When I see Jen and Vivian in the booth already, my optimism for a fast breakfast meeting diminishes. Then when I see Carly stumble to the booth, ragged and hungover, all hope is lost.
“Good lord, what happened to you?” Jen asks Carly as we both slide into the booth. I feel for her, but I’m glad those questions aren’t aimed in my direction.
Carly takes a small sip of the water in front of her and then lays her head back on the cushion of the booth, looking up at the ceiling. “Royce took me around town and my liver may never recover,” she says.
“How did this happen?” Vivian asks. “We called several times after dinner, no one ever answered. I thought you were going to a show.”
Carly turns her head to me, pleading with me to step in, but I remain quiet. I don’t have a lie to cover the evening for the both of us, so I let her flail in the wind on her own. When I say nothing, Carly throws me to the wolves.
“We were, but Campbell ditched me. I was by myself at the hotel bar when Royce found me. We just hung out. We had fun. I wouldn’t mind spending more time with him. I don’t see why you hate him so much,” she tells Jen.
Aaaannd the atomic bomb detonates and the mushroom cloud now hovers above Jen’s head.
“Royce! Hung out with Royce!” Jen squeals, her voice taking on a decibel level that only dogs could decipher. She then turns her narrowed eyes to me. “This is your fault. If you guys had gone to the show like you were supposed to, she never would have been pulled into his man-whore trap. What in the world was so important that you abandoned Carly and possibly exposed her to a life of a rock star tramp?”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Vivian interrupts. “Jen, you need to settle down a tad. Carly is a big girl and can spend time with whomever she wants. Campbell doesn’t need to babysit her.”
“It was fine, Jen,” Carly chimes in. “We had a good time and he was a perfect gentleman. If anything, I was mean to him and hurt his feelings, which was entirely unwarranted.”
Jen huffs and takes a drink of her orange juice. “Don’t sweat it; that man has no feelings.”
“Be nice, Jen, he may prove you wrong someday and you don’t eat crow very well,” Vivian warns.
“Yeah, and I fart rainbows and ride on unicorns,” Jen jokes sarcastically. She turns to Carly and points her finger at her in a stern manner that demands attention. “Let’s just not let this little friendship be a regular occurrence. That man will do nothing but string you along and break your heart. I’ve seen him do it tons of times, and I refuse to let him treat one of my friends that way.”
Carly throws her hands up in surrender. I think more from lack of energy from her hangover, than her being convinced of Royce’s negative attributes. She is appeasing her, so the conversation can shift in a different direction, and I don’t blame her one bit.
If I thought it would help with Jen’s opinion of him, I might have stepped in and spoke up for Royce, but I know better. Actions speak louder than words with Jen, and he has shown her no reason to believe in his virtue.
I’ve known Royce longer than Jen has, and yes, he flings himself from meaningless interlude to the next while on the road. I don’t think the man has ever had an actual girlfriend. He’s a big kid who finds humor in the most immature and ridiculous situations; he can be absolutely infuriating.
However, there is a side to him that Jen has never seen. He can be the sweetest guy with a huge heart, who would help anyone he could. Most of the money he’s made he’s given to his family, but Jen doesn’t want to hear any of that. To her, he’ll always be the front man of Absolution who can’t keep it in his pants.
“What exactly did you do last night?” Vivian inquires, interrupting my thoughts.
I try to stall, so when a waitress comes by, I grab her and ask for a menu. She politely tells me it’s a buffet and I can just go get whatever I would like, but if I have a special drink order, she could take care of it for me. Great, now I look like I’m stalling.
“You said it was soooo important. What could be more important that Cirque du Soleil?” Carly adds.
I take a drink of my water and blurt out the first thing that comes to mind.
“I ate something that upset my stomach and had diarrhea. I didn’t want to be stuck in a show when another round hit me,” I explain. Judging from the looks on their faces, I picked a winner. Nothing like a fecal incident to halt a conversation immediately.
“I guarantee there were no rainbows being shit in that bathroom,” Jen laughs, which earns a harsh look from Vivian and a mild slap on the arm.
“Are you feeling better?” Vivian asks concerned.
“I’m fine,” I say.
“Thank you for not including me,” Carly adds. “You can ditch me any time, if loose bowels are the cause. I’m glad you’re feeling better, though. We have a big night, beer poos are not allowed.”
Jen rolls her eyes and laughs. “We are in Vegas and there are no kids in the near vicinity, cussing is allowed, Car. Beer shits, the terms is called beer shits.”
Jen then turns back to me. “But she is right, no beer shits allowed.”
I nod and hold up my two fingers for the Boy’s Scout’s pledge.
Everyone laughs, and just like that, the tension at the table evaporates. We are once again four friends, four sisters who are here to enjoy each other. Complications and drama of home, forgotten. Men, relationships, kids, jobs, everything put on hold in order to enjoy the moment. Enjoy each other.
“So what’s on the agenda?” I ask.
“Shopping, the pool, sleeping, and then primping for a night on the town,” Jen says excitedly. “Vegas will never be the same when we get done with it. Tonight will be epic!”
The three of us look to each other and then to Jen. Excitement, worry, apprehension, all passing between us.
“We better start scraping together bail money now,” Carly announces under her breath. Jen stares at her, thinking momentarily before a huge grin splits across her face.
“You bet your sweet ass!”
Royce
After buttoning up my dress shirt, styling my mop of a hairstyle, and spraying my favorite cologne, I spend the next five minutes waiting for the guys and staring at the text Carly sent me this morning.
“I’m sorry,” one of the most powerful phrases in the human language. With two simple words, the wounds she inflicted have begun to heal. She pissed me off royally this morning, but after having a deep conversation with my Sally doll, I’ve come to realize she just reacted poorly to an uncompromising situation.
A pounding on my door breaks the silence in my room, and I hustle to answer it.
“Are you ready to tear shit up tonight?” our drummer, John, asks as the rest of the guys filter into my room. I stuff my wallet and phone into my pocket and tuck Sally under my arm.
“Is that really a question you need to ask?” I ask them with a huff.
Casen pulls the blow up doll out of my grasp. “I can’t, dude. No way. You cannot bring this thing along. The girls will be going with us, and I know Jen will have a fucking fit.”
I laugh and pull the doll away from him. “All the more reason to bring her along,” I say before marching out of the hotel room to the elevators. The footsteps behind me and the door closing tell me the resistance is over; Sally has officially become our party mascot. I at least thought ahead enough to dress her in a tasteful outfit for the evening.
The metal doors open and we all step into the elevator. “Jen is seriously going to kill you,” John whispers to me as we take the ride to the lobby. I ignore his warning, although I know he’s absolutely right; I need to prepare for battle.