go inside, he’s snoring on the couch with an empty bottle of Jack on the floor.
Saved by the booze.
I don’t have time to feel bad for myself or clean up his mess, so I grab a blanket and toss it over him. Heading to my room, I strip down, trying not to think about last night. But undressing brings visions of Jameson flashing through my mind. I push the thoughts aside, plug in my phone and turn on the shower. There’s no use, I’m going to be late.
The water feels good but it can’t wash away the memory of his hands on me. I turn the faucet off with a groan. My neck is stiff from sleeping awkwardly last night and the last thing I want to do is go to brunch with my mom. But since being dutiful ensures that my tuition gets paid, I rummage through my closet until I find something suitably boring for such an occasion. Stepping into the yellow sundress, my phone begins to vibrate with a series of incoming messages. I grab a few bobby pins from the dresser and twist my wet hair up. It will have to do.
I don’t have time to check the texts before Josie’s ringtone begins to play. I lunge for it, hitting accept as I flop onto my bed.
“Where the hell were you?” I demand. “I looked for you everywhere.”
“Me?” she shrieks. “I heard Monroe kicked you out. I spent half the night wandering through the casino looking for you.”
Two ships passing in the night. Sighing, I cradle my phone to my ear and unscrew my mascara wand. “I texted you. I fell asleep out by the pool.”
Now’s not the time to tell her about Jameson. Not while it’s still raw that he left me there like that.
“My phone died,” she says quickly, “but that’s not what’s important. Turn on the news.”
“The news?” I repeat.
“Emma!” Her tone is rich with warning, so I flip open my laptop.
“I’m online. What am I looking for?” I ask, still trying to do my make-up. Who says girls can’t multi-task?
“Google West Casino,” she demands.
A pit opens in my stomach as I key in the words and click on the streaming news link. Neither of us speaks as a reporter’s voice comes over my speakers.
We’re at the scene of a developing story. Authorities have confirmed the discovery of a body in the penthouse of West Casino and Resort. The penthouse is the private residence of mogul Nathaniel West and his family. There’s been no word yet on the identity of the victim but homicide units are at the scene.
“What the hell is going on?” I whisper.
“Who do you think it is?” Josie asks.
I don’t know and that’s what scares me.
Chapter Seven
One overpriced cab ride later and I’m no closer to processing Josie’s bombshell. Today is not a great day to meet with my mom, but I’ve been summoned and apparently I take my duty as her daughter far more seriously than she takes her maternal obligations to me. Mariano’s is packed with the usual late Saturday morning crowd of affluent 40-somethings. Perched atop one of Vegas’s stodgier five star hotels, the restaurant offers panoramic views of the city. You don’t get to a standing reservation here by playing slots. My guess is Mariano’s clientele prefers to retain their view from the top.
Scanning the French twists and bad toupees I search for the pair that belongs to me, and then I spot her: Vivian Von Essen sipping a mimosa.
She used to be Vivian Southerly, but there’s very few traces of the woman who used to be my mother. My mom didn’t bother doing her hair every morning. She couldn’t afford the expensive dress suit she’s wearing now. Mom didn’t just trade in her husband, she traded in her whole life. Me included. All that’s left of our relationship now is our resemblance. Someone once told me I'd be lucky to look like her when I'm older. Our green eyes are identical and we share the same sandy blonde hair. I’m guessing if I want my skin to stay youthful and radiant, I’ll need more than good genes. Maybe I should get the name of her aesthetician and plastic surgeon now. I hear it’s never too early to start.
I square my shoulders and mutter to myself as I approach her table, “Close your eyes and think of England.”
She doesn’t bother to look up from her phone. I clear my throat. I don’t remember when I