Chapter 24 Las Vegas
Las Vegas
A drink on the plane failed to subdue her nerves, perhaps because even the turbulence reminded Kate of Abby.
She’d spent weeks bracing herself to see her, had nearly backed out of the bachelorette and told Mick she was sick more than once.
Of course, sickness didn’t seem that far-fetched when she arrived at the Bellagio, trembling and queasy in anticipation of their reunion.
But Abby wasn’t there.
Their large group, which included Mick’s cousins, sister, high school and work friends, and their senior softball class, gathered in conjoining rooms, a mess of hair straighteners, curling irons, makeup, and bottles of booze as they prepared for a night out.
“This is the first time in four years that I have no baby and no husband. I need clubs, I need shirtless men, I need to have a wardrobe malfunction, and I need to drink my weight in liquor,” Jill said as they poured shots in the bathroom. “I don’t think that’s too much to ask.”
“Yeah, because that’s an average Wednesday night for most of us.” T.K. curled her long, amber hair, diamonds adorning her wrists, neck, and most fingers. She’d gone into Los Angeles real estate after college and, when she wasn’t selling houses, traveled with her Hollywood agent boyfriend.
“Speak for yourself.” Kate eyed the door, waiting for it to open.
“I’m just saying I’m never getting off birth control. No offense, Shupe,” T.K. said.
“But I love Junie.” Jill frowned from her seat on the edge of the bathtub. “I miss her. I think I should call.”
T.K. rolled her eyes as Jill slinked to the bedroom. The tight quarters, the gossip, the shrieking girls, were reminiscent of their college road trips. Kate could at least revel in being dumb kids for another weekend.
“So, are you excited to see Cruz?” T.K. asked.
Kate tightened her face against a reaction while she assessed herself in the mirror. “I wish everyone would stop saying that.”
“I think she’s excited to see you.” T.K. wiggled her eyebrows. “Nervous probably.”
Kate cleared her throat. “I assumed she ditched.”
“Oh, she’s coming. Trust me.”
Kate smoothed out her dress, a too short, too tight, too revealing loan from an insistent T.K.
“You two hang out a lot?” she asked.
T.K. shrugged as she leaned closer to the mirror and applied lipstick.
“Kind of. I mean, I helped her buy the condo in Malibu, but she’s barely there.
It’s like a glorified storage unit. We meet up when she’s in town though.
” T.K. flicked her eyes to Kate and leaned back from her reflection.
“Honestly, when she’s in the States, she’s mostly with her sister.
I can barely keep track of what country she’s in. No one can.”
Kate nodded and looked down at her feet while she endured another gut punch. The one that came from Abby being so close, but so far. That everyone else had heard from her, while Kate got nothing. Like she’d done something wrong. An unfair punishment that she couldn’t perfect herself out of.
“Hey.” T.K. lifted Kate’s chin and smiled. “You look hot. Here.” She brought red lipstick to Kate’s mouth. She felt like a helpless college student again, secretly wishing to be cool and for Abby to notice her. “Cruz is going to die.”
“I’m not trying to get anything out of Abby,” Kate said.
“Oh, I know. But torturing her might be nice, don’t you think? Remind her what she missed out on?” T.K. winked.
The confidence boost, the plot of revenge, and the booze bolstered Kate as they hit the bars.
More than one head turned on their stroll through the casino.
T.K., familiar with every spot on the strip, got them into Room X, a nightclub with caged dancers, a light show, shirtless bartenders, and a celebrity DJ who Kate didn’t know but everyone else screamed over.
She really was back in college, clueless and overstimulated.
“To Mick’s last weekend of freedom! May she make her best mistakes now, before she makes the biggest one of all!” T.K. toasted.
“You’re awful,” Jill slurred.
“To Mick!”
It wasn’t yet midnight, but they’d already gotten sauced at dinner and a show, sufficiently spiraling past tipsiness. T.K. paid for bottle service, so alcohol streamed steadily to their booth along with countless drinks sent courtesy of winking, sweaty men.
“Where the hell is Cruz?” Jill asked.
“Her plane landed a bit ago.” Mick shrugged. “She’ll be here.”
Kate blanched as she scanned the crowd.
“Come on.” T.K. handed her a shot. “Let’s dance!”
“I don’t know.” Kate hiccupped.
“Dance! Dance! Dance!” Jill jumped up and chanted.
The three of them bumped their way to the floor.
Kate swayed at T.K.’s and Jill’s behest. She wasn’t one for dancing, but the music, the energy, and her buzz inspired her to bop along.
She jumped around with Jill and let herself forget about Abby.
T.K. quickly found an admirer to dance against, and when a husky voice met Kate’s ear, she startled.
“What’s your name, beautiful?” the man asked.
Kate laughed. “Um, no thank you.”
“No Thank You? Beautiful name. What is that, French?”
“Hey, back off.” Jill draped an arm around Kate. “She will sue you, and you do not want to know her hourly rate.”
Kate snorted as the guy became disinterested and tried his luck with a more available short dress.
As she recovered from the fit of laughter, her gaze landed on what she’d longed for.
Abby. They stood in swarms of strangers, but the red and purple–hued sea parted, and they found each other without trying.
The bass dropped to a low note and Kate’s stomach dove right along with it, static lighting up her skin and prickling her spine.
“Fuck,” she whispered.
Abby raised her hand and nodded. She wore gold and black patterned trousers and a matching vest, something designer, arms toned and strong, hair dark and cropped short. Just as broad and beautiful as five years ago. Maybe more so.
“Cruz! Finally!” Jill shouted.
She skipped across the dance floor and flung her arms around Abby.
T.K. followed, but Kate bolted. She weaved and ducked through the crowd, losing Abby and their friends as she posted up at the bar.
She needed another drink. The bartender ignored her and while she’d get prompt service at their table, she wasn’t about to watch Abby reunite with all the friends she kept except her.
So, she took matters into her own hands and reached over the bar for a bottle of vodka.
“Hey!” The bartender caught her immediately. “Don’t reach over the bar!”
“Okay, okay!” Kate darted back, startlingly aware that she was drunker than she thought. “Can I please have a vodka soda?”
He glared. “Yeah, just wait.”
Kate dragged in a ragged breath. When the drink finally arrived, she hissed “Jerk” under her breath and the bartender scowled. She barely got a sip down before the source of her anguish descended the stairs. Abby ambled easily, Mick, Jill, and T.K. behind her. Kate clenched her drink.
She wasn’t ready. It’d been five years without a word. Five years like she was nothing. Abby had gotten the letter and never wrote back. She’d broken Kate, and she knew it. Now she walked over like it was nothing.
“How’s it going, Hutch?” Abby asked.
Kate lost it at the four simple words and Abby’s beautiful face stopping across from her. During the brief lapse in which rage and intoxication paralyzed her judgment, Kate threw her drink in Abby’s face.
While Abby expected some sort of consequence for her actions after the national championship, she never predicted it would be vodka dripping down her face at a Las Vegas club.
Kate glared straight through her, clutching the empty glass.
She shuddered on the receiving end of it.
An unnatural haze over the person Abby spilled tears for and drank to forget.
“That’s it!” the bartender shouted. “She’s out of here!”
“I think it just slipped out of her hand.” Jill patted the man’s forearm.
He jerked away and snarled. “No, she’s been causing problems all night!”
“Her?” Abby’s eyes widened.
She knew Kate had changed. When she spotted her on the dance floor, batting off an admirer, she exuded more confidence and beauty than Abby remembered.
She froze and gawked, thankful for Jill and T.K.
knocking her back to reality with their hugs.
But of all the changes, including Kate’s new spite, Abby doubted her a troublemaker.
“I’m getting security,” the bartender said.
“Don’t bother.” Kate scowled. “I’m leaving.”
“No, no, we’ll all leave then.” Mick belligerently swayed between them, a hand on each of their shoulders. “Isn’t this nice?”
“We’re not leaving. I’ve already paid for bottle service.” T.K. turned to Abby and lowered her voice. “And a stripper.”
Abby sighed. “Mick, you can’t leave your own bachelorette.”
“What about Hutch?” Jill asked.
“I’m fine.” Kate waved her off.
“You have thirty seconds to get out of here!” the bartender shouted.
“I’ll make sure she gets back,” Abby said.
Kate hit her with a stare that could cut ice. “I don’t need your help.”
“Well, I have to go back to the hotel and change thanks to you,” Abby said as Jill dabbed her face with cocktail napkins.
“Fine.” Kate bumped past her.
Abby gritted her teeth and debated staying behind. Her outfit would dry itself out, but she had waited five years for this. Five years for a few seconds and she was already gone. “Fuck,” she whispered.
“You gonna get her or what?” Jill asked.
“I’ll be right back.”
“Go Cruz Missile!” Mick yelled.
Abby sprinted to catch up with Kate on the strip, ducking by feathered showgirls and an Elvis impersonator. The blurring lights, the noise, the cigarette smoke, and crowds reminded her of Tokyo. She eyed Kate’s backside in that tight black dress and trailed it like a magnet.
“Can you slow down?” Abby shouted after her.
She didn’t turn around or stop. “No!”