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She emerges from the bathroom, dressed in a casual outfit, holding the keys to her mom's mini-van. "I borrowed these. Let's go."
My lips curl into an involuntary smile. She's way ahead of me, and I love that about her. I nod and slip into my shoes.
She slides into her hot-pink Converse high-tops. Daphne isn't girly in many conventional ways—she doesn't wear much makeup or follow fashion or paint her nails—but she loves hot pink.
Another thing she shares with my sister.
Shit. My family.
That's another urgent matter.
"Let me check something before we go." I find my phone on the table and shoot my sister a text.
Jackson: Do Zack and Laurel know?
She replies right away.
Cassie: I think everyone in the states of California and Nevada knows, J. The two of you are this close to going viral. Do me a favor and post your next Reel with one of Bryce's new songs. I could use the exposure.
Jackson: Glad you're thinking of me.
Cassie: I haven't heard from them, but I'm sure they've seen it.
Jackson: Do you know where they are?
Cassie: I can find out. Give me one minute.
Daphne looks at me funny. "Can we take this on the road?"
"Checking on our friends," I say. "I want to make sure they won't surprise us."
"The best way to beat them is with preparation"—she holds up a small duffel bag—"enough to stay somewhere else tonight. Or drive back home and beg Cassie and Damon to pack the room and rent a car."
That's a dramatic move. Not one I'd make, but a smart one. Usually, I bristle at sudden changes, especially when they're someone else's idea, but I trust her here.
"Speed helps too—" She raises a brow and motionslet's go.
"Do you have clothes for me in there?" I ask.
"Why would you need those?" She smiles. "Yes. I packed an outfit and a swimsuit and condoms. Come on. Let's live dangerously." There's confidence on her face. And there's something else too. Another dare I want to answer.
It's nothave sex in publicormarry mebut it's something.
Not trying to avoid my brother and sister's commentary—
That's stranger than public sex.
Far stranger.
I take her hand, and I follow her to the hallway, the elevator, anywhere she wants to take me.
After a ten-minute drive,the forced glamor of Las Vegas fades into everyday suburbs. We park in the massive lot of a strip mall, walk into the nondescript Thai restaurant, find a spot that could be in any city in the country. Framed photos of rice patties, teal booths, white chairs, and gold Buddha statues.
We're no longer in Sin City.
We're in Everytown, USA.
Or at least some place a lot like home. (Well, less expensive and new money than home).
