Lost in Las Vegas (13 page)

DJ reluctantly took the dress off the hanger and carefully unzipped it. “This is a Vera Wang. It must’ve cost a fortune — ”

“Don’t freak, DJ. It was my mom’s. She probably got it for free — or nearly. Anyway, she doesn’t like it.”

“And she doesn’t mind if I wear it?”

”No, of course not. I’d wear it myself, except that it’s too tight,” Taylor thrust out her well-endowed chest, “and my girls don’t like feeling restrained.”

DJ laughed, then slipped on the dress. Although it was pretty short, she had to admit that it was somewhat conservative in the neckline. Kind of a Jackie O look, really. “Not bad,” she said as she checked it out in the mirror.

“It’s perfect for you.” Taylor nodded. “And I have the perfect shoes to go with it.”

“Wow,” said DJ when she saw Taylor adjusting a strap of her ruby-red satin dress. “You look really hot.”

Taylor held her head high. “I certainly hope so.” She joined DJ in front of the mirror. “The question is do I look hotter than you?” Now she frowned as if unsure.

“Of course, you do,” said DJ quickly. “You always do.”

“I don’t know . . .” Taylor frowned. “Blondes in black . . . I should’ve thought this one through a little better.”

“It’s not like we’re competing. And what about brunettes in red? Shouldn’t there be a rule against it?”

Taylor smiled smugly. “I do look hot, don’t I?”

DJ nodded.

“And we haven’t even done makeup or accessories yet.”

Taylor pulled open a couple of bathroom drawers, and the two girls continued to primp. DJ decided to keep her accessories simple, which Taylor agreed was the right thing. “Sophisticated and understated,” she told DJ. “Should we put your hair up, to help hide those damaged ends?”

DJ gave her long blonde hair a shake. “I think it’s fine down.”

“Fine, if you like going around with chlorine-zapped hair.”

“Whatever. Put it up if you want. But you know that I’m hopeless when it comes to doing hair.”

“We need Rhiannon here.” Taylor grabbed a brush and attacked DJ’s hair, brushing and brushing and finally twisting it into a fairly nice-looking style. “How’s that?”

“Not bad.”

Now Taylor swept her dark curls up into a tumbled sort of do with tendrils hanging down here and there. Next she helped DJ with her makeup. “Looks like you got a little too much sun,” she observed as she applied some eye shadow. DJ still couldn’t get the hang of eye shadow.

“Do I look burnt?” asked DJ.

“A little pink. But it’ll probably tan out.”

DJ looked at Taylor’s perfect bronze skin. “I wish I had your coloring.”

Taylor laughed. “If I had a dollar for every time I heard that line.”

“It’s not a line. Your skin is gorgeous, and you know it.”

Taylor shrugged. “It’s not everyone’s cup of tea.”

“Viva la difference
.”

Taylor smiled into the mirror now. “We actually make a good pair — complementary coloring, you know.”

DJ struck a pose. “Yes, we are rather striking, aren’t we?”

“We’ll knock ’em dead.”

“By the way,” said DJ. “I don’t want Arden thinking that this is a date. He doesn’t, does he?”

“Who knows what he thinks?”

“Well, it’s not a date,” said DJ firmly.

“What difference does it make?”

“I just don’t want him to think that I’m into him, because I’m not.”

“You don’t think he’s good-looking?”

“Of course, he’s good-looking. But there’s Conner. Remember?”

Taylor chuckled. “And remember, what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas.”

“Nothing like that is going to happen to me.”

“You never know.” Taylor gave herself a final squirt of a perfume that looked expensive and smelled exotic.

The plan was to meet the guys downstairs, and since Eva was performing in the hotel, they could simply walk. Naturally, Taylor paired off with Tony, which left DJ and Arden together — like a couple.

“You look great,” said Arden as they walked behind Taylor and Tony.

“Thanks.”

“The guys back at our frat aren’t going to believe this.”

“Believe what?” asked DJ.

“That we took out the two hottest babes in Vegas. Professional models.”

DJ stopped walking now and turned to Arden. “That’s not exactly how it is.”

“Huh?”

“I mean, yes, we are modeling. But you need to understand — ”

“DJ!” Taylor had turned around and was calling to her. “Come on, we need to get in there before they close the doors.”

Arden linked his arm in DJ’s and hurried her along to catch up.

“I’ll explain later,” she told him as she tried to keep up. Her leg, although healed, still hurt sometimes, and running in high heels was not helping one bit.

As it turned out, Taylor was right. They were about to close the doors, and the four of them made it just in time.

“We’re down in front,” said Taylor.

“Wow, great seats,” said Arden as they slipped past others who were already seated. And then the lights went down and the music started. Suddenly, there was Eva in a perfectly round spotlight. She began to sing, and DJ wasn’t sure if she’d ever heard anything more beautiful. Really, it was nothing short of amazing. And to think DJ was sharing a penthouse suite with that woman and her daughter.

“That was spectacular,” gushed DJ when the foursome emerged from the theater. “Your mother is incredible, Taylor.”

“So I’ve heard.”

“She’s amazing,” said Arden. “I’m going to get some of her CDs.”

“My parents are going to be so jealous,” said Tony. “Thanks for inviting us, Taylor.”

“And to show our thanks, we made dinner reservations,” said Arden.

“You girls hungry?” asked Tony.

“I’m starving,” said Taylor.

“Me too,” admitted DJ. Okay, this still didn’t make it a date, but no way was DJ going to say no to food tonight.

After they were seated in what appeared to be a very elegant, and probably expensive, restaurant, Arden turned to DJ. “You were about to tell me something on our way to the concert.”

DJ glanced over to see Taylor giving her a narrowed-eye warning, and so DJ decided to play it safe. “What?” she said absently.

“Something you were about to say?”

DJ shrugged. “I don’t recall. Maybe it wasn’t important.”

The waiter appeared and asked what they wanted to drink. Without blinking, Taylor ordered a cosmo. And the waiter didn’t ask for ID. Then Tony and Arden both ordered pale ale. “And you, miss?” The waiter looked at DJ, probably guessing that she was underage. Although she didn’t know why he hadn’t carded the others.

“A Pelligrino, please.” The only reason DJ knew about this brand of bottled water was because her grandmother wouldn’t dream of drinking water straight from the tap. At least it sounded somewhat grown-up. Not that DJ cared or felt the need to impress anyone. Mostly she was aggravated — and hungry. After dinner, when she was alone with Taylor, she would have to establish some ground rules about drinking. Although, to be honest, DJ wasn’t even sure what they would be. It wasn’t as if she could force Taylor to knock it off. But at the same time, it seemed wrong to say nothing. Wouldn’t that be like condoning it? Now she was curious about these two college dudes. It was entirely possible that they too were underage.

“So, how do you guys like Stanford?” she asked when there was a break in conversation. They gave her pretty generic answers, which almost made her wonder if they actually went to Stanford. Maybe, like Taylor, they were putting on a big act.

“What year are you?” she asked.

The guys exchanged quick glances, then Tony answered. “Seniors.”

DJ nodded. “What’s your major?”

Taylor laughed now. “What is this, DJ? The Spanish Inquisition?”

Tony laughed too. “Yeah, for a minute there I thought I was talking to my mom.”

Arden just smiled. “No big deal. I’m a GES major.”

“What’s that?” asked DJ.

“A glorified rock hound,” teased Tony.

“Geological and environmental sciences.”

DJ nodded. “Impressive.”

“He wants to save the planet,” said Tony.

“Nothing wrong with that,” said DJ.

“Okay, you guys,” said Taylor as the drinks arrived. “Time to lighten up.”

DJ felt slightly relieved to know that Arden seemed like a legitimate college student with a respectable major. But if he was a senior, he was at least five years older than she was, and that made her even more uncomfortable. She knew she wasn’t really doing anything wrong, but how would she feel if Conner got wind of the fact that she was here right now? On the other hand, she remembered what Taylor had said about snow bunnies in Montana. Of course, that was silly. Conner was on a family ski trip. She was in Las Vegas — unsupervised and with Taylor! Very different situations indeed.

Now the waiter was taking their orders, and Taylor was going all out by ordering lobster. “You guys don’t have to get the bill,” she told Tony lightly. “We can go Dutch.”

“Yes,” said DJ eagerly. “Dutch is fine.”

“No way,” said Tony. “This is our treat. A thank you for the great concert.”

So DJ went ahead and ordered a New York steak. Not to be spiteful, but because she was hungry.

“I like women who aren’t afraid to eat,” said Arden.

“I always thought models were more along the anorexic lines,” admitted Tony.

Taylor laughed. “A lot of them are. Not me. I think all things are good in moderation.”

DJ nearly choked on her water. Yeah, right. Moderation. That was a good one coming from Taylor.

Dinner turned out to be pretty good. Afterward, DJ made it clear that she was worn out. “Spending the night at O’Hare was pretty exhausting,” she told them. “If you don’t mind, I think I’ll call it a night.”

“Not me,” said Taylor.

DJ frowned. Did this mean she needed to stick around and make sure that Taylor stayed out of trouble?

“It’s only ten,” pointed out Arden. “And this is Las Vegas, you know, the city that never sleeps.”

“You can sleep in the morning, DJ,” said Tony.

“Come on,” urged Taylor. “Can’t you just hang on until midnight?”

DJ considered this. “If I hang on until midnight, will you be ready to hang it up then?”

Taylor grinned. “Sure.”

Okay, there was no way to know if Taylor was being sincere or not, but DJ decided to hold her to it. “Fine, but at midnight, we’re done, okay?”

“Great,” said Arden. “This is our last night in Vegas, and we need to do it up right.”

“Yep,” said Tony sadly. “Gotta be home for the holidays.”

“I heard there’s a great band at House of Blues tonight,” suggested Arden.

“Sounds good to me,” said Taylor.

But when they got to the club, DJ noticed that there was a security guy checking for ID. “Hey,” she said to Taylor, “They’re carding.”

“So?” Taylor gave her a blank look.

“So . . . I don’t have ID.”

Now Taylor acted surprised, obviously an act for the guys. “Oh, crud, did you leave your wallet in the room, DJ?”

“I just — ”

“Don’t worry. I’m sure they’ll let you in.” Taylor smiled with confidence.

“They just card the ones who look too young,” said Tony. “You’ll be fine.”

But as it turned out, they were all carded. Taylor, with her fake ID, had no problem waltzing on past. And apparently the guys passed muster as well, because now they were all on the other side of the red velvet cord. Only DJ remained, and suddenly she just wanted to bolt.

“I don’t have ID,” she admitted, ready to spill the beans . . . and how sorry she was . . . and how she’d never try this again. But then Taylor smoothly stepped back over, and with a perfectly manicured nail, she tapped the security dude on the chest, smiling directly into his beady eyes as if he was the best thing she’d ever seen in uniform. Okay, it wasn’t really a uniform, just a stupid T-shirt with SECURITY across the front. Subtle.

“My friend left her ID upstairs in the penthouse,” she cooed to the stocky man. “But, please tell me you’re not going to make her go all the way up to the top floor to get it.”

“She’s with us,” said Arden, like he was a rock star. “Can’t you see she’s obviously over twenty-one?”

“Yeah,” added Tony. “She’s a professional model, you know, doesn’t she get some kind of respect for being a celebrity?” As if that had anything to do with breaking the law.

“Or should we take these girls to another club,” added Arden, “where they’ll be appreciated?”

The guard’s brows drew together. DJ was ready to make a run for it — and she knew she could be fast, even in heels — but she imagined the guard grabbing her and holding her until the cops showed up. Then, with everyone watching, they’d put her into cuffs and haul her downtown and throw her into the cooler, or whatever they called it.