Becky
10:18 AM THURSDAY
“I think if it had caught us, it would have fucked us to death,” Percy pants, leaning up against the bathroom door.
Behind us, enclosed within the bathroom once more, I can still hear the rogue vibrator buzzing sinisterly.
“That’s not a vibrator,” I sigh, chest heaving. “That’s a weapon.”
“That’s a Celine Dion-level vibrator,” Percy adds.
I don’t know why, but for some reason, I completely agree.
Meanwhile, Mysti May is dealing with the freshly awakened showgirls in the kitchen, who all seem like they’re eager to get friendly with poor Mysti all over again.
“You’re very sweet, bless your hearts, but you misunderstand. I’m not interested.”
The showgirl with the long brown hair and a snake tattoo on her ass tries again to wrap her arms around Mysti. Indignant, Mysti May pushes her away, polite but firm. Typical Texas beauty queen attitude, really.
Considering that the night I met Mysti May, we were paired together for a tag-team topless jello shot wrestling match, I feel like it wouldn’t surprise me if she had banged all three of the showgirls.
I mean, she’s always kind of put off that vibe, you know?
But the truth is, I don’t really want to know what the fuck Mysti May got up to last night. I doubt I really fucking want to know what I got up to last night. Deep down I know that whatever it was, it was no fucking good.
“Really, y’all, you’re very pretty, but I’m a happily married woman, you see.” Mysti May is smiling at them like a glass of over-sweetened tea as she comes to my side for support.
“Do you think I should pay them some more money?” she whispers in my ear and I shrug. Her voice sounds like a jet engine landing in my fucking head.
I just want someone to make this all go away.
Please, Lord, make it all go the fuck away.
Good fucking choices. Where the fuck did I go wrong? How am I going to explain this to Dan?
Percy appears and shakes her head.
“Still no fucking sign of Sammi.”
Fuck.
Not only have I completely fucked up last night, I’ve also lost one of my best friends. How is that even fucking possible?
Where could she be?
“Have you tried to ring her cell?” May has returned wearing a bathrobe and carrying some cash.
Sammi’s cell phone. Of course. Why the fuck have I not thought of this myself?
I race to the little coffee table where I last saw my own phone and pick it up. Frantically, I scroll through my numbers and press Sammi’s when it comes up on my screen.
After a few ringtones, I hear Sammi’s voice.
Thank fuck.
“Samira Brighton speaking—”
“Oh my god, Sammi, we’ve had the worst night,” I begin. “Everything’s fucked and we can’t find you anywhere and—”
“I can’t come to the phone right now, but if you’ll kindly leave a message at the tone, I’m sure I’ll get back to you as soon as possible.”
Rats.
“Voicemail,” I say to the others and hold the phone up.
“Hey, Sammi,” I say into the phone. “Shit’s fucked. Mayday. Call us when you get this message. Please.”
Oh god. What if she can’t call us? What if something fucking terrible and awful has happened to her?
What if she’s been kidnapped by the Korean mafia? Trapped in an elevator? Dosed with roofies and locked up on top of the building?
“She’s fine,” Percy assures me. “It’s Sammi we’re talking about. If any of us is fine—it’s her.”
I stare at my phone, worrying about Sammi. Percy is right, of course—but while I’m making phone calls, there’s another person I know I need to talk to right now.
Before I chicken out and talk myself out of it, I dial Dan’s number.
Might as well get the confession over and done with quickly, so he knows what a fucking whore I am, and he can break off the marriage before everyone shows up for the wedding. If I can find my engagement ring, I’ll give it back to him.
If not, I guess a million dollar IOU will have to suffice.
“Hey,” Dan’s voice says through the phone.
I take a deep breath. “Hey Dan, it’s Becky. I have, uh—I have something pretty shitty to tell you, and there’s no easy way to say this, but—”
“You’ve reached the message bank of Dan the Man Hardbottom. Please drop me a line after the tone.”
I sigh.
“Dan…please call me. Please. We need to talk.”
“Becky?” Mysti May calls from the bathroom. The one that we currently don’t have a murderous vibrator trapped in. “You’re gonna want to see this.”
I walk in nervously, still clutching my phone. Mysti is standing over the toilet and pointing into the bowl.
“Mysti—hon,” I say, cringing and drawing away. “If you’ve thrown up, I super don’t need to see it.”
Mysti May rolls her blue beauty queen eyes. “I haven’t thrown up since I beat bulimia. Come look.”
Ready to gag, I approach the white toilet bowl. For some reason, I’m still expecting to see puke.
Instead, sleeping soundly beneath the Tidy-Bowl blue water of the toilet bowl, is Sammi’s sleek black cellphone.
“We could get some tongs from the kitchen to fish it out?” Mysti May suggests.
“What the fuck is her phone doing in the toilet, though?”
“Seems like everything else went to shit last night,” Mysti May jokes. “And Sammi has always taken things pretty literally…”
Not helpful.
“Get it out of the toilet,” I sigh. “If you can.”
“…ew.” Mysti May sneers. “I’ll give it my cowgirl’s best—but no promises..”
I call Dan’s number again. I get the voicemail again. I wish he’d call or answer his fucking phone, so I could get this confession thing out of the way sooner rather than later.
I mean, my marriage’s already in shambles before it’s even begun. Might as well let him know that he doesn’t need to fly in from San Francisco after all, if nothing else.
“Hey, Dan,” I say after his voice mail sounds the beep. “About last night—we seriously need to talk. Please call me back. I’m sor—”
Percy grabs my phone before I can finish my apology and presses the end button. Then, for good measure, she slaps me right across the face. My ears start ringing. It wasn’t a hard slap, but all the alcohol is still swirling in my head and—
“What the fuck are you doing? What were you thinking?” Percy screeches at me.
“I have to tell Dan that I fucked that dude,” I insist, trying to grab the phone back.
“No,” Percy says, shaking a pudgy finger at me. “You fucked that dude allegedly. I’m dating like three lawyers right now, Becks, and if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that you should always plead the fifth.”
“But I feel guilty,” I whine. Because, fuck, I really do.
“Don’t care,” Percy says. “No point in ruining your life over it. Now, you can have this back when you’re done trying to incriminate yourself for something you might not have done.”
I open my mouth to argue further, but I’m caught off by a panicked scream.
“HELP!!!!!!!! Fuck my fucking fuck, HELP!”
I know that voice.
Sammi.
We race to the veranda door and stare open mouthed into the saltwater pool overlooking the Vegas skyline.
I blink.
Can this disaster get any fucking worse?
Sure as sin, there’s Sammi, looking like a hot mess and floating on an air mattress in the pool.
That, of course, is not why she’s calling for help.
I see the fin first, and then a small flash of sharp teeth.
In the pool with her, swimming circles around the air mattress, is a fucking shark.
I get to the edge of the pool first, hearing the Jaws theme song playing in the back of my mind.
“Help me? P-please help me,” whimpers Sammi.
I’ve never ever heard Sammi call anyone for help. Sammi is, like, the most capable person I’ve ever met in my life. I once saw her cut her hand open while shotgunning a beer…then proceed to stitch up her own wound with a sewing needle and some dental floss.
Fuck. She must be really fucking scared.
Percy grabs a long-poled cleaning net and prods Sammi’s airbed with it. The airbed swirls on the spot before it moves toward the side of the pool, where I run to meet it.
The shark seems to pay us no attention whatsoever. It doesn’t even seem interested in devouring Sammi whole—which is probably exactly what it wants us to think.
“Sammi, take my hand!” I call to her and hold out my arm.
Sammi grabs it and I drag her onto safety.
We’re both breathing so hard at this point, you’d think we’d just run a topless marathon.
Which is when I hear it: “Viva Las Vegas” playing from my cellphone again.
Percy and I both bolt for the phone, but I’ve been jogging daily for the past six months to prep for my wedding dress, whereas Percy sees cardio as a form of extreme punishment.
I get there first.
“Honey?” my voice is a little shaky. “Dan, I—”
I’m at a loss for words. I have to confess, but I don’t know how. Just that I have to. And I’m going to. And when I do, Dan is probably going to hate me forever and tear me to shreds.
“Becky? Hey, sorry, it’s Martin. Dan’s not free right now.”
Oh. Not Dan. One of his groomsmen, or employees, or cronies—shy, awkward little Martin. Oh, thank fuck. I’ve never felt so relieved in my life.
“Yeah, um, so, here’s the thing, Becky. Dan’s really, really busy right now. It’s just not possible for him to speak to you. Are you okay? Need something? You’ve still got his step-brother’s number, right?”
Martin always sounds nervous. Like, that’s just who he is. So I try not to read too much into the hint of panic in his voice—even though it’s totally unsettling, given the circumstances.
“Martin, look. I really, really need to speak with Dan. Please. Can’t you just get him to come to the phone for a few minutes? It won’t take long.”
“I, well it’s just, you know, busy, and he doesn’t—I mean, the stock options and—” Martin is rambling, and I’m beginning to wonder if this big merger has him on edge or if I’m still drunk, because I can’t understand a damn thing he’s saying to me.
“Becky,” a smooth, confident voice interrupts Martin’s rambling. “It’s Connor here. How are you?”
Connor. I know Connor, even if I don’t fucking like him. Connor is an arrogant prick that thinks he’s better than everyone else. He’s the CEO of Dan’s company, Dan’s best friend, and his best man to boot.
But at least when he talks, I can piece together the words he’s saying.
“Look, Connor, I really need to speak to Dan. It’s really important. I won’t take up much of his time,” I plead.
“Sorry, Becky, but Dan is balls-deep in this merger. You know how it is. It’s hard, tedious work—takes a lot of focus. Dan’s just in the middle of some really tricky negotiating—want me to take a message?”
“But I really need to speak to him—” I start again but Connor is firm.
“I knew you’d understand, Becky. You’re a smart girl, and Dan is a very lucky man to be marrying you. I’ll be sure to let him know you called as soon as I can. We’ll sort this out, I promise. Until then, enjoy Vegas—and that’s an order.”
Before I can get another word in, the call has been ended—not by me, but by Connor.
Slimy prick.
What did he mean, we’ll sort this out? I don’t want fucking Connor to sort anything out. I want to speak to my husband-to-be…before he’s not my anything anymore.
“Sammi,” I say, turning to my shivering, shaking friend. “Do you happen to have like…any idea what happened last night?”
Sammi shakes her head no. Great.
“Any chance you know how the shark got in the pool?”
We all cast a glance at the single fin skimming ominously around the pool’s surface.
“Not a clue,” Sammi admits.
Looks like we won’t be going for a swim anytime soon.
“So…what now?” Sammi asks.
I shrug. Percy does the same.
“More coffee?” Mysti May suggests.
Considering the mess we’re in…more coffee isn’t a bad place to start.