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RAE
“Ican go get what’s left of my dress if you need something to throw up on,” I offer as Annie braces herself against a waist-high flower bed on the Strip.
“I’m good. Just need a second.” Behind the oversized aviators, it’s impossible to see the dark circles under her eyes.
“How much did you guys drink last night?” Callie demands, her voice cutting through the pop music wafting from invisible speakers.
Elle spreads her arms wide. “We drank it all.”
My cousin arrived shortly after Harrison left. I had to explain that I’m supposed to be getting married tomorrow but my fiancé is gone, my dress is ruined, and my dog is sick.
“Last night was messy,” Annie admits as we continue down the street, the afternoon heat baking our skin. “I might have said something to Harrison.”
I push my glasses up on my head. “Seriously? What?”
“That he should chill.” She grimaces. “He was pretty freaked out.”
“What did you expect? For him to say, ‘Sorry, sweetheart, I’m an overbearing prick who’s wound tight enough he should never be allowed to drink caffeine, but I’ll never overstep again’?” Elle’s impression is too close for comfort.
“Is he wrong about security?” Callie prompts. “I’m not the Brit’s biggest fan, but this is your life now. I’ve seen awful things happen to good people, and if trained personnel can prevent it, I’m all for it. Especially if the person in question is my cousin.”
“It was good to have the backup when Mischa was still in the picture,” I admit. “And a few times since, it’s been helpful when a crowd gets out of control after a show outside a venue.”
“You know we’ll support you no matter what,” Annie says, squeezing my arm.
“Thanks.”
My phone buzzes, and I glance at it in case it’s Harrison.
“Not him,” I say at the girls’ looks. “This time it is proofs from the photoshoot,” I tell Annie.
When I start to tuck the phone away, Elle reaches for it. “No, let’s see!”
I pull open the email, and we huddle around the images.
The woman looking out from in front of the camera is confident, cool, edgy. She’s familiar and remote at once.
“Those are amazing, Rae!” Callie says. “You’re going to inspire so many little girls.”
“I’m not that woman.”
“Yeah, you are. You’re her and you’re you.”
“We all play different parts all day long,” Annie points out.
Maybe they’re right.
I’m an artist and a basket case.
I’m famous and I’m nobody.
I’m normal and I’m not.
Just like Harrison.
The realization lifts a weight from my shoulders.
“You have your friends. And the man. What more do you need to pull off a Vegas wedding?” Callie prompts.
