Hitched (Hearts of Stone Book 2) Page 2

  I wanted to point out that as far as something being wasted, she was well past that point. But then again, she was probably too drunk to understand sarcasm anyway.

  Willow leaned into me. “Just go with it, Harlow. It’s much easier than arguing. You know she’s going to end up making you go anyway. Besides,” she said, grinning, “you might have fun.”

  Maybe she was right. Plus, I wasn’t ready for my birthday to end just yet. I only had one night to kick responsibility to the curb, and I needed to take advantage of every minute I had. Giving in, I followed my sisters as we stumbled our way across the Strip to the MGM Grand. Actually, they did most of the stumbling. I was merely there as some sort of wobbly human crutch on stilettos, which became apparent as I saved Marlow from tripping over a homeless guy who was selling palm leaves folded into flowers.

  She nearly took out three more people before we made it to the entrance of the club which was guarded by an enormous gold lion and a couple of bouncers who were nearly as big. If the line to get in was any indication, she wasn’t lying about Hakkasan being popular. Everyone standing behind the velvet rope looked like sex wrapped up in the least amount of clothing and the thickest makeup possible. At least as far as the girls went. The guys? Walking one-night stands as far as the eye could see.

  Marlow pulled her shoulders back and lifted her chin, somehow looking only half as drunk as she was as she led us past the line and to the entrance.

  “Hey, darlin’. You gotta wait in line like the rest of ‘em.” The bouncer’s mouth flattened into a bored frown, and he pointed to the line of people just beyond the rope. He was large—about the size of a WWE wrestler—and his bald head and impeccable suit made him look like a mob hitman rather than a guy who checked IDs. I imagined he could snap any one of us in half if he felt so inclined.

  Marlow seemed unaware of the danger he posed and I kind of admired her ability to not to wilt under the man’s disdain. It’s possible she was just too drunk to notice.

  “Marlow Cage, Willow Vallencourt, and Harlow Ransom,” she said. When the man didn’t respond right away, she handed over our IDs and pointed toward the clipboard in his hand. “Check your list, handsome. We’re guests of Mason Cage.”

  She smiled sweetly at him until he released an annoyed breath. He checked our IDs against his list, and when he looked up at her again, I could see interest in his gaze. “Marlow Cage, huh?” He reached for the rope and unbuckled it, stepping to the side to let us in. “Enjoy yourself, sweetheart. Let me know if you need anything.” His voice suggested anything actually meant him.

  “Sure will, handsome.” Marlow smiled sweetly at him until we were inside and then she rolled her eyes and shivered. “The ones who are only interested once they find out who my daddy is creep me the hell out.”

  As far as fathers went, we all had it pretty good. Except when it came to dating. I couldn’t decide which of us had the worst situation in that department. Guys wanted to date Marlow because she had a famous rock star father and they wanted a piece of the action…or at least an autograph. Guys came sniffing around Willow because of her father’s business connections with hopes of how he might help out their resumes. But me? Guys didn’t really come around at all. When I was in high school, somehow a rumor started going around that not only was my dad a navy seal who knew how to kill a person in about ninety-three different ways with his bare hands, but that he knew how to hide the bodies afterward. Personally, I think he started the damn rumors himself. When I had to take my cousin to the prom because I couldn’t find a date at my school, my father was entirely unsympathetic. “Distractions,” he’d said. “That’s all they are, Harlow. You don’t need them. Don’t let a guy get in the way of your dreams.”

  Not bad advice. In fact, it was advice I wholeheartedly agreed with and abided by now. I had big plans for my future, and I refused to let anyone get in the way of that. A few kisses and half-hearted promises weren’t worth the pain when those promises were broken. I’d seen what Nicole Mercer had done to my dad. I wasn’t going to let anyone do that to me.

  That’s not to say I was inexperienced. There were guys in college—I had needs after all. But there were no promises made. I found that one-night stands were mutually beneficial. Anything more than that and expectations started to form. One night was all I had to give, and I only chose to be with guys who were willing to accept that. I didn’t really need a permanent guy anyway. I had Buzz.

  I shoved away thoughts of my father as my sisters and I made our way down the hallway and into the club. The dance floor in front of the stage was wall-to-wall bodies, spinning laser lights, and pulsing techno beats that rattled my bones. The place was packed, and there was a lot of skin and groping hands everywhere I looked. Hakkasan was a melting pot of lewdness and lost inhibitions—exactly Marlow’s sort of place. I, on the other hand, felt like a kid who had snuck into her father’s liquor cabinet and didn’t know how to get the top off the bottle.

  Marlow grabbed our hands and pulled us to the edge of the dance floor.

  “Drinks?” Willow asked, swinging her perfectly manicured index finger between us.

  Marlow took a long pull from the daiquiri slushy she held. It was the size of a friggin’ toddler. “I’m good. Meet me on the dance floor when you’re done,” she shouted, spinning away from us. Her hands were in the air, and her eyes were closed, her body falling in rhythm with the music as she let the alcohol take over. Within seconds, the crowd seemed to swallow her whole, accepting her as one of their own. Without a glance back, she let them take her.

  “Harlow?”

  I shook my head. “I’m the designated walker. Someone has to make sure we make it back to the room in one piece, right?”

  Willow grinned before making her way to the crowded bar for a drink.

  I stood and watched the chaos, catching glimpses of Marlow as a guy materialized beside her and her drink was tossed to the side so she’d have both hands free to explore her dance partner. I rubbed my arm, my awkwardness slowly washing over me as sobriety found a foothold.

  “Smile,” a voice from my right said over the pumping music.

  I cringed and then turned to face the guy who had come up next to me. I hated it when random guys told me to smile, as if I was obligated to decorate their world.

  “Maybe you should tell me a joke,” I suggested, shouting over the music. The least I could do was give him a chance to come up with something better.

  “What?” His forehead furrowed over his eyes in confusion.

  He wasn’t bad looking. Cute actually. But I was going to need a little more than an attractive face and sorry ass pickup line.

  I tilted my head. “Tell me a joke so I have a reason to smile.” I gave him a ghost of a grin to urge him on. Come on, dude. It’s my birthday. Woo me.

  He smirked, his eyes lighting up in understanding as he leaned in close. “You know what I like in a girl?”

  “What?” I asked, my smile turning hopeful.

  “My dick.”

  And…I’d just met the king of douches. My down under, which had been so happy just an hour ago, literally revolted at the idea of another minute next to this moron. “Tough luck,” I said, gesturing to my lower half. “No vacancy.”

  I didn’t bother to stick around to hear his response. Pushing my way through the crowd, I found an empty table where I could still catch glimpses of Marlow. I sat on one of the bar stools and pulled out my phone to check my messages. Although I knew it hadn’t been my sisters’ intention, the minutes rolled by into double digits, and I found myself bored and alone at the edge of all the insanity. Maybe I should have felt compelled to join in the dancing with Marlow, or to brave the crowded bar with Willow, but I just couldn’t muster the desire for either. I could feel the weight of another bar in another casino. Like a second heartbeat, I could feel the seconds as they counted down to another big reveal. And how the woman who would soon be making love to the microphone again was oblivious to the fact that I was cel
ebrating another birthday without her.

  As if knowing I needed an excuse to be alone, my phone started buzzing and the screen lit up with my father’s face. Of course. It was Friday. He’d just be getting home from poker night. I told myself I had to answer his call or he’d worry. And it’d be impossible to take his call inside the club.

  Without thinking about it, I shoved away from the table and made my way to the exit. I just needed someplace quiet to talk to him. Besides, I still hadn’t had the chance to scratch “Watch the Bellagio fountains” off my list. I’d just talk to my dad, head on over and watch the next show, and then make my way back to the club. Maybe by then, Marlow and Willow would be ready to head back to the room.

  I knew I should feel guilty for skipping out on my own birthday celebration, but I also knew my sisters would never let me go off without them. And I needed a moment to think. Alone.

  As I walked past the bouncer and out onto the sidewalk outside, I answered the call.

  “Hey, Dad. Are your pockets heavy?”

  He chuckled. “I’m going to have to wear an extra belt from now on. It’s not even fair to the old bastards.” But he said it with fondness because those old bastards just happened to be his navy seal buddies. Most of them were like uncles to me. “What about you? What are you doing? Having a good birthday?”

  I cleared my throat. “Yeah. Thanks for the cash,” I said, avoiding his first two questions. “Did you rob a bank or something?” I still hadn’t gotten over the shock of five one-hundred dollar bills falling out of my birthday card when I opened it. “You didn’t need to do that.”

  “I know,” he said, amused. “But you deserve it. I know how hard you work and I thought it might be nice if you took a day off every once in a while. You should treat yourself.”

  I rubbed my arm guiltily, certain that his version of treating myself was likely a massage or pedicure, not a weekend in Vegas. “Thanks, Dad. That means a lot.”

  “Well, I just wanted to wish you a happy birthday before you went to bed. Unless,” he said, warily, “you’re still out celebrating.”

  “I think I might go to bed pretty soon actually.” A car honked and I winced, knowing he heard it over the phone and that he knew my bed wasn’t quite as close as I was insinuating.

  “Good. Just...” he paused as if he was going to give me a warning, but then he said. “Have a happy birthday, Harlow.” He didn’t tell me not to drink or party or any of the other things someone does on their twenty-first birthday, and I kind of loved him for not forcing me to lie and promise that I wouldn’t when I already had.

  “Thanks, Dad. I love you.”

  “Love you, too. Goodnight.”

  He hung up, and I stood on the street corner watching the screen of my phone as the call disconnected. My birthday buzz was officially dead. I couldn’t go back into the club yet. Not before I saw the Bellagio fountains.

  I sent a text to my sisters.

  Me: Looking for the bathroom. I’ll find you later. xo

  I turned off my phone and shoved it into my purse. I’d be back before they even realized I wasn’t in the bathroom. I’d just watch one show. There was no harm in that.

  — TRACE —

  2. BACK ON BOARD

  July 29, 2016

  WILL TRACE STONE BE BACK ON BOARD IN TIME FOR X-GAMES 2017? by National Sports Network

  American snowboarder, Trace Stone, made it to the semifinals in the snowboard cross event in the 2016 X-Games only to suffer a devastating crash that resulted in a torn ACL and a serious concussion. He was the favorite to win the gold, and fans were understandably disappointed when he was unable to finish the competition.

  “I went all the way out to Aspen just to see Stone win gold,” said Jeremy Bolon, a fan from South Dakota who was in Vegas to attend ShredCon, the biggest snowboarding convention in the country. “I couldn’t believe he got hurt. I never got to meet him. I’m hoping to have him sign my board today, though.”

  Trace Stone is well known for taking risks on the slopes, but he’s just as famous for dominating the field with his effortless control. And in an event as fast and furious as snowboard cross, control is essential. Despite his injury, Stone is a superstar in the snowboarding world and has been a sponsored rider since he was fourteen, winning three career gold medals in previous X-Games. He’s hinted at the possibility of joining the US Olympic team for the 2018 Winter Games.

  That is, if he decides to come back to the sport he loves.

  As most fans of the Winter X-Games know, Stone had surgery immediately after his accident, and it’s reported that he’s had extensive rehabilitation since then. Usually this time of the year he can be found at the Blockhouse, a training facility in Tahoe that caters to x-treme sports athletes, but there’s been no word on whether he’s returned to his rigorous workout schedule yet.

  There’s no doubt Trace Stone has talent, but the question is, will we see him back on the slopes this year?

  =========================

  Assholes. As if they cared. I was a story to them whether I came back or not. I pressed the button to close out the internet browser and then shoved my phone into my back pocket. I don’t know why I bothered reading stories about myself, I always just ended up pissed off. And now I was too amped up to sit around in this bar with all the noise and people. I needed a change of scenery.

  “How long do you plan to stay here?” I asked the guys.

  “Are you leaving already?” Seth took a sip of his beer. There was only one empty bottle on the table in front of him. He was just getting started.

  “I start training on Monday. I probably should go get some sleep.”

  “It’s the weekend, dickwad. Jamie made a call, we’ve got girls coming. They’re already paid for and everything.”

  They got prostitutes? Were these really my friends?

  “You’re paying to play now?” I asked Seth, disgusted. “You’ve got a girlfriend, dude. That shit is not cool.”

  “This is Vegas, man. You know what they say.” He shrugged as if that was a valid excuse for being a douche.

  I knew what they said about Vegas, but when my name was involved, what happened in Vegas would be another negative headline all over every social media outlet. I definitely didn’t need that. I had enough as it was.

  I stood up, digging in my pocket for some cash. I tossed a few bills on the table. “I’m going back to my room. I’ll see you guys in the morning.”

  “Afternoon,” Seth corrected me. “Don’t you fucking dare wake me up before noon tomorrow. The autograph session isn’t until four.”

  I shook my head. And he wondered why he’d never made it to the elite levels of competition. His dedication left a lot to be desired.

  “Trace,” Seth called as I walked away. “Why’d you come with us to Vegas if you weren’t going to have any fun?”

  I didn’t bother to answer, I merely waved as I walked with my back to him and continued heading toward the exit. He knew why I came to Vegas…for ShredCon, the snowboarding convention. I rode for Burton, and I was obligated to attend autograph sessions today and tomorrow. Even though I hadn’t been on a board in months, it was insane how many people still showed up to have me sign things or just to catch a selfie with me. I hated to be ungrateful, but I’d be enjoying the weekend a shit ton more if I’d ended last season with a medal and not a fucked up knee. I felt like some kind of fake, signing and posing like I was still a winner.

  I needed a kick in the ass. This self-pity wasn’t me. I was the risk taker, the laid back guy who enjoyed life and all its surprises. I didn’t balk at spontaneity, and I never sulked. At least, I never had until my accident last winter.

  Get your shit together, Stone!

  I needed the chance to put myself to the test. To know whether my body could be trusted again. Ever since my accident, all of the carefully made plans for my future seemed to be out of focus. I used to know what I wanted and exactly how I would get it, but things didn’t seem as cl
ear now. I loved snowboarding and craved competition, but I hated the idea that the accident had caused me to take a dozen huge steps backward. In the last few months, I’d spent all of my time just regaining my strength and the ability to walk and run like I used to. What would I have to relearn once I got back on my board?

  The thought was sobering. I’d come so far in the sport and the expectation to win and appease my sponsors was suffocating. Could I deal with the possibility that I might not be able to meet those expectations anymore? What if I wasn’t a gold-medal contender ever again? What if I was just another mediocre snowboard jockey—like Seth and Jamie?

  I thought Vegas would take my mind off things, but ShredCon and all of the articles flooding social media were forcing me to face the grim truth—my future wasn’t guaranteed. And yet I was still a novelty in the sport. I understood why people came to see the broken snowboarder. I understood that my failures were just as newsworthy as my successes.

  What I didn’t understand was why I was spending my time in Vegas with assholes like Jamie and Seth.

  Well, at least that was one thing I had control over.

  I made my way through the nightclub, the lights flashing and the music pounding all around me. I hadn’t had much to drink, but I could feel the promise of a headache in the near future—an unwanted reminder of my accident.

  A pretty blonde with a hell of a lot of skin showing moved in front of me and draped her arms around my neck. “I want to dance with you,” she murmured, rubbing her body against me. She was beautiful and dressed like she might have been one of the girls that Seth and Jamie were expecting.

  “Sorry,” I apologized, reaching up to pull the girl’s hands from around my neck. “I don’t dance.” She pouted as she turned away, but I knew it wouldn’t last long. Marquee was filled with available and eager guys, she’d find another dance partner without too much trouble.