I cruise around the next bend and have to slam on the brakes. Smoke curls from the squealing tires. I clench my teeth as I stop within an inch of the Maserati.
“Are you fuckin’ kidding me?” I yell out to the dry desert air.
Johnno on the two-way radio directs all cars to stop in the next waiting bay about a mile up the road.
When we pull over to the side of the road, I swear steam is shooting from my ears as I contemplate exactly how I’m gonna make Brett a new hat with his freshly cut scrotum.
“Who the fuck stops on a turn like that in a normal car, let alone a fuckin’ car like that?” I screech as I storm towards Brett. “Are you tapped in the head?”
“Relax, Rocco,” he says, and runs his fingers across the rim of his black baseball cap.
“Relax? Not fuckin’ likely,” I spit at him as I take another step closer. Jones leaps out of nowhere and presses his hand to my chest.
“You ride with me,” Jones says, widening his eyes. He’s not asking; he’s telling.
Terri struts up to Brett and stands toe to toe with him. She is about ready to tear shreds through him by the look of her flushed face and chest, which is labouring to take breath.
“A word?” she says, her jaw tight.
Jones grips my shoulder, turning me towards the Ferrari.
“Your fuckin’ mate,” I grumble as I get into the passenger side of the car.
We both turn and stand in awe as the expletives pour from Terri’s mouth like lava erupting from an angry volcano. Brett cowers like a frightened animal, and then gets into the passenger seat of the rear car with Johnno. Suck shit. Your ride is over.
“My mate, huh?” Jones says, and laughs. His face lights up as he curls his fingers around the steering wheel, stroking it as he would his girlfriend. He turns to face me with a smile that’s trouble. “With any luck we lose him to a transvestite hooker on the strip tonight.”
“Poor hooker.” I chuckle, as we take off into the bowels of the desert again.
CHAPTER THIRTY
SOPHIE
I place two hundred–dollars in purple chips on number thirteen on the roulette table. This is all I’m gambling this weekend. The rest of the planned events I’ve carefully budgeted for. I won’t be drinking a huge amount, not that I care, because I feel like I owe it to Rocco to take it easy, and there’ll be no fine dining. Not that I think that’s the plan, anyway. It’s not that hard to eat cheap here.
“Soph,” April shrieks. “Thirteen!”
“What?”
April points at the wheel, which has the white ball resting on my number.
“Oh my fucking God! I won?”
“Can you refrain from swearing at the table please, ma’am,” the balding croupier says in his very thick American accent, as he runs a hand down the front of his black vest. I’m still getting used to not hearing an Aussie accent come out of people’s mouths.
“Sorry, I’m just … I never win.” I squeal and wrap my arm around April’s shoulders as the croupier places a clear glass object on my chips. He clears the bulk of chips from the rest of the numbered felt, pushing them into a hole on the far side of the wheel.
Carefully, he pushes a small chip stack to a player on the opposite side of the table to me, and then assembles a few tall piles of purple chips, with several black chips sitting on top. My eyes light up as he pushes this goldmine in my direction.
“Sorry. How much is that?”
“Seven thousand neat.”
I clutch at my chest as it hammers faster. I can’t believe I won.
“I never win anything,” I gush.
“Number thirteen. Unlucky for some; tonight it’s come up for you,” April announces, with her arm outstretched and her finger pointed at my chest.
I can’t fucking believe it.
It’s enough to pay back April for accommodation, pay another month’s rent in advance with Rocco, and have some left over. Fuckface has paid a big chunk of the debt, alleviating the pressure. There’s still the risk he won’t pay it all, but for the first time in years I have breathing room. I also need to ask Rocco what he paid so I could keep my car and return that, too.
I’d love to let this money ride, to keep going until I have enough to give a comfortable gap between my debt and me, but it would be foolish to continue. I know better than this. Prince Fuckface and his gambling is what got me into this cluster-fuck of a situation. I’d be stupid to make it any worse for myself. Time to quit while I’m ahead, or rather, not so far behind.
I gather up my chips and pour them into my purse, the soft clanging of them pooling at the bottom music to my ears. April links her arm around my waist.
“Let’s cash my chips, get changed into our hen’s outfits and then go ride a bull to celebrate,” I say, and plant a loud kiss on her cheek.
“A what?” she asks.
“Relax. It’s not a real bull.”
“I’ve run in Pamplona, baby. I got this,” she slurs, and holds a palm towards me, attitude dripping from her.
“Come on, Vicky. We’re cashin’ in,” I call out, getting her attention from where she sits at a neighbouring table. She turns and all but skips over. “And then we’re goin’ for a ride,” I inform her.
“Woo-hoo,” Vicky hollers and skips ahead to the cashier. I can’t help but laugh. She didn’t even care to ask me what we were riding. For all she knows, I could be challenging her to ride one of those young Texan boys who we ran into earlier. They were on a buck’s night, although they were very animated when trying to inform us Aussie girls that it’s called a stag party.
“Babe, after the bull we’re going to Stratosphere Tower to go on the X-Scream rollercoaster.”
“Yay!” April shrieks. I’m quietly shitting myself, but I knew this adrenaline junkie would jump at the chance at riding one of the highest rollercoasters in the world.
I look up to see Vicky a few people ahead of us. “Just don’t tell Vicky yet, because I have a feeling Miss Always Do The Sensible Thing will never forgive me.”
“She’s a bridesmaid. She has to do it. Us sisters are in this together,” April says, with a nod. “Maybe we can trick her into it. We can tell her it’s like a little shuttle thingy that gives you a view of the strip.”
Even though she’s pissed, I think she might have a plan. “I think when we’re dangling headfirst over the edge eight hundred feet above solid ground, she might be onto us.”
April throws back her head and laughs. It melts my heart seeing her so happy and carefree. I hope that for many years to come, she looks back on this trip with fond memories. I know I will.
“That sounds like my kind of ride.”
April tugs Vicky’s hand, bringing her into line with us. When we reach the other side of the casino, I pour my chips on the felt counter at the small window of the cashier. The young dark-haired guy gives me a wink and flashes a dimple, and then slowly gathers the chips in piles and starts gathering notes from a drawer beside him.
“You’re wasting your winks on this one, my friend. She’s all about the boob,” April leans over my shoulder and slurs at him.
“She’s right,” I say to him, and then look to either side of me. “I love boobs. I’m a boob girl. The bigger the better.” Of course my tone is playful. I wink at him and secretly enjoy watching as the colour prickles at his smooth-shaven cheeks.
He clears his throat and then counts the money in front of me. When he gets to seven thousand, he makes a neat pile of notes and then pushes it forward.
“Enjoy your evening,” he says, and then stands and leaves his chair. Eep. Way to make the young guy uncomfortable.
“Why’d you make me be mean to the poor cashier, babe?” I say through a chuckle.
“What? I just didn’t want him to get his hopes up, is all.”
As we walk out into the heat of the night, April steps between Vicky and I and we link arms in some show of solidarity. Us versus Vegas.
“We thought later we might go check out the view of The Strip at night, Vic. Whatdya think?” April asks, directing her gaze straight ahead. I don’t miss the curl to her lips. She looks as if she’s a second away from pissing herself laughing.