CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
VIENNA'S POV
"Vienna, are you almost done? Reynolds said our truck's waiting for us."
"Yeah, I'll be out in a second."
"What are you doing in there?"
"Elliot, I'm in the bathroom. Take a wild guess?"
I heard him chuckle softly outside the bathroom door, his shuffling footsteps following shortly. To be fair, he had a point; I'd been in the police station bathroom for over ten minutes, but it wasn't because I ate something gross or expired during the trip. I was reading over the letter to Austin, making sure it was perfected, and before we left, I needed a moment to myself.
It wasn't like the letter served a purpose; it probably wouldn't get to him until after graduation. And maybe he would just ball it up and completely disregard everything, throwing it away like it -- or we -- were nothing. Still, sending a letter like this felt freeing.
I recognized the problem. The problem wasn't Austin, it was me. I was the one who needed to defend myself and walk away. Austin was toxic, and always had been. He was just hiding it very, very well. I would rather have no relationship than one based on lies. And my letter signified that I didn't want to fall in love memories anymore, because face it, people change.
There was some part of me that didn't want to let go. That part of me that memorized every sweet gesture, every 3 AM message, every unperfect date that went wrong but ended up perfectly right. Holding the letter in my hands and deciding to let Austin read it required a lot of strength.
I finally stuck the stamps onto the envelope and stood in front of the bathroom mirror, momentarily cringing at the flyaway hairs and the dark bags threatening to swallow my eyes. I dabbed at my face, trying to polish it clean -- or as clean it could be -- with a wet paper towel and ran my fingers through my dry hair.
My clothes felt sweaty, sticky, and damp, Tessa's fine fabrics of even the simplest gray cotton shirt clinging to me in all the wrong places. In hindsight, I should've taken a shower at Elliot's uncle's house.
There were two knocks on the door. "Vienna," Elliot urged. "I'm beyond ready to go to Vegas. Can we go?"
"Fine," I replied, running the faucet.
All I could see in the dirty, smudged police station mirror was a person I wasn't sure of yet. But after completing the seemingly unfeasable feat of talking -- and hanging up -- on my own mom and closing up this letter to probably the only boy that left me emotionally drained, I felt strangely like I was on top of the world; that I could do anything.
"Vienna."
"Coming!"
* * * *
Now I could check two things off my non-existent bucket list; getting arrested and getting a police escort. Maybe I could get extra points for accomplishing them all in one day.
I'd only seen police escorts on TV and movies, and they were mainly for celebrities and really important heads of government. I had pictured six police cars flanking on both sides of our car, maybe a helicopter or two flying above us, and a couple of police motorcycles surrounding our truck. In reality, we had gotten Officer Reynolds one cop car driving in front of us with his sirens lit and blaring, with Elliot expertly driving right behind him. A police escort meant that we could go nearly as fast as the illegal limit (we were speeding down I-40 at eighty-five), and it meant getting to where we needed without getting a ticket.
"Isn't this sweet?" Elliot whistled long and low, one hand on the sterring wheel. It was almost six pm, and the air started to change from the sweltering humid afternoon heat to a breezy sunset chill. We had all the windows down, the wind howling at us from how fast we were going. It sent chills up my spine and my hairs sprawling in the wind.
"It is," I agreed, as I scooped up my shoulder-length hair into a wispy ponytail, though it did nothing to help. "I actually think we might make it."
"For your graduation?" he looked at me briefly before turning away.
"And for Samantha," I suggested.
Elliot's smile was becoming forced, but he nodded. "And for Samantha."
For a while, we just enjoyed the sweet bliss ofa semi-silent drive, save for the wind and the occasional pop tune on the radio. But even the radio was turned down low and the both of us sat there, together but not together, alone but not really, side by side and just eager to get home.
"I called Samantha's mom before we left the police station," Elliot said suddenly, his eyes straight.
I lifted my head up off the edge of the door, blinking. "Really?"
"Yeah."
I wanted to ask where he had got the one extra phone call, more than the one we were allowed, but he kept talking and it probably would've been the wrong thing to say.
"There's been a change of procedure."
"A change?" I turned to him, fully, but he wasn't looking at me. Instantly, I feared for the worst. "What... what kind of change?"
Elliot shrugged, and for a second, I thought it was going to be more horrible news. I thought I was going to have another episode of the Fed-Ex Truck Breakdown. But, that didn't happen.
"She's doing better. Heaps better. Loads better," Elliot said quickly, like if he didn't say the words fast enough, they would stop being true.
"Loads?" I urge him on with a genuine grin.
He nodded, a twinge of a smile growing on his face. I could see it through the settling darkness of the car. "They thought that her brain activity would decrease and she would be in a coma if she didn't get better soon, but she's surprised them. She's responding really well to their treatments; that's what her mom told me. The doctor said that if she keeps this up, Samantha will recover in two, maybe three months."
"Elliot, that’s really great,” I said, and honest to God, I meant it. My thing for Elliot was a thing of a short-lived past; it was just the remains of a schoolgirl crush. But Elliot had someone waiting for him back in Bell Gardens, California, and it would be beyond stupid and completely selfish of me to take that away from him. Like I could ever replace Samantha. Pfft.
“I know, I know,” Elliot’s smile grew from a twinge to a full-one eye-reaching grin. It was refreshing to see him like this, without the heavy anchor of Samantha’s condition always weighing him down. He looked absolutely great and content, plain and simple.
Things were looking up, in a way. Even after all the mishaps, everything seemed to be fitting into place. Samantha is getting better and will eventually recover. I’ve said my good-byes to Austin and sent the letter off at a mailbox in Arizona. I would be graduating tomorrow and we would get there in time.
And it occurred to me that even though we had just passed the blue-and-white welcoming sign that blared WELCOME TO NEVADA; THE SILVER STATE, and even though I felt no different than when we were in Arizona, I knew everything would be okay.
“Hey, Vienna,” Elliot said after a while of silence.
“Hey, Elliot.” I didn’t look away from the windows. I was too focused on the green bur of trees that raced past us at eighty-five miles per hour.
“You know when you told me that you had someone waiting for you back home?”
I frowned instantly, suddenly grateful for the dark. I could feel him peering over at me, waiting expectantly for an answer. “Actually, I may have exaggerated that. Just a tiny bit.”
More like an enormous bit.
“What do you mean?”
I shifted in my seat, focused on the neverending blur outside the window. “There really isn’t…well, there was, there isn’t anymore. There’s no one special back home.” My chest felt tight, and there was a stark difference between writing down that I didn’t love Austin and actually saying that we’re actually done. Leave it to my own mother’s mistakes for leaving a crater in my heart, that was coincidentally Austin-shaped. Maybe if she hadn’t done what she had done to Dad, I would be coping better. Stronger.
Elliot turned his eyes away from the road for a split three seconds, glancing at me. “Why? What happened to Arnold?”
“Austin,” I corrected.
“Right. Austin. That dude. Wait, the dude in your letter?”
“You were reading it?” I asked.
“N-No, of course not, I just kind of glanced, and well. No, I didn’t read it.”
“I don’t mind if you read it,” I said. “But I guess we have a lot more in common when it comes to relationships.”
I didn’t think he would understand what I meant, but Elliot was full of surprises, and obviously, I didn’t know all of them. His jaw fell slack, and he stared at me, his gaze burning my skin if he could. He narrowed his eyes tightly, “He cheated on you, didn’t he?”
“For lack of a better, more pleasant explanation – yeah, he did,” I didn’t dare leave my eyes off of the window.
“Oh,” he said, in a small voice that almost definitely included a tinge of pity. Normally I hated whenever someone sympathized with me. I didn’t handle pity all too well. I guess that was another thing; my pride was bigger than my pessimism. I couldn’t handle someone reaching out, because I’d always think that they thought I couldn’t do it on my own. And it was true.
“Well, that’s good to hear,” Elliot said suddenly.
I tore my eyes off the windowpane and gaped at him. “Excuse me?” Was Elliot really saying being cheated on was a good thing?
“I didn’t mean it like that, calm down,” he chuckled, making the red warmness of my cheeks fade away. “I was just saying it’s good that you don’t have anyone back home. You know, at least Eli has a chance now, that you’re single.”
The sudden deflated feeling of a ripped-apart balloon filled my chest, and I ran an exasperated hand through my eternally tangled hair. “I told you before, Elliot – I’m not interested in Eli.”
“Why not?”
I shrugged, because for once, he had asked me a question to which I didn’t know the answer to. Not knowing the answer was terrifying. Why had I thrown a perfectly good chance to be with someone like Eli Santos? Apart from his moody disasters and snide, a little hurtful, remarks, there was something to be said about what he hid underneath. He had depth, I could give him that. His face didn’t hurt, either.
But there was something about just meeting someone and falling too fast. Because everyone knows not to fall in love when you’re still hurting. Otherwise, it was just a rebound. I couldn’t be unfair to Eli. I couldn’t lead him on. I couldn’t lie to myself either; I had always had a thing for Elliot. Old habits died pretty damn hard.
“Because his eyes were open,” I told him simply, referring back to what Elliot had seen in the hospital hallway, the site of the kiss.
Or because my eyes were closed. Or because I couldn’t trust someone I had just met. Or because I just couldn’t.
Elliot seemed satisfied with my answer, and we finally, finally left the topic alone.
-
By the time it was 9:58 PM, our truck was out of gas and our police escort had ended; we had arrived in Las Vegas.
There was something about the flashing lights in purple, pink, orange, and green, the perfectly manicured palm trees lining the roads of Vegas Strip, the neon signs yelling at us vividly that made me go wide-eyed, almost dazed. There were casinos on every street, every block. A Fendi outlet on one boulevard, a Gucci store on another. The less-famous replica of the Eiffel Tower with the yellow lights running up and down the fake monument. The sky-high hotels with paneled windows reaching to the heavens, making my head spin. It all seemed so fake and superficial, like the grand food courts and gambling Grand Caesar casinos promised empty, temporary happiness. Still, I’d never been anywhere like it, and I suddenly missed Eli being with us more than ever.
Officer Reynolds pulled into the nearest gas station and we said goodbye in a Shell.
“On hindsight, leaving you two kids in Vegas probably isn’t the brightest idea,” Reynolds hooked his fingers onto his belt that held his gun, breathing deeply and making his pot belly seem bigger. “But I believe the police escort ends here.”
“Thanks, Officer,” Elliot shook hands.
“Don’t mention it, it’s my fault I got you two held up. Sorry about the whole urinating incident, by the way,” Reynolds blushed sheepishly.
I smiled softly, shaking my own hands with his clammy hands, “It was a rookie mistake.”
Shortly, Officer Reynolds said goodbye and Elliot and I watched his cop car pull out from the gas station and disappear down Vegas Strip. Thanks to him, we had gotten to Las Vegas in half the time.
“We should probably stock up on gas and food,” Elliot gestured towards the Kwik-E-Shop attached to the station. “You wanna come with?”
I nodded, and after parking (and locking) Uncle Terrence’s car, we made our way inside. Elliot reached for his wallet and counted our remaining money – much of it thanks to Uncle Terrence’s fund. “We have three hundred dollars for now. Gas would probably be our biggest issue, but we only have a couple more hours left; eight hours or so. We could survive on a whole tank or two, equaling the most is a hundred dollars. Give or take.”
My head was spinning. All I got out of that was that we would have two hundred dollars left, and that sounded a lot less safer than three hundred.
“And you said you weren’t good at math.”
“I’m mediocre at surviving,” he winked at me. I pretended it had no effect on me, whatsoever.
After ten minutes in the Kwik-E-Shop, the both of us filled up the truck and bought a Dr. Pepper and a Gatorade (Elliot’s preference), two bags of Utz chips (sour cream for me, cheddar for him), a bruised apple, a map of Vegas, and a beef jerky family pack (guess who.) We were about to get inside the car after filling up, when Elliot insisted on a last-minute phone call to Samantha. I walked with him to the payphone just outside the store, hanging around at a safe distance, between “being here for you in case you need me” and “I promise I’m not eavesdropping.”
I leaned against the windows of the Kwik-E-Shop, folding my arms across my chest as Elliot punched in the number. He was waiting for someone to pick up when suddenly, the middle-aged store manager burst out of the store, enraged.
“Hey! Who’s rusted piece of metal is that in Aisle Three?” he shrieked. Instantly, Elliot and I snapped our heads towards him.
Covering the mouthpiece of the phone, Elliot raised a meager hand, “Sir, that’s our car.”
“Well would you mind getting it out of the way? If you’re done refilling your gas, then don’t take up the damn space!” he said, not unkindly before going back into the store.
Elliot turned to me before mouthing, “what the hell?” and taking out his keys. “What a douche. Next time we go to Vegas, remind me to come to this gas station,” he then handed the phone receiver to me. “Here, lemme just park the truck, mind holding this?”
“Wait, wha—“
But Elliot had already gone to the truck and I was left with the phone. Upon hearing it closer, someone had already picked up the phone on the other end.
“Hello? Hello, who is this?” a woman’s voice, clear, sharp and somewhat tired, said.
“Uh, hi there,” I awkwardly said. “Uh, this is a friend of Elliot’s. Elliot James? My name’s Vienna Dawson. We’re on our way to check on Samantha and Elliot wanted to call if she was doing alright?”
There was a slight shift on the other end. “Vienna Dawson, you said?”
“Yes, this is Samantha’s mother, correct?”
“Uh, yes,” she said uneasily. Even through the phone, I could hear the melodious, rhythmic beeping of hospital equipment in the background. “Where is Elliot?”
“He’s kind of busy right now.”
“Oh, well I’ll be sure to tell Samantha he –er, you—called. Samantha is doing a lot--“
There was a sudden crackle to the phone, and blank static replaced the woman’s tired voice. Her voice was gone and the phone was breaking up, cracking and threatening to die on me, even if we had just inserted a fresh quarter.
“He-Hello? Mrs. Samantha’s mom? You there?” I called into the receiver, but she didn’t respond. The call had ended, or maybe she had hung up on me, or maybe both. As if on cue, Elliot strode up and held out his hand for the phone receiver.
“I think the call got disconnected or something, because it just died on me,” I said sullenly, handing him the phone.
“What?” he inserted another quarter, pressed the same phone number, and tried waiting for a call. Only, it didn’t work. “This payphone is a bust. Did you hear anything she said? How’s Samantha?”
I let my shoulders rise and fall, “I’m sorry, she didn’t get to say before it hung up.”
Elliot’s face fell, disappointed. His eyes shot to the ground, and I could probably guess he was regretting ever handing me the phone in the first place. Once again, I, Vienna the Pessimist, had to screw up everything I touched.
“It’s probably fine. Samantha’s doing better, so that’s what her mom would’ve said,” Elliot filled in. He shoved his hands into his pockets of his worn shorts that I knew well by now.
We stood in the parking lot, not really knowing what else to do next. On the one hand, we had just spent four hours in the car, our butts still numb and our legs still stiff. On the other, we had places to go, people to desperately see.
For a while, we were just blinding by all the technicolor lights just luring us in.
Elliot cleared his throat, placing his fist in front of his mouth. “You, uh, wanna get something to eat? I saw a Johnny Rockets down the street, if you want.”
My eyebrows scrunched together. “I thought we just bought chips and stuff? Elliot, we spent fifteen bucks on food.”
“Well, yeah, but when was the last time you’ve had an authentic milkshake? Or even a big, fat, juicy burger, for that matter?”
“Elliot, how could you? I’m a vegetarian,” I said, my face twisting in a wounded look.
“Wait, what?” he saw his package of beef jerky jutting out of his pants pocket, and it already had a bite taken out of it. He didn’t even wait to take the price sticker off. Ashamed, he shoved it discreetly back into the pocket.
“I-I’m sorry. I mean, you never told me—“
“I’m just kidding. I ate bacon in Arkansas, remember?” I stifled a laugh, satisfied with his stunned expression. “Yeah. I'm up for burgers. Actually, maybe three burgers."
He lit up instantly, and watching him, it was like slow-motion. His eyes brightened first, then his infamous, hated smiles came right after. I tried to ignore the bubbly feelings that threatened to transform into butterflies in my stomach.
"So you said something about a Jason Rockets?" I asked.
“If you’re gonna eat the best burgers in the world, at least say the name right,” he scoffed, before leading me back to the car.
* * * *
“Come on, just eat it.”
“It’s really… large.”
“Yeah, I know. Just eat it.”
“Is it supposed to be this big—“
“Vienna, I swear to the almighty goddess of all that is beef jerky, if you don’t eat it right now, I’ll smack you with this menu,” Elliot threateningly raised a laminated Johnny Rockets menu above his head, but he was biting his lip to keep from laughing. His eyes were bright and he looked incredibly, impossibly happy. It was probably the high of the good news of Samantha and being in Las Vegas, but it was contagious.
“Elliot, you’re about as frightening as a baby squirrel.”
“Hey, that’s what I say.”
I rolled my eyes, holding up the incredibly hefty burger that could’ve weighed more than my head. It was stuffed with ketchup, mustard, lettuce, the works. Elliot bragged about this being the sixteenth time visiting a Johnny Rockets and apparently, that made him the food expert. I let him order all my food for me, considering I’d never been here.
Reluctantly, I took a bite and felt the rush of adrenaline and saw doves shooting out of Elliot’s head and confetti bursting from the ceiling. Or at least, it tasted like that.
“Hot. Damn,” I breathed in disbelief.
Elliot crossed his arms in delight. “Right? I told you, you could trust me.”
“I’ll never not listen to you ever again,” I promised, closing my eyes and taking another bite.
“I wish I could’ve recorded that,” he said, smiling at me.
I took another bite, and another. “Do they have take-out bags here?” I asked instantly.
Elliot threw back his head and laughed, and I don’t know for what reason, but every time I manage to make him even the tiniest bit happy, a shot of pride surges into my chest. I guess there was something about seeing someone close to you lose their walls and break down right in front of you that wires you to be like that.
Johnny Rockets was a diner themed restaurant, everything all red, white, and black tiled and from the fifties. The waiters wore big, fanned poodle skirts and folded paper hats. Each table came with a mini-jukebox, with songs from Elvis (another pang of missing Eli), Diana Ross, Jackson 5, and the Platters. The drinks were in these huge brimmed glasses and the booths had matching leather and the straws were in a tall, metal cup instead of automatic dispensers. It all felt so retro authentic. I was in love with it.
“Ugh,” I closed my eyes. “How could I have never heard of this place before?”
“They always had a Johnny Rockets in Venice beach, and whenever I went with my parents or Tess, we made it a tradition to come here,” Elliot said, in between sips of his vanilla milkshake. “They closed down that Johhny Rockets in Venice two years ago. I haven’t been since. I missed it so much. Especially the vanilla milkshakes. That’s why I really wanted to come here, even if we only have like, two hundred dollars left.”
I nodded. It did make sense. Our family never really had any traditions, and probably never will, but I could understand.
“Oh, and the best thing ever?” Elliot leaned across the table and whispered, like it was top-secret, “The waiters dance every fifteen minutes.”
I raised an eyebrow. “No way.”
But it was true. When our waiter came to refill our drinks, a retro song suddenly burst onto the intercom, and she stopped refilling my Dr. Pepper, froze, and started dancing to the beat. All the waiters stopped what they were doing, be it delivering a tray of burgers and fries or taking an order. They all joined together and formed a flash-mob, dancing a choreagraphed number to an energetic fifties song.
An elderly couple left their booth and actually started dancing along with them. The old man had a cane, but that didn’t stop them from shaking their hips like they were back in 1945 and the War had just ended.
Elliot pointed them out to me and we laughed along with them, clapping our hands along to the beat. He snuck a few glances my way, watching me entranced by the whole dance number, and he started to get up. For a second, I thought we were already leaving.
He walked over to my side of the booth and held out his hand.
"Dance with me?" he offered.
“Huh?” I was confused at first, then Elliot was shaking his hips. He was moving his feet. He was tapping it rhythmically. Oh hell no.
My eyes widened and I shook my head, “Elliot, I can’t dance.”
“So what? I don’t care, dance with me?”
"I nearly decapitated this chaperone at my eighth grade formal," I whispered, warning him.
"Do I look like I care? Come on, before this song ends. Please?" his eyes were the second-worst thing on the planet. Could they ever stay at one color?
I stared at his hand in my face, and normally, the old Vienna – the one that was still attached to Austin, the one who didn’t travel across the country in four days – would have said no and sulked. But I called her the “Old” Vienna for a reason. The Old Vienna would never have been asked to dance -- not like this. Austin was never a big fan of big gestures and especially not big dance numbers.
I sighed reluctantly, plastered a hesitant smile on my face, and took Elliot’s hand, wrapping my fingers around his and letting him swoop me off the booth.
I had no experience in dancing whatsoever. But Elliot still had a lot of surprises, and it was like he knew the song by heart (“Build Me Up Buttercup” by the Foundations, he whispered into my ear). He spun me around and clutched at my waist with his hand tightly. He swung me around, and with him, I didn't feel dizzy. He would lean his face with mine and I could feel his breath on my face. My cheeks felt hot and I could feel everyone in the restaurant looking at us with smiles on their faces.
I knew better than anyone that I stepped on Elliot’s feet the whole time, and my hands were always in the wrong places, but Elliot didn’t care at all. He didn’t look injured. I don’t even think he noticed. He looked happier than he ever had been, and during another spin, I caught sight of my reflection in the windows and I saw that in a long time – I was happy too.
"Ready?" Elliot pulled me close, whispering into my ear.
"For what--?"
I didn't even get a chance to finish my sentence, because he let go of my hands, instead wrapping them around my waist, and dropped me so quick, I thought he had actually let me fall. But he caught me, my hair just barely brushing my throat, my heart feeling like it jumped straight into my throat.
We froze in that spot for at least five seconds, the both of us locking glances with each other. Suddenly, his hand on my waist felt very wrong. It wasn't supposed to be there. Then the song started ending and he started swinging me back up, and I was left with a selfish feeling of wanting it all to keep going.
When the song ended, we heard applause from around the restaurant, even the cooks who had stopped to watch us, and especially the elderly couple who were beyond ecstatic. After the dance, our faces were red hot and our hair ruffled.
He propped me back up and reddened. He looked flushed and backed away a few steps. His eyes were all over the place, except on mine. "Sorry, probably shouldn't have done that."
Just like that, it all fizzled away. I tugged at my flyaway pieces of hair, my mind in a whirlwind, and nodded, "Yeah. Um, I'm done with my food if you are."
He cleared his throat, still not looking at me. I could just tell he was feeling guilty. I was, too. "Yeah, I'm done. Let's go?"
The two of us paid and left a tip for our dancing waiter,
When the song ended, we heard applause from around the restaurant, even the cooks who had stopped to watch us, and especially the elderly couple who were beyond ecstatic. After the dance, our faces were red hot and our hair ruffled.
“So. Where’d you learn to dance like that?” I asked Elliot as we left the restaurant, take-out bags in hand.
“My grandma, before she passed away, was a Go-Go girl in the sixties,” Elliot explained. He smiled before saying, “I was the oldest boy in the family, but obviously the wasn’t an excuse not to learn how to do the hustle.”
I laughed along with him, my cheeks still rosy and me still out of breath. “Well, it really did pay off.”
"It has its perks," he replied, his eyes downcast. The neon signs everywhere reflected in his pupils and his hair was lopsided but I didn’t bother straightening it; it wasn’t my job.
We were strolling along Las Vegas Strip, trying to remember where we parked our car last. It was almost eleven thirty, but Elliot wasn’t bothered so I guessed I shouldn’t be either. Graduation would be at noon tomorrow; we still had enough time in Vegas.
“Did you ever take Samantha to a Johnny Rockets and dance with her?” I asked. Elliot’s face straightened out and his laughs faded away. “Oh, I mean. If you don’t mind me asking?” I quickly added, but I mentally slapped myself on the forehead.
“Actually she was never into retro things like that. She didn’t understand it. Like, she told me once when I took her, what was the point of living in the past when we’re obviously not in it? I don’t know, she just never really liked it, I guess,” he shrugged, taking a sip of his to-go milkshake, the noise filling the silent gap between us.
I bit the inside of my cheek and silently nodded.
We didn’t talk for a while; we walked along the streets until we found our parked car, but even though it was only ten thirty, it felt like Vegas was only waking up. There were more people – granted, they were drunk and unpleasant smelling – milling around the casinos.
Elliot unlocked the car and I was about to get in, when I saw something – or rather, someone – familiar walking into the nearest casino. I stood by the open passenger door, narrowing my eyes to squint, but the person had already gone into the building, disappearing.
“Vienna, you okay?” Elliot was already in his seat, buckled up.
I had a strange, foreboding feeling that someone from home was here in Vegas too. “I think I just saw someone from home walk into that casino,” I said slowly.
“Here? In Vegas? I don’t know… you’re probably seeing things,” he suggested.
But my instincts were sporting all sorts of flags. The jacket, the hair, the face… it didn’t seem to add up that this person was in Vegas too. But I had to find out why.
I leaned into the car, but didn’t strap myself in with the seatbelt. “I’ll be right back in ten minutes, tops,” I quickly said, shutting the car door before Elliot had any chance to protest. I followed into the door the person had disappeared into, into what was the Lotus Leaf Casino and Hotel.
But as soon as I walked into the lobby, I knew it was already a lost cause. The casino was packed with people. How could I find the person I was looking for in this massive crowd? There were slot machines everywhere, the bright lights and flashing ping! noises distracting me from my mission. I walked around for a while, trying to spot where they could’ve went, but they were long gone.
Just as I was about to give up and go back to the car, I heard someone call my name above the game slot noises and occasional hoots of joy.
“Vienna? Vienna Dawson?” a girl’s voice called out shrilly.
I stopped, and froze. I slowly turned around, not knowing what or who to expect. Kara? My mother?
“It is, it is her!”
But what I didn’t expect was to see Patricia Willis in all her superficial plastic glory. And I sure as hell didn’t expect her to come sprinting towards me like I was the pizza delivery man and she had been waiting for eighty years, because she wrapped her arms around me so tightly, I thought for a second I was the wrong Vienna Dawson. This was the girl who had her tongue shoved down my boyfriend’s throat for everyone to see. What the hell was she doing?
I stood there, limp and unmoving.
“Vienna! We thought you had died!” Patricia shrieked.
“Uh, no,” I awkwardly replied. “Still breathing. Sort of, after that hug.”
Patricia threw back her hair and laughed, flinging her hand to her chest. “Why are you here? In Vegas, of all places!”
“I could ask you the same thing. Who are you here with?” I asked, because she wasn’t exactly the person I had seen out in the parking lot.
“You mean… you forgot about it?” her face went blank – her normal expression.
I wasn’t catching on. “Forgot what?”
“The Senior trip to Vegas?”
“….I don’t think my mom ever signed that permission slip.”
“You’re so hilarious!” she smiled, laying a hand on my shoulder, her manufactured white teeth enough to blind me. I was becoming weirded out and shied away from her touch. Was it only because Austin had dumped me that she was being nice to me? Because I was no longer a threat? “It wasn’t official, it was just between the seniors. You know, sort of like a celebratory thing. We made the trip, booked the reservations, the whole sitch. We've been here since two days ago. This is our last night.”
I had never even heard about the senior trip to Vegas. If I had, I would never have been here with Elliot because I would have avoided it like the plague. Why hadn't Kara said anything? Was she here too?
“You mean, the whole senior class is here? In a casino? Who supplied all the fake IDs?” I went on to ask. Instantly, my eyes veered to the crowd, and sure enough, I spotted a few familiar faces, some people I catch glimpses of in the halls.
I had meant for it to be a dirt cheap joke, but she didn’t even flinch. “The Troy Brothers. Duh, where have you been? And no, not the whole senior class. Just the ones who matter.”
I nodded, like that made the most perfect sense in the world, but suddenly, there was an anchor weighing my guts down, sinking them right down to my feet. I had a sudden nauseated feeling as it all dawned on me. If Patricia was here, then he surely had to be too. My palms started growing sweaty and I knew, that I was right after all. I had seen him here. He’s probably the only senior who mattered above all.
“So you’re here with—“ I was about to begin, when someone else called out my name.
“Vienna?”
I didn’t even have to look. I knew the twinge of that deep voice anywhere, like the back of my hand. I heard it in every possible way; whether it was filled with unspeakable anger or if it was coming through my phone, sleepy and soft and tempting at four AM. But I did look, and I saw him standing behind me in that jacket I had gotten him for Christmas, the one with the hood and the hidden zippers that he loved a lot. I had thought he had thrown it away.
“Austin.”
* * * *
AUTHORS NOTE WEY-HEY
HELLOOO EVERYONE, yes, i do understand that i am such a horrible person when it comes to updating, and yes, there is no excuse to all this but here's another update :) hopefully you guys like it, i quite literally just sat for five hours, didn't move, didn't get anything to eat at all, and just sat down tih sheer untapped determination to freaking update this book and voila :)
yes, i do know that there are a lot of inconsistincies with this book, but thats mainly because of the sparse updating, and hey, i tend to forget things. but hopefully you still love me and this book bc this book loves you back and vienna and elliot want to say thank you for supporting it, thank you for the votes (FRICK 7,000???) and the lovely, lovely comments.
also, fan art is cool. wanna make me a banner? that'd be rad. that'd be really cool actually. so yeah.
this is unedited, so feel free to point out any mistakes, just don't lose your temper over them.
oh, and dedicated to Debrickshaw101 for her support :) thanks! xo
--paulina