Roxy strolled into the atrium of the Imprint Hotel at around eight. Her shoes tapped on the marble floors. Her flared mini-skirt swished at her knees as she passed a seating area fit for a 1930’s prohibition sit-down.
Pink walls and dark cherry ceiling panels. Floral drapes behind the check-in desk. Brown camelback sofas and chaise lounges all around the room, plus leather chairs and mahogany side tables.
“You made it!” High heels clattered as Sarina flew at Roxy.
“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” Although, an hour ago she was thinking about missing it because she didn’t want to wear shoes or a bra. #bestfriendproblems
“Thank God.” Sarina wrapped her hand around the crook of Roxy’s arm. “Cliff brought his friends.”
His friends? He didn’t have many friends, just… ugh. “The jackasses from college?”
Sarina nodded. Fantastic. Dancing in a loud, over-crowded room with a bunch of strangers while Sarina chased after her boy-toy. Great news.
Sarina dragged her to the other side of the atrium, where two he-men in dark suits stood guard at a door. They moved to the side and opened the door.
The inside of the club was dark. The music thumped through Roxy’s body as a DJ mixed two beat lines, segueing into the next song. She angled through the crowd, hanging onto Sabrina’s hand until they hit a leather booth in the back. A booth with a bunch of bubbly twenty-somethings wearing sashes and sucking down shots without the use of their arms.
“Where is he?” Sarina yelled over the bass as she spun her head around like it was on swivel. Given the “he”, Roxy could bet Cliff was missing.
“Maybe he ran to the bathroom,” Roxy yelled back.
“I can’t find his friends either.” Sarina’s eyes flamed. “I told him no drugs tonight.”
“Is that normally a problem?” Adding drug use to Cliff’s list of undesirable qualities left him with few desirable qualities, except that he was hot and he made amazing pancakes. Roxy could vouch for the hot. She had to take Sarina’s word on the pancakes.
“No. He doesn’t normally do drugs, but…”
The old college friends. They weren’t from Vegas, so they were the poster-men for not handling their Vegas. “But if he’s in the bathroom…” Roxy locked eyes with Sarina. They both knew what a group of guys in a bathroom meant, and it wasn’t fluffing their hair and applying lipstick.
“Why don’t we go get drinks?” Roxy asked, looking around. Bodies gyrated on the dance floor. People surrounded tables and chatted over the hard rock beat. More people stood in lines to get booze.
Sarina shook her head. “I’m going to walk around a bit. Try to find him. Can you grab me a wine spritzer and I’ll meet you back here?” Sarina disappeared through the crowd before Roxy could reply.
Roxy headed in the opposite direction and found the bar. At least, she thought it was the bar. It was hard to see with the wall of people standing around it. She waited, slowly moving to the front of the line as she watched for Sarina to come back.
“Hey, baby.” A man with slicked back hair and a creepazoid mustache leaned into her. “Can I buy you a drink?”
“No, thanks.” She smiled, but she had a feeling it came out more like a cringe. It didn’t scare off slicky-dude, though.
“Come on, baby. One drink.”
“No. Thanks.” She moved forward, trying to inch away.
“It’s Vegas, doll. You don’t have to be frigid.” His breath scurried along the side of her face. Although, that might have just been her skin crawling. “It’s party city.”
“I’m waiting for my boyfriend. He likes to buy my drinks.” She angled herself closer to the bar and tighter into the gaggle of people, blocking her slick new friend from getting closer.
He elbowed the girl next to her and scooched in. “What he don’t know won’t hurt him.”
That breath was on her face again.
“I have mace and I’m not afraid to use it.” Not exactly a lie. She had mace. It was in her purse. At home. But she’d gladly fight traffic to go get the darn thing and return to use it on this guy.
“Bitch.” He turned to the woman he’d elbowed. “Hey, baby. Can I buy you a drink?” Roxy moved to the bar. “Can I get two white wine spritzers?”
The woman behind the bar grabbed two glasses and poured the white wine and sparkling water, adding a bit of lemon peel and a cherry to both drinks. “Thirty dollars.”
Roxy paid for the drinks—almost crying since she could buy a few bottles of wine for thirty dollars instead of two half-filled glasses of frou-frou. She removed the lemon peel—yuck—and took a sip. This thing was pretty darn tasty. This wasn’t the liter-jug wine she kept on hand when she was channeling Sex in the City.
Sarina parted the crowd like a Kardashian. “Let’s go.” She snatched the drink from Roxy’s hand and downed the contents. “I’m ready to go.”
Roxy jogged after Sarina toward the front entrance, trying to keep the expensive, delicious drink she was carrying from taking a header onto the dance floor. If ever she wished for a beverage doggie bag, it was definitely right now.
They made their way out of the dark club and into the atrium. People sat around, milling and talking. Roxy took a sip from her glass. Still tasty. “What was that all about?”
“Cliff is a—a jerk,” Sarina spat.
“What happened? Drugs?”
“I wish. Blow job.”
“Getting or giving?” Both options were bad when talking about one’s boyfriend.
Sarina laughed and then hiccupped. She’d be crying soon. Poor girl. “I suppose things could be worse. He was getting it from some skank.”
Skank? That was the equivalent to swearing in Sarina’s world. She must be mad.
“I’m so sorry, sweetie.” Roxy wrapped an arm around her best friend just as Cliff yelled for Sarina from the door to the club.
Fire burned in Sarina’s eyes as she turned to face him. “Go away.”
“Wait. Give me a chance to explain.” His blond hair recently finger-combed. His boyish good looks marred by the concern on his face. That was what happened when you let a skank run their fingers through your hair. Definitely a “The More You Know” moment.
Sarina crossed her arms. “I don’t want to hear it.”
Was there really a plausible explanation for why another woman’s mouth was on your man’s junk? She had a tickle in her throat, and I was scratching it. My lungs collapsed, and she was trying to blow them back up. Hopefully, he wasn’t dumb enough to try that one.
“I was confused. I thought it was you.” He should have gone with the collapsed lung. Idiot.
“Just go. Please.” Sarina’s voice was flat with resignation. The please was a nice touch. Always polite. Well, at least Sarina was.
Roxy? Not so much. “Why don’t you take your crab-infested slut stick far, far away?” Roxy stood in front of Sarina. He would get access to her best friend when Roxy’s hands were cold and lifeless. “Go home. Take a few rounds of antibiotics and clear up whatever you just contracted.”
“We’re done.” Sarina leaned over Roxy and took the spritzer before gulping it down. “That’s really tasty.”
Cliff slunk away, his head down, his shame following him like slug slime. Roxy would feel bad for him but… Nah. Her best friend had just downed two fifteen-dollar spritzers like a shot of cheap bourbon, and their very public, very loud production seemed to be entertaining the gawking guests.
“We should go.” Roxy glared at the spectators.
“No. I can’t leave Doug, and Cliff will not ruin my job.” Sabrina’s lip pushed out and she looked about ready to cry.
“Fine.” Roxy couldn’t say no, not to her best friend, not after everything that happened with Cliff. She moved toward the club, but a red tuft of hair stopped her. The leprechaun, Donnie Dunne, sat on one of the couches. He wasn’t wearing green, so his leprechaun power was diminished.
Roxy pulled Sarina back a few feet and whispered, “That’s him.”
“Who?”
“Donnie Dunne. My summons.” Roxy tried not to watch him too closely. She had to play it cool. If he knew she was looking for him, he’d run—and she’d finally tracked him down. She wasn’t losing him now. “Can you get the summons from my car?”
“Now?” Sarina flinched, but she knew the timeline. “Can’t you go?”
“I’m not letting him out of my sight.” Roxy was inches away from sitting on his lap to keep him in place. There was no way she could leave him here alone.
“I’ll go, but then you owe me a drink.”
“I bought the last drink.”
Sarina tilted her head and stared. Delivering this summons was well worth the fifteen bucks plus tip.
“Fine.” Roxy handed over her keys and leaned against another set of couches.
Sarina disappeared as Roxy pretend-studied her nails instead of outright staring at Donnie.
“Find something interesting, Horne?”
She jumped at a man’s familiar voice. Rafe. “Are you stalking me?”
“I was going to ask you the same thing. You’ve showed up at my hotels twice in the same day.”
“You work for this one too?”
“I work for a lot of hotels. Crowd control, defensive tactics, training, keeping people safe. What are you doing here?”
“Club.”
His eyes drifted up and down her body, making her pulse throb—other body parts were throbbing too—from one look. To be fair, that one look could start forest fires. “You’re wasting that outfit on the morons in there?”
“Do you have a better place for me to wear this?”
“I can come up with a few.” He rubbed his thumb along his lower lip and smiled.
Holy crap. Where did men learn to do that? That smoldering grin combined with big manly hands…dead. She was going to drop right here.
“Are you alone?” he asked.
“No. My friend is with me.” The friend who was grabbing the summons. The summons Rafe said she wasn’t allowed to serve. “So, I’ll see you later.” She looked over at the flapping red hair as Donnie stood.
Rafe shook his head. “Stay away from him.”
Her discretion must have been on the fritz. “From who?” She tried to play dumb, batting her eyelashes. It rarely worked on cops trying to give her a ticket. It wasn’t working here.
“Dunne. He’s a customer of this hotel. You can’t go near him.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it.” She motioned to her clothing. “Do I look like I’m dressed to chase after some guy? My friend and I came here to dance.”
Sarina stumbled into the atrium, her breath stuttering. She must have run. In heels. A for effort. “Do you know how far the parking garage is—”
“Sarina.” Roxy cut her off before she could say something that would get them in trouble, or worse, thrown out of the hotel. Sarina wasn’t holding an envelope, which didn’t bode well. If Roxy accidentally left the paperwork at home, she’d lose her shit. “Do you remember Rafe Amato? He was the quarterback at Vegas University.”
Vegas rich kids didn’t associate with public school riffraff unless said riffraff were part of the popular crowd. Roxy and Sarina were so far removed from the popular crowd, they were their own crowd.
That didn’t stop them from showing up at a party at Rafe’s house one night sophomore year. It wasn’t the first time Roxy had seen Rafe, but it was the last time she tried to get noticed. When you hear a guy actively disavowing a relationship with you after you’ve spent the night together, you tend to lose interest.
Sarina must have forgotten the history. The drool practically hung from her open mouth.
“Nice to meet you.” Rafe went to shake her hand, but her arm didn’t move.
Sarina still had that stunned look on her face and then she lifted her hand. “You brought me a beer.”
“What?”
“At that party.” Sarina’s mouth had somehow found a way to close and the drool appeared to be gone.
“That was the party after we beat Colorado College.” He obviously remembered.
She was surprised. It was the night they’d met. One of the few times their social circles had happened to cross. The fact he remembered that night said something. She wasn’t quite sure what it said… Sarina had talked Roxy into going to that party on a fact-finding mission. Long story that led to Sarina getting suspended. It was also the party that led to Rafe and years of unrequited-lust-slash-disgust. Not that she wanted to think about any of this right now.
“And you scored the winning touchdown,” Sarina said, still looking stunned.
“Well, this has been fun, but we should run to the bathroom and head back to the club.” Roxy looped her arm through Sarina’s and dragged her toward the women’s washroom. Rafe stood in the center of the room with his arms folded.
Roxy saw the little leprechaun slink from the couches toward the washrooms. Except instead of turning into the opening, he went to the elevators.
Bingo.
With one final wave, she tugged Sarina into the little recess near the women’s washroom door. Roxy shifted far enough so Rafe couldn’t see her.
“What are we doing?” Sarina asked.
“Rafe said we couldn’t serve the papers in the hotel. We can’t let him see us.” Roxy watched as Donnie pressed the up button and got inside the elevator. The lighted numbers stopped at the forty-fourth floor. “Do you have the summons?”
“It’s in my bra with my phone.” Sarina slid a folded envelope from her chest-purse.
Roxy crooked her head around the wall to see if Rafe was still there. He was. Thankfully, he was talking to another employee and didn’t appear to see her head pop out. She needed to lose her tail. “We’ll head over to the club and then, once we lose Rafe, we’re going to find Donnie’s room.”
“Do we have to lose Rafe?” Sarina pouted. “He’s cute and I’ve had a bad day. I can watch you flirt.”
“He’s stopping me from getting my man. So, yeah, we need to lose him. Ready?”
“Yeah.” Sarina stepped out of the doorway. “But I don’t see why you don’t want that man. Is it the thing in college?”
Of course it was. “No. I’d forgotten we even knew him in college. It’s because that man’s questionable stance on process-serving in his hotels doesn’t mesh with me keeping my job.”
Her gaze found Rafe as they headed for the club. His arms were still crossed over his broad chest. The arrogance on his face should have been a turn off, but he still looked pretty darn edible. But that could be because his arrogance was completely misplaced. He thought he’d won.
Silly man.
“Sarina.” He tipped his head as they passed him. “See you around, Horne.”
“You too, Amato.”
They clicked-clacked along the marble floor, and Sarina grinned like a teenager with a fake ID. “Let’s grab another drink while we wait.”
Roxy checked. Rafe still stood there. It might be awhile before she could get upstairs.
“Yeah. Let’s get a drink.”