Chapter 12
TWELVE
KENNEDY
When we land, a giant party bus is waiting for our big crew, and we’re driven to our hotel. As we pull into the fountain-lined driveway, Sulley, Palmer, and I look at the stunning structure. It’s so glamorous.
We walk into what must be the biggest hotel lobby I’ve ever been in. It’s opulence on the most extreme levels, complete with more fountains, marble, dancers, and grand, elegant chandeliers.
There’s a man in a suit waiting for us, so we don’t have to wait in the regular check-in line. Layla has planned this to a tee. We all get our room keycards, and she’s got a spreadsheet of who is in which suite.
We head up the elevators and get our first look at our lavish suite. It’s incredible. I’ve never had a room like this. It’s like being in a movie.
Our suite has two large bedrooms with an enormous living room, kitchen, and bar between them. The kitchen is stocked with food, and the bar is overflowing with alcohol. Staying anything close to sober this weekend won’t be easy.
The wraparound balcony overlooks the entire Vegas strip. We’re all taking it in with both wide-eyed disbelief and anticipation. You’ve never seen five more excited women in your life.
Everything is high-end, from the Brazilian rosewood flooring to the high-thread-count sheets. Each bedroom has a large en suite bathroom, complete with an oversized rain shower and jacuzzi tub suitable for ten people.
We decide to give Shay and Alyssa one bedroom while Sulley, Palmer, and I share the other. Shay and Alyssa are most deserving of some privacy from the rest of us. I joke to Palmer and Sulley that if my bra is hanging on the doorknob of our bedroom, they shouldn’t come inside.
Sulley makes a look of disgust and tells Palmer they’ll share one of the beds while I’ll get the other for myself.
We wash up and then spend the next few hours at one of the hotel’s massive sports bars. I allow myself one drink but am still a little trigger-shy and don’t accept drinks from the several strange men who offer them to me.
Every single basketball game is being played on the hundreds of televisions spread all over the walls of the bar. It’s like basketball porn, and we’re eating up every second of it.
After a few morning games, we decide to watch the late afternoon games from the rooftop pools at a different hotel.
Apparently, the pools are set up like stadium seating, and there’s a huge screen with all the games playing.
Layla arranged it so that one of the pools is roped off for our party.
It’s fun to be a rockstar, even if only for one weekend.
I’m in my nicest gold bikini. Admittedly, I look sexy as sin.
The top barely covers my nipples, and my breasts are big and spilling out of it.
The thong bottoms show off my firm ass. My legs are super long, so I’m killing it in this thing.
I have every man at the pool drooling over me.
I’m offered twenty drinks before I even make my way across the patio, but I won’t be accepting a drink from anyone except the bartender.
I look over at Palmer to check on her. She was super self-conscious about wearing a bathing suit. We bought them at a store the other day, and she made a whole production about showing herself in it. We couldn’t get her to come out of the dressing room for twenty minutes.
She seems comfortable now as she and Beau are sitting together while they talk and laugh. I know she has a crush on him, but I’m noticing more and more lately that it might not be one-sided. Go Palmer.
I’m sitting at the bar now, waiting for my drink, ignoring the man trying to talk to me while I take in Daylen in his ridiculous swim trunks, complete with a cock in the middle.
Cock as in the adult male chicken. He’s such a tool, but he has an amazing body, the best one here.
His arms are shredded, complete with thick forearms and huge biceps.
He’s got a broad, muscular chest with the same dirty blond hair that sits on his head.
He has a respectable haircut right now, which isn’t usually the case.
It looks freshly cut. His abs are so perfect that if you saw them in a photo, you’d think they were photoshopped.
Naturally, his bathing suit is ridiculously short, so I can see his thighs. They’re as thick as tree trunks.
I find myself staring at his tattoo. I wonder who Rose is.
An ex-girlfriend who broke his heart? Is that why he’s a manwhore?
Or did something happen to fuck up his ability to have a real relationship, like what happened to me so many years ago?
I have a bizarre and unwelcome pang of jealousy that her name is permanently printed on his body.
I look up at the guy trying to hit on me.
A few months ago, I would have been into him, but I haven’t been with anyone since before New Year’s Eve.
It wasn’t a conscious decision. I just haven’t been into the whole casual sex with a stranger thing.
My current feelings of uneasiness around men might run a little deeper than I’m allowing myself to believe.
I offer him a small smile when he asks me to go to the hot tub with him. “Sorry, maybe another time. I’m here to hang out with my friends.”
He smirks, revealing dimples I’m sure many women drool over. “Come on, baby,” he grabs my arm, “let’s find somewhere quiet to talk.”
I pull my arm away and grit out, “Dude, it’s not happening. Don’t call me baby and don’t touch me again.” I try to stand to get away from him, but he boxes me in with his arms.
As if I didn’t just ask him not to touch me, he reaches for me again. Before his hand makes contact, Daylen appears from out of nowhere and grabs his wrist. “The lady said no. How it works is that when a woman tells you no, you move on. Fuck off, asshole.”
The guy’s eyes widen at the six-foot-five mass of muscle glaring down at him with a venomous look I haven’t ever seen on Daylen’s face until now.
“Wow, Daylen Humblecut. Sorry, man. I didn’t realize she’s your girl.”
I open my mouth to correct him, but Daylen shifts his glare from the dickhead to me as if to say why bother.
I uncharacteristically remain tight-lipped while Daylen shifts his eyes back to the man and then gives him a little shove. “Yes, she’s my girl, so buzz off.”
The moron grins. “She’s sexy as fuck, man. Congrats.” He holds up his hand for Daylen to high-five, but Daylen doesn’t budge. He just stares at him like he’s about to pummel him.
The man finally gets the hint and walks away.
I look up at Daylen. “I don’t need you to protect me. I can handle myself.”
He shakes his head in obvious frustration. “A simple thank you would suffice.”
I eat a bit of humble pie, and my voice cracks a bit as I croak out, “Thank you.”
His face immediately softens, and he rubs my arm. Why is his touch suddenly so comforting to me? “Are you okay?” he asks. “Have you been with anyone since New Year’s? I haven’t seen you go home with anyone in months, and it used to be the regular course of business for you.”
“Are you keeping track of my sexual partners?” I snap in annoyance. Who the fuck is he to keep tabs on my sex life?
He exhales a long breath. “I don’t know why I bother.” He starts to turn away but then looks back at me. “You haven’t told any of the girls, have you?”
I shake my head.
“You should. I think it will help.”
I smirk. “Looking to help me get laid, Dr. Humblecut?”
“No, looking to be a decent human being. You should try it sometime.”
I did my best to flirt with every man at the pool all afternoon to prove to Daylen and myself that I’m fine. I could feel his eyes on me the whole time. For a reason I will never understand, I liked it. I liked that he was watching over me. It made me feel safe.
We’re now getting dressed to go out for the evening. Palmer is letting me do her hair and makeup. We’re at the vanity in the bathroom as I put on the final touches for her. Sulley gasps as she walks in. “Oh my god, Palmer, you look amazing.”
Palmer’s face lights up. She likes how she looks too, with the makeup on point and her adorable dress that we bought last year together.
I nod. “How fucking amazing are her eyes? I swear I’ve never seen anyone with this shade. I bet you used to get accused of wearing colored contact lenses when you were a kid.”
Palmer’s face falls a bit. “All the damn time. People can be so cruel.”
Sulley and I exchange knowing glances in the mirror. No one gets more online hate than Palmer. It’s tempered down since last season ended, but I’m fearful it will start up again as the new season approaches.
Sulley looks me up and down. “You look amazing too. Wow, that dress. And those shoes. Holy crap. I don’t think I could walk in those.”
I’m wearing a very short, tight red halter dress with a plunging neckline.
A little gift to myself after the PC2 check came in this fall.
My matching red, strappy Ferragamo shoes and lacy undergarments are all courtesy of Reagan’s Black Card last summer.
My hair is up, a little looser than I normally wear it, but I’m very excited about my overall look.
I’ve been dying to have somewhere to wear this dress, and a night out in Vegas seems like the perfect choice.
Sulley is also dressed to kill. In fact, all the girls are. Everyone has stepped up their fashion game. I’d like to think I had some small hand in making that happen.
Layla joins the five of us for a champagne celebratory toast. I look around at my beautiful friends. “We clean up pretty good, ladies. Not bad for a bunch of jocks.”
They all agree as we toast. I let the citrusy, flavorful bubbles slide easily down my throat as I vow to have a good time tonight. It’s been far too long.