Chapter 3
Chapter Three
“You know, you’re glowing. Whatever sex you’re having, obviously it’s good.” I smirk at my friend.
“I agree.” Rachel’s voice comes through the speaker. Charlotte and I video-called her so she wasn’t left out. Rachel is a first-year resident at the local hospital back home. She can’t just up and leave as easy as I did.
“The best.” Charlotte smiles wide, and my heart fills with happiness for her.
She deserves this. To be happy. She was stuck in a dead relationship for years. Rachel and I both asked her if she really wanted to go through with that wedding and she kept insisting she did, so we dropped it and went along with her plans.
It’s shitty that it ended the way that it did for her, with her fiancé fucking her sister and all, but I’m not sorry she got out. Because now she can finally be herself. She can finally be happy.
I dig through my makeup bag until I find what I’m looking for and pull out the red lip stain I bought just for Charlotte. It matches perfectly with her dark locks.
I also hope it will be a nice distraction after hearing the news that her ex is dead.
He was found in a hotel room, right here in Vegas.
Overdose. Which wasn’t like him at all. Owen was an asshole, sure.
But he wasn’t into drugs. Charlotte hasn’t said anything, but we’re both thinking it.
This guy she’s been dating, Louie, I’m almost positive he had something to do with it.
I say good riddance, though. That asshole broke my best friend’s heart and wasted years of her youth.
Do I think he deserved to die? Probably not, but I’m not sad about it either.
My emotions are also easily deflected, my walls so high when it comes to caring about anyone that isn’t Charlotte or Rachel.
I would do anything for those two women.
Even jumping on a plane in the middle of the night to fly across the country.
It’s not as hard being back here as I thought it would be.
There are loads of things to distract me.
For an insomniac such as myself, this is the perfect city.
There’s always something happening. I’m trying out the glass is half full thing.
“Blot,” I tell Charlotte after painting her lips a bright red and holding some folded tissue up to her mouth.
She does as instructed without complaint.
I know she’s doing it for me. She actually hates being my Barbie.
It helps take my mind off the fact that I’m here.
In Vegas. Again. I won’t allow my past to dictate my happiness, which is why whenever those thoughts come up, I shove them down and refocus on my friend.
“I think this is my best work yet!” I exclaim, spinning Charlotte around so she can look in the mirror.
“Holy shit.” Charlotte gasps the moment she sees her reflection.
I’ve put her in a tiny white dress with a low-cut neck and a high-cut hem. It fits her like a glove. I packed it just for her. I’ll admit I was nervous about putting her in white. I wasn’t sure if it’d give off wedding vibes.
“You look fuckable,” I tell her. “It’s a real shame I’m not into girls.”
“I think Louie would kill you if you tried to hit on me.” Charlotte laughs and then suddenly stops. Her eyes widen. “I’m a horrible person, Evie.” She slumps onto the bed.
“Why would you think that?” I ask her.
“Because Owen is dead, and it’s my fault.” She sighs before whispering, “And… I really think Louie did it.”
“Do you want to go home? I will find a way to get you out of this city without anyone knowing.” I don’t know how, seeing as she has a fucking babysitter in the living room. But I will find a way.
“That’s the thing, Evie…” Charlotte looks like she’s about ready to burst into tears.
“What?”
“I don’t want to leave. I want to be with him. I want to stay with him. Even if he did it,” she admits. “What kind of person does that make me?”
Someone who is blinded by love… or dickmatized. Probably the latter. She can’t possibly love this man after just a few days.
“You are one of the kindest, most loyal, most trustworthy people I know, Charlotte. There isn’t a terrible bone in your body.
I’ve never even heard you utter the words bless your heart to anyone.
You are a good person. So who cares if you want to spend some time getting thoroughly fucked by a god? That doesn’t make you bad,” I tell her.
“He’s a murderer, Evie.”
“With a good dick,” I add.
“Well, yeah, but he killed Owen,” she says in a hushed tone.
“First, I doubt he’s killing people with his dick, which is the part of him you’re addicted to. And second, we don’t know that for sure. Neither of us was there. We didn’t see anything.”
“Just because you don’t see something, doesn’t mean it didn’t happen,” she says.
My heart picks up speed. I know better than anyone how true that is.
“I know that.” My hands shake. I can feel the sweat on my forehead.
“Shit, Evie, I’m sorry.” Charlotte jumps off the bed and wraps her arms around me. “I’ve been so focused on my own issues I didn’t think about what I was saying.”
“It’s okay,” I whisper, holding on to her tighter.
“It’s not. But we will be. Both of us,” she says.
She will be. Me? I’m never going to be okay again. I can fake it, though.
Stepping back out of her embrace, I shake the sadness away and plaster on my best beauty-queen smile. “Right, well, enough of this melancholy. We’re in Vegas and we are going to have a good time.”
“We are. But you need to change. You are not putting me in a slutty dress and heels while you’re staying in Chucks.” Charlotte points to my feet.
I peer down at myself. I’m still wearing the denim dress I put on in the airport bathroom. It was the first thing I did after I got off the flight. I went into the restroom, washed my face, and reapplied a fresh layer of makeup. I was not showing up here not looking my best.
“Okay, I’ll change, but I need to shower first,” I tell her.
“Through there. I’ll be out in the living room with Sammie. Take your time,” Charlotte says before disappearing through the bedroom door.
I shut myself inside the bathroom, turn on the hot water, and let the space steam up as I undress.
I avoid looking in the mirror. I hate seeing myself naked.
Don’t get me wrong. I know I’m beautiful.
How could I not? I’ve been told just how beautiful I am throughout my entire life.
It’s because of that beauty that I hate my reflection. Nothing good has ever come from it.
Actually, that’s not entirely true. I could use my looks to my advantage if I wanted to. I never do, or at least I try not to. But I can’t help it if people treat me differently based on how I appear on the outside. That’s on them, not me.
What I can do is avoid the truth, and that’s something I have down to a fine art.
I step into the shower and let the water wash over me, piling my hair on top of my head to avoid getting it wet. I don’t want to keep Charlotte too long, and if I have to do a full blowout, she’ll be waiting a while.
After cleansing my entire body, I rinse off the suds and repeat the process. I do this three times before I get out my sugar scrub and rub at my skin. I take my shower process very seriously. This routine keeps everything silky-smooth.
Once I’m out of the shower, I tap my skin dry with a soft towel before applying a floral-scented lotion. This is then repeated with a floral-scented body oil. When I’m done, I wrap a towel around myself and wipe the fog away from the mirror.
“Right, time to fix yourself, Evie,” I whisper to my bare-faced reflection.
There are days I wish I could go out without a speck of makeup on. What would people think if they saw the tiny freckles that dot my nose? Would they notice that my skin sometimes blotches? Would they treat me differently?
Today is not the day I’m going to find out.
I walk into the bedroom and retrieve my makeup bag, and forty minutes later, my hair and face are perfectly done.
Next, I dig into my bag and pull out my black leather shorts and matching black corset.
I told Charlotte I would get dressed up just as slutty as I made her.
For me, that’s easy. I’m used to people staring at me.
It doesn’t matter what I wear. They still stare.
Sometimes I think they know. That they can see under the mask.
But they don’t. No one bothers to look any deeper than surface level.
Well, nobody other than Rachel and Charlotte.
But even they don’t know the full extent of my ugliness.
Charlotte knows some. Rachel knows even less than that.
It’s a burden I choose to keep to myself. It’s easier that way.
I pair my outfit with a cute red-bottomed ankle boot. Running my fingers through my hair one more time, I check out my reflection from the back. Once I’m satisfied with the outcome, I walk out of the bedroom and go in search of Charlotte.
It’s time to show this town how southern girls turn it up.