Gilt_ By Invitation Only - Geneva Lee Page 0,5

mother. So Josie and Marion Deckard are the closest I have to a girl squad. That’s definitely how it works between the two of them. Considering Marion is only thirty-five, the two of them act and look more like sisters than mother and daughter.

“This dress is missing the dress.” I whip around to check the back of Josie’s pre-approved party apparel absolutely certain that my ass is hanging out.

Josie shakes her head, pressing a finger to her mouth like she’s deep in thought regarding my ensemble. “Emma, you look hot.”

“Perhaps,” I say slowly, because part of me digs the glittery, slip of fabric she’s talked me into, “but I’m going to have to walk with my thighs smashed together all night.” I demonstrate what it looks like to walk with my knees clamped together.

“Stop it!” She tosses a throw pillow from the mound of decorative accents I keeps on my bed. “Make sure you have on cute underwear. Have you waxed lately?”

I scrunch my nose up. “The state of my lady bits aren’t up for discussion.”

“Your lady bits could use a little discussion,” she corrects me.

“They have nothing to gossip about. California isn’t the only one with a drought.”

A smirk curls Josie’s lips. “If you really want to end the dry spell, don’t wear anything underneath.”

“The old no-panties trick? So 1990s. I thought I’d fake a fainting spell instead.” There were easier ways to advertise a vacancy than putting it on display. Besides in Vegas what’s one more vagina crying out for attention? “So what trouble are you getting us into?”

“Nope.” She shakes her head as she holds out a tube of lipstick. “It’s a surprise.”

I groan and press my hands together. “Please. I beg you.”

She only smiles. Whatever she has planned can’t be good if she has to drag me there. “Do I get a blindfold?”

“The party isn’t that kinky,” she says with a snort.

“So it’s a party!”

“No shit, Sherlock.” She rolls her eyes as she fluffs my hair. It’s a lost cause. We are the yin and yang of hair— her unruly, sexy curls and my stick-straight honey blonde locks.

“Why won’t you tell me?” I ask her as she continues to make me up.

“That’s why you’re going easy on me,” she says. “Allowing me to put mascara on you isn’t going to get me to spill. I’m not that easy.”

I stick my tongue out and immediately regret the move when she smacks it with a make-up brush. “That’s not what I heard.”

“That all you got, Southerly?” She plants one hand on her hip and instantly looks just like her mother. I don’t mention this lest I get smacked with another make-up brush. “Because you need to bring it tonight.”

That’s exactly what I was afraid she would say.

Chapter Three

It’s a bad sign when Josie wants to Uber. That means two things: she’s getting drunk and we’re headed to the Strip. It’s weird being a duo when we used to be a trio. Becca and Josie used to outnumber me all the time. Now that Becca’s gone, we’re more evenly matched. Josie still wins most times. I guess she’s luckier than I am.

I once tried to see the heart of Las Vegas through the eyes of a stranger—the lights, the people, a million glittering attempts to grab your attention. But I couldn’t. Now all I can see is the reality. Behind the crowds of tourists and the Bellagio fountains, under the designer shopping and a-list shows, everyone is broken. It’s the ultimate twist of the American dream: pull a lever and you might have it all. Ride out another roll of the dice and you’ll become someone. Vegas was built on destroying people. It still is. I wish knowing that could save me, but you don’t get out of a town like this. Maybe my luck will change, but I’m not holding my breath.

Our driver flies in and out of traffic so quickly that the neon becomes streaks of color outside the window.

“So what’s tonight? Japanese businessmen or the no limits room?” I ask still looking out the glass. We don’t gamble, but I know exactly where she prefers to drift when she heads out.

“Neither. Tonight we are young,” she announces. “Besides I can always call Richard later.”

“The oil guy?”

“No, he’s in finance.”

“You need a therapist.” I abandon the view and turn to her. I’ve only told her this about a million times.

“Only if he’s hot.”

I groan. “And old. Where are we going?”

Josie bites her lip and my whole body

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