Itdidn’ttakemuch time to find Rebecca and Alec once we made it down to the casino part of the hotel.
They were a couple that, everywhere they went, they drew attention. They were like the human embodiment of a disco ball—always shining over everyone else, always the life of the party, always just a little bit obnoxious.
Rebecca was the first to notice Demitri and I walking up to their table. Her umber-colored eyes drew large and her mouth dropped open to a squeal.
“Scar-Jo, get over here!”
That stupid fucking nickname made my eyes roll back in my head. Over the last two years, I’d heard the name about a hundred times too many, but Rebecca refused to call me anything else. I loathed my middle name—Joanne. It was my mother's name and pissed me off to have something of hers permanently etched into my identity.
Rebecca knew I hated it. She knew, but she loved Scarlett Johansson, the actress, more than she cared what I hated.
Long arms and the smell of coconut pulled me into a hug that I returned halfway. Rebecca and I weren’t friends, but only because I didn’t have any friends.
If I expected to live past the end of the week, one could label the comfortable relationship she and I had as friendship—a weird one with a fucked up origin story where she wanted to off me and I was keen on letting her, but friendship nonetheless.
Rebecca wrenched me out of the hug, still holding onto my shoulders. “Let me see that smile.”
“Fuck you.”
She showed me that wolfish grin of hers. “There it is.”
Despite hating being here on this Earth, in this hotel, on this shit-stain-covered carpet, I gave a short spurt of laughter. Demitri’s family had that magic ability about them.
“Vegas suits you, Becs,” I commented, eyeing her gold, mid-length dress that fit her hourglass figure like it’d been sewn into existence just for her.
Rebecca was a total stunner.
The first time I met her, I did a literal double-take just like in the movies. Her beauty was jaw-dropping, and she was intimidating as fuck with the confidence to match her looks. Her mother was from the Philippines and her father was Irish. What she got from her father was a liver of steel, and that's about it. The rest was all her mother, sharp features, legs for fucking days, and a blanket of silk black hair.
“Thanks. I was doing nothing but dying in the house waiting for Alec to finish up a shipment when Demitri said he was taking the jet here.” She flipped her hair over her shoulder, a wave of coconut wafting beneath my nose. “What would have taken me an hour took him all goddamn day. Why do men always have to play with the guns before we ship them?”
“Because we’re men and we’re easily distracted by shiny objects,” Demitri tagged on, coming around my side with his hand sliding along my waist.
“Take Alec here for example.” Demitri jutted his chin towards his brother, Alec, who hadn’t paid us any mind since we got to their craps table. “Too engrossed in his shiny chips and toys to even acknowledge us standing right next to him.”
“Don’t be an asshole, little brother,” Alec said, dark eyes narrowed on the multi-colored chips on the table. “I’m trying to win back the two grand of yours that you just made me lose.”
“How in the hell did I do that?”
“By distracting me,” Alec exclaimed, running a hand over the brim of his short hair. “You’re babbling away, and then on top of that, you brought this beauty back with you.”
Alec’s arm reached out behind him, his fingers wrapping around my forearm and tugging me in his direction. I went with a lazy smile cinching up my cheeks, turning my head to let his lips plant the kiss I knew was coming.
“Hey, beautiful.”
He dropped a swift kiss on my cheek like usual, leaving behind his fragrance of cigarettes, and then he went back to his game, ordering a round of drinks for the table with a flick of his inked hand at the passing waitress.
“What’re we drinking?” I asked, sitting myself down on one of the red pleather stools next to Alec. The material was cracked and dug into my skin, making me squirm. Before I even had to ask, Demitri ushered me to stand up, sliding his jacket coat as a shield between my legs and the assaulting pleather.
I offered him an appreciative glance, and he sent back a knowing wink.
“I got us all scotch.”
Alec was met with moans of protest from all three of us. He cut his hands in a wild gesture through our displeasure, handing each of us a look under the thick of his lashes. “You can’t complain if it’s free.”
Demitri’s eyebrows flattened. “It’s only free if you’re gambling, idiot.”
“So start fucking gambling.” Alec shrugged, sliding another cigarette between his lips.