to do this.
I don’t want to be here.
“His name is Cainan, and he’s not normally this fucking rude,” Grant comes up for air.
“That’s a cool name.” She crosses her toothpick legs and lets her mini skirt ride up, advertising the fact that she isn’t wearing panties. “Where are you from, Cainan?”
Apparently another fucking planet.
Up tempo music begins to blast over the Bluetooth speakers in the ceiling, loud without being obnoxious.
If only they’d drown out my thoughts.
Grant whispers something to his playthings, rises, and leads them to the bedroom, closing the door behind them.
“Can I read your palm?” Jazz reaches for my hand, but I jerk it away.
“No.”
She pouts. “I’m a palm reader.”
“I’m sure you are.” I take a drink, avoiding her desperate gaze. “But no.”
“Dude. What’s your problem? Let her read your freaking palm. We’re in Vegas. We can do weird shit here and no one gives a crap.” Collin takes the sofa cushion on the other side of the blonde and extends his hand. “Here. Read me.”
Her eyes light and she shifts her posture toward him before flattening his right palm and concentrating. “Okay, first, I need you to relax.”
“Done,” he says without hesitation.
“See this line here? It’s your lifeline. It’s long and unbroken. That tells me you’re a dependable person. And this. This is your head line. It’s on the shorter side. Are you an athlete? Do you run marathons?” she asks.
“Uh, I do actually …” Collin glances at Jazz then back at his palm.
I roll my eyes. The dude clearly has a solid runner’s build.
“You have a child,” she says, not asking.
He nods.
“You’re going to have two more,” Jazz perks up. “Twin boys.”
I finish my beer and grab another while she spews her bullshit generalities. When I return, Collin’s expression is electric and he’s running his fingers through his hair as if she told him he’s going to win the lottery when he turns forty.
And hell, she probably did say that.
“Your turn!” Jazz rotates back to me, reaching for my hand. “I’m a fourth-generation palm reader. I have a client list a mile long. Celebrities. Foreign dignitaries. People fly from all over the world for twenty minutes of my time.”
“And you’re giving your services away for free why?” I uncap my beer.
She steals my right hand and flattens the palm over the top of her bony knee. “Because it’s a Friday night. And I want to. Now, I need you to relax.”
I exhale a hard breath.
“I’m serious. Relax and open your mind.” She closes her eyes, sits straight, and inhales. “Okay, here we go.”
Collin leans in, literally on the edge of his seat.
Jazz clears her throat, running a long fingernail down the center of my hand. “Okay, this is interesting … your fate line … this one right here … it tells me how strongly your life will be controlled by your destiny. Now, your line is pretty deep. Deeper than most. Some people don’t have one at all. But yours has this branch that connects to your lifeline. You have a predetermined destiny … but there’s a crossroads here. You’re fighting it. You’re denying it. You have to decide what you want and go for it. The universe will support you either way. But as it stands now, your life can go in one of two extremely different directions.”
I jerk my hand away, done.
Tell me something I don’t fucking know …
43
Brie
“Why does that girl keep staring at us?” Megan nods toward the back of the crowded bar Friday night. Four hours ago she hopped off her plane and cabbed it to my place, fully dressed and ready to paint the town.
After the week I’ve had, I’m not particularly in the mood to “party” but it’s good to spend time with a familiar face—one I can trust.
Besides, she came all this way.
“Who’s staring?” I scan the room.
