Jess’s eyes widen with curiosity. “What can be better than room service and Patrick Swayze?”
I don’t respond, I’m too busy dumping the rest of my pennies into Dottie’s bucket. “Light em’ up, Dottie!” Her crooked fingers give me a wave of gratitude, before I grab Jess’s arm and lead her across the casino. A quick search on my phone indicates that there is a Rainin’ Men show at nine-thirty, in twenty minutes, and lucky for us, the theater is an escalator ride away.
“What are we doing?” Jess calls from behind me, but I don’t have to respond because a moment later we’re in front of the theater. There’s not much of a line. It appears most people have already purchased their tickets and been seated.
“Two please.” I slide my credit card under the plastic screen to the box office attendant. “You know how I feel about Mr. Swayze, but I think we need something new tonight.”
“Are we seriously going to a male revue show?”
“Yes.”
Jess nods in approval and accepts the ticket I hand her.
“I’m always up for naked men dancing.”
The man at the door tears off the end of our tickets, and after an ID check, fits a bracelet around each of our wrists. He motions us to go through the lobby and towards another door. Inside that door, the theater lights are low and thanks to the sconces on the walls, there’s a red glow to the room.
“How many in your party?”
“Two.” I announce.
The usher eyes me and Jess. Or at least I think he’s looking at us collectively until I catch him checking out my dress.
Until this moment I’d forgotten what I was wearing. My mother’s vintage wedding gown. After the birthday celebration backstage at my fashion show, I’d helped my team pack up the gowns, as much as they would let me, and then Jess and I had headed straight for the bar and slot machines. Barrett and Chloe invited us to join them for a late dinner and drinks, and under normal circumstances I would have been excited to hang out with them, but I didn’t want to have to explain about Alec.
“Bachelorette?” He asks.
“Um…” I hesitate.
“Yes!” Jess exclaims excitedly.
“Right this way.”
“Jess.” I hiss from behind as she follows the usher toward our seats.
“What? They give you free shit sometimes. We might as well see what they have to offer. Besides, this was your idea. I’m just making the most of it.”
I realize as we pass through the crowd that among the groups of women, there are others dressed similar to me, bachelorettes decked out in skimpy white cocktail dresses and sequined rompers wearing sashes and tiaras. Large groups of women here celebrating with brides-to-be.
Maybe it’s because he feels sorry for me, a bachelorette with one friend at her party, or maybe they’re the only seats left in the theater, but he points to a small table and two chairs at the center of the stage in the front row.
“See?” Jess nods.
I glance around. The throngs of women there to celebrate their impending weddings hits me hard. I’m reminded that as of two hours ago I’m single again and I’m suddenly feeling the need for fresh air. A waitress walks by with a tray and I wave to get her attention.
“I’ll be with you in a minute, Hun.”
“Actually, I was wondering if there is a place to get fresh air.” I wave my hand in front of my face. “Too much champagne.”
The waitress’s response is quick, she’s probably afraid the longer I stand here the higher the chances she’ll be cleaning up vomit off the floor. It’s not even nine-thirty but we’re in Vegas she’s probably used to people drinking and partying all day. “Back through the lobby, last door on the left, there’s a staircase.”
“Thanks.”
“Don’t shut the door, it’ll lock!” She calls from behind me.
The staircase is easy to find and once I’m outside, taking in that fresh, non-circulated casino air, I take in a deep breath. Heeding the waitress’s advice, I keep my body positioned between the open door and the frame. Vegas is lit up around me, twinkling lights reminding me of the camera flashes at my fashion show, the elation I felt when I walked the runway behind my designs, and for a moment, I’m at peace. Then I ruin all the good feelings by pulling out my phone and listening to Alec’s voicemail again. His familiar tenor cuts through the distant sounds of the traffic below. It’s only the second time I’ve listened to it. I’m not sure what I’m listening for. The message was pretty clear the first time. He doesn’t love me. Our relationship, which I thought would be my last, is over.