5. Alice
5
ALICE
“Because we’re going to the chapel and we’re…gonna get MARRIED.”
My head hurts way too much to withstand singing right now.
I wink open an eye. Daylight streams into the room, lasering into my eye like I’m at the fucking optician. Jesus Christ.
“Who did you marry, Alice?”
I groan. “Shhhh” is the only thing I can manage to say before my head’s hitting the pillow again and I’m drifting back to sleep. Maybe I’m dreaming. Married? Levi and I got married already? The bachelorette was yesterday. We have another?—
I rush to the bathroom, instinct taking over, and hurl up my guts into the toilet. There are no lumps—no signs I consumed any food last night. Liquid is all I vomit, but it’s a brown-yellowish shade that disgustingly smells sweet.
The smell prompts another retch, and another round of sick exits my mouth.
Two hands curl around me, bringing my hair into a ponytail.
“Well, this makes a change.”
Tammy.
I watch the bile settle in the toilet bowl. “What are you doing here?”
“I might ask you the same question.”
“Huh?” I snap around.
“The ring.”
“What ring?”
“The four-fucking-carat diamond on your finger.”
“Four. No. Levi’s was only two…”
A bit of last night comes back to me. Typical. The one fucking piece of the night I wanted to forget and never relive again—the random number sending through an image of Levi with his tongue down some busty woman’s throat. “It’s over,” he said. Two words I never thought I’d ever hear that man say.
Bile shooting up my throat, I direct my mouth back to the toilet and vomit again. This round is projectile. Not stopping anytime soon. Liquid spills out. It’s rancid. Hydrochloric stomach acid mixed with liquor forms a smell that has me retching again.
But this time there’s nothing left in the tank.
I hate vomiting.
I also hate Levi.
And myself, for drinking way past my limit.
Tammy rubs my back, but not for long. She guides me to the sink, cranks on the faucet and forces my head under the stream.
“What are you fucking doing? That’s freezing!”
“You have sick around your mouth still.” She keeps pressing my head down. “Jesus, Ali. You’re supposed to be the nurse between the two of us. You’re supposed to be taking care of me .” She turns off the faucet and towel-dries my face. “Thankfully, last night I was very well-behaved. You on the other hand, were not.” She tosses the towel aside and grabs my hand.
Shoves it in my face.
She’s right. It’s at least a four-carat diamond. It winks in the light. Blinds me. The headache I woke up with digs deeper into my skull just from looking at the thing. It’s big, and in the shape of a diamond. Dazzling to the left of the main jewel are three smaller stones. They don’t shine quite as bright as the main one, but catch the light as I turn my very shaky hand to inspect more closely.
“Who did you marry?”
I turn back to Tammy. She places her hands on her hips and raises one of her intrigued-looking eyebrows. The searching look in her eye suggests that she’s really trying to get to the bottom of this for me. “Which one?”
“Which one?” I repeat. “What are you talking…?”
The three silver-fox men.
I lean against the sink as memories from last night return in fragments back into my mind. They were so fucking gorgeous. Indigo eyes—Lifesaver, he said he was called—with the impressive, full head of ashy hair. Then there was Match, the tall one with the middle part. And Brander—I believe we ended up at his house after a nighttime ride through the desert…
His fingers were deep inside me while the other two each took a breast.
“Why are you smiling?”
“Tam, oh my god, you’re not gonna believe me when I tell you?—”
“That you fucked and married them?”
“No,” I laugh. “None of those things happened. We went back to Brander’s house?—”
“Who’s Brander?—?”
“And their hands were all over me like I was a fucking musical instrument. Oh my GOD .” I trail my eyes up to the ceiling as the vision of them masturbating returns to my head. They were all so fucking big. I remember rubbing my clit up against Brander’s stubbled cheeks. His nose too. Two of them stuck their fingers inside of me at one point. An illustration of a crushed can of Pepsi was the thing my eyes kept catching, I remember. Oh my god. Their moans still sing in my ears.
“ALICE!”
Tammy’s voice sounds like a thousand fine china plates smashing.
I wince. “ What ?”
“Which one did you marry?”
“I didn’t!”
“The ring,” she says, tugging at my finger, “suggests something different.”
“We didn’t. I think I would remember standing at an altar saying, ‘I do’ to a transvestite vicar with bombshell hair and bigger boobs than me, you, and Levi’s new girlfriend combined.”
That last one stings.
But I need it for my argument.
“I didn’t have sex with them. No. I just went back to Brander’s, had some whisky and a bit of TLC, and then we went back out again.”
“To where?”
“Ummm.” I search the ceiling, trying to place where we ended up. Apart from the glass of rum and asking if Brander was a wizard (fuck, I’m never drinking again), nothing pops up.
Tammy reaches for a clean towel and unfolds it to display the embroidered logo.
The Venetian Resort: Hotel and Casinos.
“The Venetian could’ve been it.”
Tammy bats her eyelashes.
That’s when I catch up.
Why the fuck am I here when our hotel was in Flamingo?
“How did you find me?”
“You messaged.”
“I did?”
She exits the bathroom and returns a moment later scrolling through her phone—because she gets more notifications in a minute than I do in a day—and shows me the screen.
I wince.
She could’ve at least been more considerate and turned it to night mode.
The messages slowly appear before my eyes.
Quite a few, actually.
3:22 AM
Alice: three diks
Alice: thee silver foxeys
Alice: Tams?
Alice: Tammy
Alice: Tam
Alice: Tam
Alice: ???
Alice: R U getting thsi
Fucking hell. I scroll down. Ignorance is bliss.
But I keep scrolling.
“I was asleep when you sent the messages.”
“Shit. Did I wake you?”
“Nope,” Tammy says. “My phone was on do not disturb. I wish the messages had woken me up, though. You’re even more reckless than me when it comes to drinking. Although I must admit, it’s pretty funny.” She snorts. “You’re definitely in the lead.”
I continue scrolling past blurred texts until something catches my eye.
Holy shit.
5:15 AM
Alice: I JUST GOT MARRIEDDDHFF
Alice: What the fuck
Me: Alice??? What the fuck.
Phone call dropped from Alice.
Me: Alice? Fucking ring me. Where are you?
Alice: VENETIANN
Alice: DON;T COMR
Alice: IT’S MY BWEDDING NIGHT !!!!!!! U KNOW WHAT THT MEANS
I feel faint.
Take in the biggest gasp of air.
I retch but nothing comes out.
Maybe I’ll collapse, and wriggle myself out of it that way. End up in the very same hospital I work at, on life support in the ICU being cared for by one of my colleagues who’s curious to know why my lungs have given up. They won’t even need me to tell them. They’ll see the four-carat ring on my finger and know I’ve married somebody either stinking rich or shady.
But it’s not just somebody shady.
It’s three people.
Three outlaw criminals who ride motorcycles daily.
Three very charming outlaws who are blessed to have dicks of a size that God very sparingly blesses the male species with.
Tammy grabs my arm and smooths her thumb over my wrist. “It’s okay.”
“I don’t remember marrying them.”
“Of course not.”
“Where are they?” I dash out of the bathroom and search for them myself. They’re not in bed, but that’s not to say they’re not taking cover under furniture somewhere waiting for me to beat them up.
It’s Tammy they should be concerned about.
It’s a beautiful, spacious place. A king-size bed is central to the room and looks good even with the covers creased all over the bed. A plush, purple couch is by the window, nobody playing hide and seek when I check underneath. The same goes for the coffee table in the corner, and the huge wardrobe when I fling open all six doors.
“They must have checked you in here for the night and gone back to wherever they came from.” Tammy plonks herself on the bed. “Have a look on your phone. Did you get their numbers? Maybe they sent you a message.”
I peel open my eyes to locate my phone.
Tammy grabs it off the coffee table for me and checks herself.
“ Wizard ,” she reads out.
I feel myself blush.
“He messaged you at six thirty this morning to say, ‘Goodnight, darling wife. Enjoy all the Venetian has to offer, but not too much. You’re our property now.’” Tammy tosses my phone onto the bed. “They sound…very protective.”
“Give me that.”
I push past the stinging headache to read the message myself. Word for word.
Turns out Tammy isn’t a little shit making this all up.
I swipe a piece of greasy hair away from my face. A cold sweat breaks out all over my skin and I feel it dripping down my body. It hasn’t occurred to me until now that I’m still in the same pearl-white dress from last night, except now it’s more of a brown-Fireball orange, all thanks to the bits of vomit that didn’t reach the toilet. The skirt draped around my knees is also black in parts—riding a motorcycle probably has something to do with that.
“What am I gonna do?” I join Tammy on the bed.
Thank God she’s here. If there was a certificate for wriggling your way out of shitty situations, she’d have a PH-fucking-D.
“Relax.” She drops her shoulders. “Don’t worry about a thing.” A smile breaks out onto her face and it quickly turns into a laugh.
She’s happy for me? I see it in her eyes, the sparkling way they look at me like she’s a proud sister. They never glowed like this when I announced my engagement with Levi.
“I think you’re forgetting the most important thing here.” She pats my knee. “You rebounded, you had fun, and you enjoyed it. We can take care of the mess, and you can get an annulment. After that, it’ll be as though none of this ever happened.” That smile creeps back onto her face. “Welcome to the single life, Ali. You’re back in the game.”
I bundle up my skirt and step out of the Uber, and he drives away without looking back. God bless Las Vegas, the one city on earth that’s home to people who don’t do a double take at anybody. Let’s be real. The driver has probably had worse than me in the back of his car.
That would explain the plastic covering over the seats.
I unlock my father’s house, slipping in through the door and closing it carefully behind me. It’s been a minute since I’ve been back here. Good thing I never returned my key. Except for the droning refrigerator that he still hasn’t replaced, the place is silent, so I relax my shoulders and drag myself upstairs to shower.
It’s a task getting the dress off by myself—I don’t have Lifesaver saving the day now.
Eventually, the dress falls to the floor, and I’m relieved to step out of it and toss it away. It’s in no good shape to sell, even after a thorough dry clean, but the diamond wedding ring on my finger tells a different story. One that could involve me never having to work another nursing shift at the hospital again.
I could trade it in for cash.
Slip the recruiter a couple hundred thousand at my nurse practitioner interview and achieve my dream that way…
No…
Daddy always says to play fair.
Playing unfair will lower me onto the same wavelength as the Bratva groups around here. Booze aside, nothing sickens me more than Russian degenerates who kill just to achieve their desires faster.
Plus, returning the ring to the bikers is the least I can do, to thank them for showing me a good time.
A really fucking good time.
Imagine the sex…
No, Alice, I say to myself, unclasping my bra and panties and getting ready to enter the shower. This year is about making money and showing up for yourself.
Before hopping under the water, I twirl naked for myself in the mirror. As heartbreaking as the Levi situation is, I still have myself. My boobs may not be as big as Levi’s hookup, but the three men I spent the evening (and morning) with seemed impressed with their appearance.
Speaking of the three wise men, I should call them to arrange an annulment before Daddy finds out. It’s one thing to tell him that Levi and I are broken up. Another that I married three men his age in Vegas while blackout drunk.
I pause, peering at the mirror.
There’s a black mark on my ass cheek.
A very big black…
I wet my hands in the sink and begin to rub, but the mark doesn’t ease.
Maybe if I step in the shower. Lather it up with shower gel.
I twirl some more, staring at myself in the mirror. It extends across the rest of my ass cheek.
And it’s not a mark.
It’s a fucking tattoo.
No.
My heart stops. Air dies in my lungs and a faint spell overcomes me. I grab the corner of the sink for balance, but the lightheaded spell worsens.
Property of Lifesaver, Match, and Brander.
A tear slips out of my eye, and I’m unsure whether I’m upset or horrified.
They tattooed me?
Their names are in black. Bold and capitalized.
I can say goodbye to wearing thongs.
Goodbye to my fucking savings, because it’ll all be going toward getting this hideous thing removed.
I calm my hyperventilating. Think. What would Tammy do? That girl wouldn’t pay for something herself even if she had multiple passive income streams and a billion dollars in her bank account.
This is their issue.
They can fix it.
I abandon the shower, wrap a towel around me and locate my phone. Why a tattoo? They could’ve given me many pleasant things. A bouquet of flowers, another orgasm, but a tattoo gun in my ass is what they chose. I bet they got a good kick out of that.
Rachel was right.
I should’ve thought twice before taking off with them last night.
Face ID won’t even work on my phone because my face is in such a state of horror. My fingers fumble over the keys as I type in my password.
Wizard.
I’m about to hit call when a notification pops up on my screen. A live broadcast from the city of Las Vegas. I click onto it, and Daddy appears behind a live feed of the city. He clutches the mic in his hand more than simply holding it. That means something important is about to come out of his mouth.
“Did you know Las Vegas is one of the most dangerous US cities to live in and visit? Each month, the police receive more than three hundred missing person reports. Three hundred. They either turn up dead, or severely injured, and for years I’ve been trying to figure out a way to lower these stats. To have a month, even, where police receive zero missing person reports, would be a miracle, and it’s one I’d like to achieve.” He pauses for a moment for the audience to catch up—a technique he uses even with me after he’s said something important.
Get to the point, goddammit.
“I have been working on my campaign with authorities for some months now, and it hasn’t been easy, but we have finally made some progress. Ladies and gentlemen, I want to announce today that my team and I aim to eliminate all Bratva groups in and around Las Vegas.”
I raise my eyebrows. Thank fuck some good has come out of today.
Finally, justice will be restored. It’s been twelve years since a random attack left Mom dead and bleeding out on the streets of Las Vegas. The bullet was identified as Russian and belonging to one of the Bratva groups here in the city, and revenge has coursed through my father’s veins ever since that day.
Maybe he’s been working with authorities over the past few months to make this campaign possible, but behind closed doors, I know he’s been mapping out the operation ever since Mom’s funeral.
The tightness in my chest eases for a moment, and the drunk marriage doesn’t feel as severe.
Daddy is the best mayor Las Vegas has ever seen.