3. Three

3

THREE

T he Las Vegas strip was one of those places that had taken on a life of its own. You could just say “the strip” and everybody in the city—and well beyond—knew what you were talking about.

It was like Bourbon Street in New Orleans, or Hollywood Boulevard in Los Angeles, or Abbey Road in London. When you said “the strip” people instantly conjured an image in their heads. That image wasn’t always correct, but that part didn’t matter. The strip was an entity … and right now it was giving me a headache of epic proportions.

“You have your ‘I’m about to take a big dump’ face on,” my best friend Tallulah Hayes said as she brought over a fresh drink. She was the head bartender at Purple Zebra Daiquiri Bar at Planet Hollywood. It wasn’t the most high-end bar in the world, but the daiquiris were to die for. Since I’d taken to day drinking in the three days since I’d lost my job, and Tallulah used her employee discount to cover me, it was a win-win situation.

“I don’t have my ‘I’m about to take a big dump’ face on,” I complained. As much as I loved Tallulah, her bluntness often rubbed me the wrong way.

“Yes, you do.” Tallulah was insistent. “Blueberries or corn?”

The question threw me. “I don’t understand the question.”

“Which one did you have? They always force the dump face. I’ve seen it a hundred times.”

I glared at her. “Stop saying ‘dump.’”

She grinned, obviously happy with the reaction she’d elicited. “You’re so funny.”

I sipped my blue daiquiri. It wasn’t blue raspberry—the normal flavor—but a blueberry lemonade. That was vastly preferable. I mean … blue raspberries weren’t even a thing. If I was going to fill myself full of liquor, I wanted organic flavors. There had to be a trade-off of some sort.

“I don’t have to take a dump,” I said. “I’m just … thinking.”

“If you say so.” Tallulah shook her head and topped off my daiquiri. “Your thinking face has a lot in common with your poop face.” She held up her hands when I glared at her. “I’m just making an observation.”

I went back to staring at my daiquiri. My mood had been poor since losing my job. That was to be expected. My response to it was not expected, though. I was a go-getter. The only thing I’d gotten in the past three days, however, was a hangover. Okay, maybe two. I was a lightweight, so three drinks was my limit. It didn’t seem like a productive way to proceed, though.

“I…” Before I could finish what I was going to say, my phone beeped with an incoming text. I immediately reached for it, briefly wondering if Bucky Senior had changed his mind. Deep down, I knew that going back there would be a mistake, but not having a job freaked me out.

The text I found waiting for me from an unknown number shook that idea right out of my head.

Where are you?

I frowned at the text.

“What is it?” Tallulah leaned forward to see what I was looking at. I angled my phone screen so she could get a better look.

“Um … it’s got to be a scammer.”

“It’s a Vegas number.” I pointed toward the 702 code. “Unless they’re spoofing, it’s not someone from Nigeria asking if I want to sponsor a prince.”

Tallulah smirked. “Maybe it’s a wrong number.”

“Maybe.” I cocked my head. “I’ll see who it is.”

Who is this?

Bubbles immediately formed underneath my return text.

Your knight in shining armor.

I snorted at the response.

Oh, yeah? Do you wear armor and everything? My knight in shining armor wears actual armor. He also might wear a sombrero on his penis on tequila nights.

I threw the last part in because I was feeling saucy.

The response was swift.

Whatever turns you on, Livvie.

I froze, all the mirth draining from my features. When I turned the screen to Tallulah, she wasn’t laughing either.

“You don’t know who that is?” she asked finally.

I shook my head.

“Who would know to call you Livvie but not be in your contacts?”

A myriad of ideas flew through my mind. “Do you remember Brad Baker?”

“The serial killer? Yeah. I remember him. He sat next to me in homeroom.”

“Is two dead bodies a serial killer?” I asked, completely changing the tone of the conversation.

She pinned me with an “are you kidding me right now” look.

“Sorry.” My shoulders hopped. “I think you need three or more victims to be a serial killer. I can look it up.”

Tallulah made a disgruntled sound. “Girlfriend, he killed two people and tried to bury them in the desert. Women who turned him down for dates. I think that’s all we need to know about him.”

“Right. I only brought him up because what if it’s a situation like that?”

Tallulah rolled her neck. She was tall, willowy, with auburn hair and bright eyes. She didn’t have much going on up top but her low-cut shirts and cutlet padding allowed her to pretend otherwise. “Um … now you’re freaking me out.”

I was freaking myself out. Normally, she would be the one talking me off a ledge. Apparently, that wasn’t happening today. “What should I do?”

She took the phone from me, bopped her head back and forth, then started typing.

I’m at the Purple Zebra.

My mouth dropped open when I realized she’d sent our real location. “You’re telling the serial killer where we’re at? What in the hell?”

The return text was swift.

I’m on my way.

My heart started to hammer, and I was no longer interested in drinking my daiquiri. “You just sealed my doom.” I wailed it a little louder than was probably necessary.

“Or I arranged it so your serial killer will have a big helping of ‘I’m gonna beat your ass.’” She gestured toward the security guard—who was the size of three regular people—loitering toward the door. “Odds are it’s someone you know,” she said. “Maybe Rex lost his phone or something.”

I immediately started shaking my head. “It’s not like the old days when you have to change your phone number whenever you get a new phone. Rex has had the same number since high school.”

“Maybe he had to change it because he slept with the wrong bimbo and she’s threatening to chop up his bunny.”

I couldn’t wrap my head around what she was saying. “What bunny?”

“Haven’t you ever seen Fatal Attraction ?”

“That television show with Joshua Jackson? I tried watching it, but I was bored.”

Tallulah made a huffing sound. “Not that stupid show. The movie. The woman in it loses her shit and boils a bunny. Your brother seems like the sort of guy who would push a woman to bunny boiling.”

My immediate reaction was to laugh off the suggestion. When I thought about it, though, she had a point. “It’s not Rex.” I was certain of that. Okay, mostly certain.

“Then maybe it’s a former classmate or something who assumes you have their number stored in your phone.” Tallulah was using her most reasonable tone. “Didn’t you say Kayla Barton contacted you six months ago to see if you wanted to hang out with her?”

“I’m pretty sure she was trying to get close to Rex. The second I agreed to have lunch with her, she brought him up … and then never stopped talking about him.”

“Yes, it was a bitch move,” Tallulah agreed. “Like … the ultimate bitch move. Maybe she hasn’t given up.”

“Maybe.” I glanced around. The daiquiri bar was open to the street. Just anybody could walk up. “Maybe I should go.”

“And leave me with the serial killer?” Tallulah vehemently shook her head. “It’s not happening. You’re safe here. Biff over there will totally start taking off heads if it’s necessary.”

I glanced at the guard again. “Is his name really Biff?”

“I have no idea. It fits, though.”

“Totally.”

THIRTY MINUTES LATER, I’D FINISHED MY daiquiri and had almost forgotten about our incoming guest. Almost, but not quite. My nerves were no longer fraying at the seams, however, so I took that as a good sign.

“Maybe he saw you and decided you look like too much work,” Tallulah said when I handed her my empty cup.

“That doesn’t actually make me feel better,” I said to her. “I mean … if a serial killer looks at you and says ‘way too much effort’, what does that say about me?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. I’d like to be too much work for a serial killer. In fact…” She trailed off, something behind me catching her eye.

When I shifted, the first thing that swam into view were three tourists taking photos of themselves in front of the bar’s neon flamingos. Once they moved to the left, however, I saw exactly who had garnered Tallulah’s sudden reverence.

Zach Stone. The object of my teenage obsession. He stood on the sidewalk, phone in hand, and grinned when he saw me.

“It’s him?” I said dumbly.

“It kind of makes sense,” Tallulah offered. “He would’ve gotten your number from Rex.”

“Why, though?” That was the part I couldn’t wrap my head around. “I mean … seriously … why?”

“I think you’re about to find out.” Tallulah sat up straighter and grinned at Zach. “Well, well, well. Look who it is.”

Zach offered up a friendly smile for Tallulah’s benefit. “Hey. I remember you. I believe you and Shorty here were joined at the hip back in high school.”

“Some friendships never die,” Tallulah agreed. “Some are ride or die, too.”

“Which one do you guys have?” Zach asked, his eyes sparking with amusement.

“Both.” Tallulah tapped the counter as Zach sat down next to me. “What will it be?”

“What do you recommend?”

“A higher class of bar.”

Zach barked out a laugh. “I’ll take whatever she’s having.” He inclined his head toward my empty glass.

“Blue lemonade it is.” Tallulah bobbed her head and then disappeared toward the far end of the bar.

“How are you?” Zach asked as he looked me up and down. There was something intense about the way he was eyeing me, and it made me feel self-conscious.

“Unemployed,” I replied. It seemed like the easiest way to explain my unfortunate cargo capris and wrinkled black T-shirt. “How is the great Stone hope?”

Rather than laugh, Zach grimaced. “That’s kind of why I’m here.”

It was so not the reaction I was expecting from him. “How did you get my number?” I asked when Tallulah returned with drinks for both of us. The last thing I needed was another daiquiri, but my hands were desperate for something to hold on to.

“Where do you think?” Zach’s eyes crinkled at the corners and he took a sip. “Wow. This is complete sugar.”

“You don’t have to drink it,” I said.

“It seems wrong to go to a bar and not have a drink.”

“You could just tell me what you want,” I prodded. Something occurred to me out of the blue. “Wait … nothing happened to Rex, did it?” I’d never really worried about him despite his position. “He wasn’t hurt, was he?” I moved to stand.

Zach reached over to rest his hand on my wrist. “He’s fine. Last time I saw him, which was about an hour ago, he was leering at the newest cocktail waitress.”

I let out the breath I’d been holding. “That sounds like him.”

“Yes, your brother isn’t discriminating. He’s perfectly happy to hit on anybody in sequins.”

“Yes, I remember that time he got to meet Cher.”

Zach barked out a laugh. “You’re funny. I forgot how funny you were, Squirt. That might bode well for what I’m about to propose.”

I was instantly alert. Zach had never proposed anything other than mischief with my brother as far as I was aware. Why would he possibly be proposing anything to me? Unless… “My brother told you I lost my job, didn’t he?” I was resigned to embarrassment. “If you’re about to offer me a job counting chips behind the cage, I appreciate it, but I’m not that hard up.”

Yet, I silently added. I’m not there yet. I might get to that point, though.

“Actually, that’s not what I was proposing.” Zach looked up and leveled Tallulah with a pointed stare. “I don’t suppose you could leave us alone, could you? This is a delicate topic.”

Tallulah narrowed her eyes. “You haven’t turned into a serial killer since high school, have you?”

Zach looked taken aback. “Um … not last time I checked.”

“Okay.” She pointed toward the guard. “If you make one wrong move, if I even catch a whiff that you have a human teeth collection, I’ll have him eat you for lunch and spit you out.”

Zach stared at the guard for a moment, then grinned. “Thanks for the warning.” He watched my friend leave, indignation causing her hips to swing, and he was still smiling when he looked back at me. “I haven’t seen her in forever. She grew up…”

“Hot?” I volunteered.

“I was going to say feisty.”

“Most people say hot.”

“Well, I’m not most people.” He largely ignored his daiquiri and tapped his fingers on the bar. It was obvious he was nervous. What I couldn’t figure out was why.

“Why don’t you just tell me what you want,” I suggested. “Then I can turn you down, and we’ll call it a day.”

“How do you know you’re going to turn me down?”

“Because I hate you. You’re mean to me.”

He had the gall to look wounded. “When was I ever mean to you?”

“Um, all the time. You called me names.”

“Terms of endearment,” he corrected.

“You made it so my brother was mean to me. He didn’t think he would look cool in your eyes if he liked his little sister because you hated your sisters.”

“Your brother didn’t need my input to be a jackass. That’s simply who he was.”

“Only around you.”

“Well…” Zach seemed to catch himself and regroup. “I have a proposition for you.”

“I thought it was a proposal,” I teased. The daiquiris were obviously getting to me because I was starting to feel that floaty feeling that always signaled doom.

“It is a proposal of sorts,” he confirmed. He took another drink of his daiquiri, although he didn’t look fond of it. “I think we should get married.”

I blinked. Then I blinked again. Then I shoved the daiquiri away from me. I was obviously hammered to think he’d said what I thought he’d said. “What?”

He laughed at my response, his hand going to the back of his neck to rub. “Man, why am I so sweaty? This is weird.”

“You’re high is what you are,” I fired back. “There’s no way I’m marrying you. Why would you even suggest that?”

“It wouldn’t be a real marriage.”

That was both a relief and a kick to the gut. I managed to hold it together anyway. “Why would I want to fake marry you?”

“Because we both need something.”

“And what do I need?” The question came out before I realized how filthy it likely sounded. His flirty grin told me he hadn’t missed it. “Don’t.” I extended a warning finger.

Zach wrapped his hand around it and looked deep into my eyes. “You need insurance for your dental work. The Stone Group happens to have the best insurance in the city.”

The molar that had been aching seconds before did a cartwheel of excitement, and I cringed. “My brother told you that?” I was going to kill him. My dental work—something I was sensitive about for reasons even I couldn’t explain—was my business. It wasn’t Zach’s business.

“He brought it up after a meeting I had with my father.”

“What sort of meeting?”

Zach took a deep breath. “Apparently, I’m the family screwup.”

“I can see that,” I said, not missing a beat.

He made a face. “My father is insisting that I date appropriate women. Now, I’m not sure what that’s supposed to mean, but I’m fairly certain that showgirls are off the menu.”

I snorted. “How is that my fault?”

“I’m not in the mood to date. I’m trying to figure certain things out. My father isn’t going to get off my case unless I bring home a respectable woman.”

“And that’s me?” How could he be so nonchalant about this?

“Yup.”

“Um … I don’t want to be your respectable woman.”

“And I’m not suggesting a true marriage.”

For some reason, the way he phrased it bugged me. “Just sex and cake?” I assumed.

He smirked. “Just your presence at a few Stone Group parties and your signature on a piece of paper.”

“Why would you possibly want that?”

“That’s just it. I don’t know what I want. My father is trying to box me into a corner before I’m ready to commit to something, and I need a bit of breathing room.”

“And that’s what I am? Breathing room?” That was possibly very offensive. Or maybe it was a compliment. I actually couldn’t tell.

“I’ve known you forever. There’s nothing romantic between us. My father might be surprised but won’t question it if I say we got married.”

“How do you figure I’m an ‘appropriate’ partner?” I used air quotes so he wouldn’t be confused.

“You’ve always had your shit together, Livvie. I’m best friends with your brother. You can use my insurance to have whatever you want done with your teeth.” He cocked his head. “They look fine to me, though.”

My hand immediately went to my cheek, to where the molar ached. “Don’t worry about my teeth.”

“It’s just an arrangement,” Zach said. “It benefits us both. My father will get off my case … at least a little … and you won’t have to worry about suddenly becoming homeless.”

I shook my head. “This is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Maybe so, but we both have something the other needs. I just want you to consider it.”

I didn’t have to consider it long. “Absolutely not. No way. No how. Nothing doing. There’s nothing in the world that could ever convince me to marry you.”

And just like that, I’d thrown down the gauntlet. The challenge in his eyes told me he was nowhere near done.

Uh-oh. This was not going to be good.