Chapter 4

Becky

5:27 PM WEDNESDAY

 

My fiancé might not be the most interesting man in the world, or the most laid back, but I’ve gotta hand it to him: the red private jet to Las Vegas is a good touch.

I smile sadly. It would be nice to fucking share it with someone. It’s a pity my bridesmaids are all coming from different cities. I stayed in California after I graduated from UCLA, but Mysti May, Percy, and Sammi scattered all fucking over.

Thank god for video chat.

The in-flight phone buzzes, and I press answer.

“Hey darlin’!” The screen is filled with Misty May’s beautiful face in all of its high cheekboned, Miss America glory.

“Hey Mist. You left Texas yet?”

Her thick blonde waves bounce like she’s in a shampoo commercial as she nods.

“Heading your way from Dallas right now. Alfonso let me use one of his private jets, too. Your hubby isn’t the only one who likes to spoil his little lady.”

Pretending to gag would be rude, so I grimace.

“He’s not my hubby yet,” I sigh.

Mysti May hasn’t shut the fuck up about her fancy billionaire husband Alfonso since she met him just a few months ago. I have this nasty little feeling that she married him so quickly just so she could beat me to the altar…not that it matters or anything.

“Great. You heard from Percy or Sammi yet?”

Mysti May giggles. Her laugh sounds like the bubbles in a glass of strawberry champagne.

“They’re on their way. Commercial flights, though.” Mysti May sounds way too happy about that. Like we’re part of some billionaire fuck club that affords us privileges that our other friends don’t have. Although…I guess that’s kind of the case. “Why don’t we toast to our trip, Becky? You’ve got champagne on board, right?”

Now there’s a fucking brilliant suggestion if ever I heard one. There’s just one problem.

“I’ve got sparkling grape juice,” I say, looking away from the screen.

Rule #1: No drinking.

“Ew,” Mysti May sneers. “Do I want to ask?”

“Nope.”

“Pregnant?”

“No, thank god. I’ll tell you later,” I say.

It takes me less than a minute to get a cool glass of non-alcoholic bubbles organized.

“Cheers,” we say at the same time and lift our glasses.

We chat for a bit longer until my captain announces we’re getting ready to land.

“See you in a bit, darlin’!” says Mysti May before the screen goes black.

In the arrivals terminal, I spot Percy and Sammi right away.

“Besties!” I squeal, knowing damn well that I’m being too loud and overexcited. I dance on the spot, and we hug and kiss and shriek some more.

“Fucking missed you,” Sammi says, kissing me on both cheeks. “It’s been so boring out on the research boat—let’s be sluts and go play the slots, yeah? I’m dying to let my hair down.”

“Um, about that,” I say, eyeballing Sammi’s sleek, tight, elegant ponytail.

Rule #2: No gambling.

I hope she brought extra ponytail holders.

“Becks!” Percy bellows, throwing her arms around me and squeezing me so tight I can feel my kidneys start to bruise. “Please tell me we’ve booked some fuckable strippers. Momma needs man meat!”

“Uh,” I say.

Because then there’s Rule #3: No hooking up.

I look down at my engagement ring, thankful that I’ve remembered to put it on. Maybe thinking about the million dollars that Dan the Man blew on it will help me break it to my bridesmaids that we won’t be hitting anything harder than the spa this week.

“Angels!” Mysti May interrupts, trotting over to us in a pair of rhinestone heels with her long, beauty queen legs. “Our limo is waiting, let’s go already!”

It feels good to be back with my girls again. We haven’t all seen each other since graduation from UCLA, and now we feel a bit like the three amigos again—except for the fact that there are four of us, I guess.

When we get outside to the limo, my jaw fucking drops. I’m not sure who organized it, but I don’t fucking care.

When I see it I turn to my girls. They grin.

“Red!” I squeal in delight.

“Do you like it?” Mysti May asks. “I told Alfonso it was your favorite, and he booked it without even batting an eye. It’s not as big as the one he bought me for our vacation house, of course, but…” Mysti sighs dreamily. “Latin lovers. Soooo romantic.”

Percy, Sammi, and I make eye contact. I stick my finger in my throat in a pretend gag, and we all giggle while Mysti May’s back is turned.

“You okay, darlin’?” she asks, turning her head.

“Oh, totally,” I assure her and head to the limo. It’s the same color of red as my Louboutins. “I fucking love it.” And I really do.

The inside is a mix of red and black. A bottle of champagne on ice is waiting for us, and I settle back on the soft leather.

“So…elephant in the limousine,” Sammi says tentatively. “Dan the Man can’t make it?”

I nod.

For a little while, I was so caught up in reuniting with my BFFs, I’d forgotten my future husband isn’t even going to show up until the day of the wedding.

“Blessing in disguise,” Sammi reassures me, popping the cork of the champagne. She fills up our glasses, passing them out as she announces a toast: “To one last hurrah!”

“Hurrah!” echo the others, but I say nothing.

Sammi holds my glass out to me, and I hesitate to take it.

I’m biting my bottom lip.

“Darlin’?” Mysti May’s voice seems a long way away.

“Becks,” Percy echoes. “You okay?”

I shake my head.

Time to break the news, I guess.

“We can’t drink.” I confess, hanging my head.

“You’re pregnant?!” Percy and Sammi gasp.

“No,” I reassure them. “It’s just…Dan the Man left us with some ground rules.”

My BFFs are staring at me like I just stole Christmas.

“And they are?” asks Sammi, narrowing her eyes like a hawk.

Out of the three of them, she’s always disliked Dan most. It’s always bothered me a little—since she’s also easily the smartest of our little bestie group, and with that hawk-eyed gaze of hers, she usually sees things that I don’t.

“No drinking, no gambling, no hooking up.” I rattle them off as quickly as possible and stare at my heels like they’ve got a naked Channing Tatum printed on them.

“WHAT?!” Percy roars. “In Vegas? What’s he even sending you here for?!”

“He might as well have sent you to the morgue.” Sammi blurts out, and I look at her with a furrowed brow. “If you can’t drink, gamble or hook up in Vegas, you may as well be dead.”

I shake my head.

“Alfonso wouldn’t put such restrictions on me. He trusts me,” adds Mysti May, which makes me feel, like, so much fucking better—not.

“Okay,” Percy sighs. “So what can we do?”

I smile weakly at Percy.

“The Royale has a spa,” I say, trying to sound chipper.

Everyone perks up a little bit at that. I’m not sure if they mean it or not, but it helps.

“And…Dan’s left me his black card.”

They all gasp.

“No credit limit?” Mysti May says, eyes as wide as dinner plates.

“And he’s given it…to you,” Sammi says, obviously recalling my shopaholic days.

“Bitchin’,” swears Percy. She points to her top, which is admittedly barely keeping her ample tits restrained. “These titties of mine aren’t getting any smaller. Size sixteen, see you later; hello, size eighteen. Shopping’s on the to-do list.”

Now I have to laugh.

It’s true Percy is nothing like your fucking stick figure models. She’s the complete opposite, but she looks good. Actually, I think she looks fucking hot. And I’ve never met a guy who doesn’t like large tits and something to grab on to.

“And we have Celine Dion tickets for tonight,” I add. “It won’t be as fun as if we were a little shitfaced, but...”

“It’s Celine Dion,” Sammi says, nodding her head. “Good even when you’re sober.”

“And we can have a visit to a day spa and the hairdresser,” adds Mysti May.

“And we’ll shop ‘til we drop,” Percy adds.

Slowly, the gloomy feeling lifts. We can have fucking fun in Vegas. As long as we’re together. Even with the stupid fucking rules set by Dan the Man.

“And best of all…we’ll remember this week. Do you remember some of our wild parties at UCLA?” Percy asks, and we nod.

“The hangovers,” groans Sammi. “I don’t miss those.”

Mysti May shakes her head and giggles. “I think most mornings, I woke up with a set of genitals dangling over my face and no idea who they belonged to.”

I laugh. “There may have even be a few nights I have no fucking idea what happened at all.”

Our limo stops and we get out.

It takes no time at all for us to check in, and then we finally walk into the bridal suite of the Royale.

“Oh my fucking god,” mutters Sammi as she surveys the room. “Compared to the research boat…this is a fucking castle.”

She’s not wrong.

There’s yet another bottle of champagne on ice sitting on the table. Expensive champagne. Royale-level luxury champagne. There are four tall crystal glasses around the ice bucket.

I’ve never wanted to drink anything more in my entire life.

“So…we definitely can’t drink this? Dan the Man’s orders?” Percy holds up the bottle, looking to me with puppy dog eyes.

“We…shouldn’t.” I don’t want to say it. It hurts my soul to turn down champagne this nice. But I’m thinking about those good choices I’m supposed to be making, and Dan’s stern face refuses to leave my mind.

“Becky…darlin’. It’s just one glass. Can it really hurt?”

Mysti May has a point.

“Come on, Becky. It’s your last hurrah before you marry an idiot so boring that his nickname only serves to remind you what gender he is. It’s free. Compliments of the hotel. They’d be offended if we refused.” Sammi looks at me sternly.

Well…she has a point. And if it’s just one glass…

I chuckle. “Okay, okay. I’ll have one glass. But Dan’s not boring, okay? He’s…” I hesitate.

Shit. I try to think of a better adjective, but my mind has gone blank.

“Dull as dog shit,” Sammi finishes for me.

Percy pops the champagne cork and drinks straight from the bottle at exactly the wrong moment. She winds up snorting champagne out through her nose and mouth.

“Sammi,” she protests, “time your fucking jokes when I’m not guzzling.”

Sammi shrugs. “You’re always guzzling. And I wasn’t joking.”

Champagne glasses in hand, we sip as we tour the suite.

“Holy shit,” Percy swears. “The size of this hot tub!”

The thing looks like you could swim laps in it.

Percy grins as she peeks over the edge of its vastness. “Maybe we could find some hot wangs to fill it with.”

I pretend to punch her in the arm. “Rule #3,” I remind her. “No hooking up. I need to make good choices! Picking up men for the hot tub hardly qualifies.”

Percy shrugs. “Depends on the kind of man, doesn’t it?”

We return to the main living area of our apartment. Mysti May is pressing some buttons, and a massive television screen descends from the wall.

“Well, fuck me sideways,” Mysti May breathes in awe, pulling up a digital slot machine on the screen. “We can gamble from the fucking living room.”

“Rule #2,” I groan. “No gambling.”

“Have you seen the bed?” Sammi calls out.

We all thunder into the bedroom.

My jaw drops when I see her sprawled across a double king-size bed. A king-size bed is fucking big. This one is like, three times that size.

We all fall on top of it and roll around giggling like teenagers.

I’ve missed these fucking BFFs of mine. We’ve had the best fucking times together in the past. I sigh.

I hope we’ll have an awesome fucking time leading up to my marriage. I’m still a little disappointed that Dan the Man couldn’t make it, but judging from my friends’ reactions, they’re not going to miss him a bit.

“There’s a spa downstairs,” I say, flipping through a relaxation menu on the bedside table. “How about we start our bridal party with a massage?”

“Well, it’s not drinking,” Sammi says.

“Or gambling,” Mysti May pouts.

“But I can probably fuck one of the masseuses,” Percy grins.

“Bet you fifty bucks you can’t.”

“Do you think they have mimosas?”

What can I say? Old habits die hard.