Chapter 13
PETAL
I play through the evening like a movie on rerun, going all the way back to dinner. After we stuff ourselves on dessert, we go to the casino, where Jonas takes it upon himself to coach me.
“Let’s start with craps,” he said. “You want to roll a number and then the same one again, before a seven is rolled.”
“Why?” I say.
He shrugs. “Because that’s how the game is played.”
That’s just stupid.
He continues trying to explain things to me, but it doesn’t sink in. Throngs of people are buzzing around, the noise of the casino is deafening, and people are smoking. Focusing on numbers is not going to happen.
“Thank you for trying, Jonas. I’m gonna go play the dollar slots.”
He looks sad for a moment, that he failed to win over a new convert, but quickly turns back to the game and starts shouting. “Come on, baby!” he screams.
Rake follows me over to the slot machines.
“You don’t have to babysit me. I’ll be fine,” I say.
Crap. That sounded so bitchy.
He watches me as I put my card in and start pressing buttons. It makes an unholy racket with its ding-ding-dings, thank God, because that means we can’t talk.
Or so I think.
“I’m not babysitting you,” he says, his deep voice drowning out the noise.
I could pretend not to hear him. But that would be shitty.
So I dive in. I have questions, and now is as good a time as any to get answers. I told him all my shit. His turn to spill. “It is true, Rake, what’s your problem with getting in fights?” I ask, putting more money in the machine because I don’t know what else to do.
I don’t want to look at him, not if I can help it. It was hard enough, sitting next to him all dinner, fielding his politely curious questions with his damn attentive gaze and perfect, manly bone structure.
Truly. It’s not fair that someone so good-looking should also be nice.
If there were any justice in this world, he’d be an asshole.
Just like I thought he was in the beginning, when it would have killed him to crack a smile or even feign the slightest bit of manners.
He’s proving me wrong, and I don’t like being proven wrong.
I wanted to believe he was just a dumb jock, so immersed in his little world of pro sports that he knows nothing else of the world around him, and is so self-centered, he’s not even aware other people exist.
But, damn him, he was able to discuss current events, and his curiosity about me blew that theory out of the water.
“I see you did your homework too, Petal. I don’t blame you. And to be honest, I’ve done a lot of boneheaded things. I’m working on cleaning that up.”
Tyler and Jonas show up with a tray full of tequila shots, and what the hell, I take one and down it. It’s nasty, but in my confused state about this guy who I was set on hating, who is turning out to be a decent human being, my thoughts are a jumbled mess.
“Look at Petal!” Tyler shouts, passing me another.
“No, I’ve had enough.” I know when to stop. But I can’t deny I’m feeling pretty freaking good.
“I’ll take hers,” Rake says. In an instant, it’s gone.
Interesting night. I’m being doted on by a gorgeous hockey player who attracts all sorts of attention, which he is mostly oblivious to as long as camera flashes aren’t blinding him.
On top of that, I’m having fun. It’s all so strange.
And things get even stranger when we meander down the Strip and pass one of those cheesy wedding chapels they have so many of here.
Tyler jumps in front of us like a crazed monkey. “I dare you guys. I dare you to go in there and get married. Vince would lose his motherfucking mind!”
The thought of doing anything to irritate Vince sounds immensely attractive. And yet.
“Dude, fuck off,” Rake laughs, and pushes him out of the way.
“Aw, you never go for it. You never say what the fuck,” Tyler taunts. “You wouldn’t know a good time if it sat on your face.”
The rest of the gang surrounds us.
“Can you imagine?” Zink says. “Coming back to San Francisco married? That would be hilarious.”
Or you know, fucking crazy.
“You know,” Jonas says, “it could help with your… issue, Rake.”
Rake shakes his head, and we pass the wedding chapel. “Oh yeah, great idea, guys.”
In moments, Tyler’s leading the group in a chorus of ‘Do it! Do it! Do it!’
Very funny.
Rake takes my hand. He actually takes my hand. And I grip his right back. He looks at his friends who’ve completely lost their minds, then looks up and down the street at the adult playground that is Las Vegas.
He turns to me, eyes sparkling.
Oh no.
What is he up to?
“Hey, Petal. When was the last time you did something completely out of character? Like batshit crazy, unconventional, and spontaneous?”
My mouth opens, then closes again, like a gasping fish.
“Let your hair down, baby,” Rake says.
“It’s already down,” I say.
Truth be told, I don’t do a lot of crazy. But I’m not about to admit that to Rake and his friends. They already think I’m a charity date.
Wendy and Daria are at my side. “You know the saying, ‘when in Vegas,’ right?” Wendy asks, nudging me with a giggle.
“Yes, I’m familiar with it,” I say nervously.
This can’t be happening. My resolve is crumbling. Actually, really crumbling. The tequila shot, and the wine before it, has gone to my head, and I’m really, actually contemplating doing something only a fucking idiot would consider.
That’s me. A fucking idiot.
But I’ve been careful all my life. Made nothing but good decisions.
How often do I get to make such a gloriously bad one?
Without further thought, as if I’d just turned into an obedient robot, I let Wendy and Daria steer me toward the Chapel of Forever Dreams. I fill out the information for a marriage license and someone—I have no idea who—pays for it and it’s thrust into my hands.
Has the neon and noise of Sin City scrambled the last sensible thought in my head?
Is it the wine? Or maybe spending time with one of the most handsome, buff men I’ve ever seen and his equally hunky friends has gotten to me?
I’ve already thrown caution to the wind by getting on a private jet with a bunch of strangers. Why not finish the night with a bam?
Wendy and Daria make their elbows available to walk me down the aisle. I catch myself in one of the chapel’s many mirrors, shocked at the unflattering shadows cast on us by the overhead fluorescent lights. Guess you have to pay extra for the glamour lighting.
The three of us giggle and bump into each other as we head toward Rake and his buddies, slapping him on the back, egging him on.
The riot of tackiness that is the chapel is the perfect complement to this insanity, with its random collection of neon hearts, flamingos, palm trees, pink velvet chairs trimmed in gold, and surplus of gurgling fountains full of large and small cupids.
Seriously. If you thought of every wacky thing that could go into a Las Vegas wedding chapel and threw it all together in one place, that’s what this would look like.
There’s never been a more perfect setting screaming ‘impromptu Vegas wedding.’ Anyplace else on earth, this would be an eyesore, but here, it’s brilliantly on-brand.
Even the plastic fake-bouquet I’m carrying has flashing lights in it.
I get to the end of the carpet, where Wendy and Daria each kiss me on the cheek, like a parent giving their daughter away. I turn to face Rake, a near-stranger. He takes my hands and moves a step closer, and I’m dizzy with the contradictory thoughts careening through my useless brain.
My heart takes a funny little skip, which I’m not sure I like.
“This is fucking crazy,” I mumble.
What if this guy doesn’t like my favorite TV shows?
What if he snores?
What if he hates sushi?
The all important…
What will people think?
And last but not least…
How does annulment work?
We face the officiant, ready to create either the most romantic story ever told, or biggest fucking joke.
The gang gathers around us, taking photo after photo, memorializing my stupidity so it can follow me to the end of my days.
A tale like this will be told and retold for years to come, and yet… I feel a strange surge of excitement.
What happens in Vegas may stay in Vegas… except for getting married on a dare.
And now that shit’s going to follow me home.