Staying For Good (A Most Likely To Novel Book 2)

by Catherine Bybee

  “A cookbook!” She imagined the inn on the cover, her picture on the back.

  Miss Gina would have guests lining up.

  The thought of the cookbook paying back the woman for all she’d done for her over the years dwarfed the idea of it doing something for her own career.

  “A cookbook.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  It was easy to spring for a suite in Vegas when Zoe knew many of the celebrity chefs in town.

  She and the girls took a room at the Venetian, while the men parked themselves at Caesars. The hotels weren’t that far apart, but with thousands of guests walking around, it would be close to impossible for them to cross paths.

  Mel’s brother, Mark, flew down from Seattle to join Wyatt and Luke.

  A welcome basket of fruit and wine sat on the coffee table in the sitting room of their suite, compliments of Chef Owen, whose name was given to one of the restaurants on the canal linking several of the casinos together. Along with the wine was the offering of dinner and drinks, complimentary, of course.

  “It’s crazy,” Zoe said, setting aside the note that came with the wine. “When I couldn’t afford a meal, no one was willing to pay, now that I can, everyone wants to treat me.”

  Jo pulled a fresh strawberry out of the mix and nibbled the end. “I like your friends.”

  Mel stood before the open blinds overlooking the Vegas strip. “This view is spectacular.”

  Zoe pulled up space beside her friend and draped an arm over her shoulders. “After the year you’ve had, you deserve it.”

  Mel placed her head on Zoe’s shoulder and thanked her without words.

  Jo slipped in, a hand on Zoe’s other shoulder. “So what are we going to do first?”

  Zoe turned and removed the bottle of champagne chilling in the bucket. “A toast.”

  She ripped the foil from the bottle and gently pulled the cork, not spilling a drop before filling glasses.

  “To Wyatt and Mel?” Jo asked.

  Zoe shook her head. “No, there’s time for that next month. Tonight is about us.” Zoe lifted her glass and the others followed suit. “We didn’t do too bad. I have a feeling the best is yet to come.”

  Jo clicked her glass to Mel’s, and Zoe pushed in.

  “To us!” Mel drank first, then let out a huge squeal. “We’re in Vegas!”

  “This is going to be so much fun.”

  Zoe glanced at her watch and set her glass down. “Okay, ladies. Our day is about to begin. Grab your purses.”

  Jo looked at Mel. “Where are we going?”

  “The spa! Duh!”

  Mel squealed again and beat them to the door.

  “I’ll take the couch.” Mark dropped his bag on the floor after walking past the two double beds in the room.

  Luke offered a weak protest. “You don’t have to. I can—”

  “Bad back. It’s better for me.”

  Wyatt shoved his bag on a bed and opened the minibar. He pulled out three beers and handed them around. “I haven’t been here in years.”

  “I can beat that!” Luke had always wanted to go but never found the time or the playmates. He opened a basket on the side table that had his name on the tag.

  “What’s that?”

  He dug through the wrapping and found a bottle of Irish whiskey, several bags of nuts, and gourmet crackers along with a note. Zoe tells me you’ve never been to Vegas. Here is a card to get you into the players club. Tell them Felix sent you. And remember, it’s not Vegas if you’re sober. Drink up!

  “I like Zoe’s friends.”

  Wyatt removed the whiskey and ditched his beer. “Now we’re talking.”

  “What’s on the agenda, gentlemen?”

  Luke lifted the get into the club card. “Gambling or strip club?”

  Mark’s eyes lit up. “Yes and yes!”

  “Oh, my God! This is amazing.” Mel’s muffled words drifted through the room where all three of them lay facedown on massage tables while masseuses removed all the tension of their flights.

  “Miss Gina needs to offer this at the inn.”

  Zoe lifted her face long enough to glance at Jo. “That’s not a bad idea.”

  Zoe’s technician found a knot under her shoulder and she moaned.

  “This is my first professional massage,” Mel told them.

  “That’s a shame,” Jo’s tech said.

  “Mine, too.”

  “That’s just not right.” Here Zoe had less than of both them growing up and more experiences with some of the finer things in life than either of them.

  “Where do you ladies live?”

  Jo and Mel said River Bend at the same time.

  Zoe explained in plain English. “Nowhere-ville Oregon.”

  “I have to go to Waterville to get a pedicure,” Mel told them.

  “I don’t bother,” Jo said.

  “Pedicures are the best.”

  “Only when you’re wearing open toed shoes,” Jo reminded her. “I wear boots.”

  “Not this weekend, you’re not. Pedicures are next, and if you don’t have shoes, we’re going shopping.”

  Jo huffed.

  “I don’t want to hear it. Little black dresses and men we don’t know buying our drinks.”

  Zoe’s tech spoke up. “Sounds like one of you knows how to do Vegas.”

  “They’ll learn.”

  “Men slip shit into drinks,” Jo warned.

  “You let them pay for drinks, Jo . . . but you don’t let them hand the drinks to you.” Zoe had been around the block a few times. “Besides, you’re the only one of us bound to pick up someone tonight.”

  “I wanna see that,” Mel said.

  “You should have seen the guy in Dallas. He was hot,” Zoe told her.

  “He certainly was!”

  Jo had them laughing and talking about dick size.

  The technicians snickered and kept their comments to themselves.

  “Remind me to thank this Felix guy when I meet him.” Wyatt was doing what every self-respecting bachelor did at his bachelor party weekend in Vegas: he was glossy eyed and well on his way to passing out.

  Luke slipped water into Wyatt’s mix to keep the man sober enough to enjoy the night.

  Felix’s name had managed to not only get them into the players club, but also secure them two long-legged, beautiful women wearing nothing more than bathing suits in high heels serving them drinks and tutoring Luke on the game of craps. Wyatt tried to teach him, but he kept losing his concentration. Didn’t stop the man from earning a little money, however. Mark made his way to a roulette table while Luke took the best man position and kept an eye on Wyatt.

  The man at the head of the table tossed the dice and everyone cheered.

  “Did we win?” Luke asked Cici, his scantily clad escort, compliments of Felix.

  “You did.”

  “Should I leave the chips there?”

  She shrugged. “I would.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “Do you gamble?”

  “God, no. I work too hard for my money.”

  He found himself laughing.

  “Of course . . . I live here. I think once in a while might be okay.”

  “I’m not your boss, sweetheart. I appreciate your honesty.”

  She batted her fake eyelashes and smiled.

  The crowd at the table cheered again.

  “Still winning?”

  Cici winked, leaned her boobs into his arm, and whispered so only he could hear, “I’d consider leaving while I was ahead.”

  Luke pulled Wyatt from the table, both of them up five hundred dollars . . . how the hell that happened, he had no idea. He made sure Cici and her friend were tipped well, with the promise of returning the next night.

  The three of them made their way out of the casino in search of food. It was full dark and at least eighty-five degrees. At least there wasn’t any humidity making their shirts stick to their bodies.

  The bright lights of the strip adde
d heat to an already hot night. Street vendors sold ice-cold water at a buck a pop while questionable men passed out tiny cards with naked women on them promising a good time. There were homeless people sitting beside cups saying they needed to eat, and parents pulling kids away from the women wearing nothing but pasties over their privates and suggesting a tip for a picture.

  “This place is crazy.”

  “More so as the night wears on, my friend.” Mark obviously knew his way around.

  Luke wondered how the women were doing and stopped himself from removing his phone from his pocket to ask.

  Mark guided them to a big meal, which helped pull some of the alcohol from Wyatt’s system. It was just past ten and the night was about to begin.

  Zoe didn’t give two shits about the myth that what happens in Vegas stays there . . . her cell phone was out and she was doing her level best to take as many pictures of Mel’s red face and laughing lips as she could.

  The early twentysomething man wiggling his thong-covered ass in front of the bachelorette was worth every bill she shoved in his face. Or thong, as the case stood. The revue was known to mimic the themes seen on a popular movie franchise, and Zoe made sure Mel was front and center as a team of men did their best to act out sex on stage.

  The women in the audience cheered and tossed money like it was weeds from a garden.

  The men on stage flirted shamelessly and strutted around like peacocks.

  “We have got to come back,” Jo yelled above the crowd.

  Zoe bumped fists with her friend and snapped another shot of Mel for future use.

  The woman on the pole managed to twist her legs so far up that she stretched her torso, lifted her hands, and they still didn’t reach the floor.

  Luke couldn’t help but wonder how her tits stayed inside her outfit.

  The men watching were just as enamored as he was . . . most silent, with a few shouting out cheers. The music kept thumping and the women on stage had no trouble letting men slip bills into the small space between their thongs and their asses.

  “Are those real?” Luke asked.

  “I doubt it,” Mark said at his side.

  When the fiery redhead on stage slipped off her top and nothing moved, the fact she’d spent time at a plastic surgeon was proven. Not that it kept him from enjoying the show.

  Loud music filled the after-party, along with wall-to-wall bodies dancing.

  Zoe kept an eye on Mel, who’d had more to drink than all of them. She laughed on the dance floor and accepted the water Zoe kept handing her. “You’re the best.”

  “Just don’t puke.”

  Mel slapped a hand on Zoe’s shoulder. “I’m not that drunk.”

  The man dancing by her side heard her and turned with a smile. “She’s engaged,” Zoe said.

  He didn’t seem to care. “Can I buy you a drink?”

  Zoe pulled Mel away and moved to another part of the bar so they could dance.

  Somewhere around three, Luke dragged Wyatt and Mark into a restaurant and had them eating breakfast. After, they stumbled into their room and didn’t stir until housekeeping knocked on the door around noon.

  “I wonder how the guys are doing?” Mel wore dark sunglasses and sat under the cabana by the pool.

  “I doubt they’re even awake,” Zoe said, sipping her Bloody Mary.

  It was noon, and the poolside party was just starting.

  Jo turned over and let her pale skin see the sun for the first time in what looked like forever. “I’m taking a nap . . . don’t let me burn.”

  Zoe glanced at her watch and made a mental note to cover her friend in twenty minutes or douse her with sunscreen.

  Hours later, when the three of them had filled their veins with a loading dose of alcohol and had Mel wrapped in a boa with the fake tiara every bride-to-be deserved in Vegas, Zoe’s cell phone rang in her tiny purse.

  She ignored it, only to find it ringing again.

  Expecting to see Luke or maybe Wyatt checking on them, she was shocked to see Miss Gina’s inn flash on the screen.

  She turned away from Jo and Mel, who were accepting Jell-O shots like they were teenagers, and answered the phone.

  “Hey, lady.”

  “Zoe?”

  The music in the bar was too loud to hear every word. “Is everything okay?”

  “Zoe, hon . . .”

  She didn’t hear a thing Miss Gina was saying, but her tone said something was wrong.

  “Hold on.”

  Zoe pushed away from the crowd and out into the street, which was marginally better this early in the Vegas night.

  “What’s going on?”

  “I don’t know how to tell you this.”

  The hair on Zoe’s arms stood on end as she waited.

  “It’s your dad.”

  Air escaped her lungs. “Oh, no.”

  “He’s out, Zoe. Zanya called and told me your mom brought him home.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Jo watched as Zoe slipped out of the bar with a phone to her ear. She didn’t think much of it until she returned fifteen minutes later and started pounding drinks. All weekend she’d been pacing herself, making sure none of them got wasted. A nice break for Jo, since that was normally her role once she took the badge.

  Only now she watched Zoe accept her first Jell-O shot of the night and follow it with a round of tequila.

  There was something different about her friend’s smile. She flirted with the guy who’d been trying to capture her attention since they’d walked in.

  Jo took a moment to text Luke.

  Have you talked to Zoe?

  There were plenty of bodies between Jo and Zoe. Mel was talking with a group of other women celebrating the same thing they were.

  Luke answered. Not since we dropped you off at the hotel.

  When Zoe grabbed a second shot of tequila in the time it took to text Luke, Jo knew something was seriously wrong.

  Jo told Luke where they were and suggested the men head over.

  If he questioned her, he didn’t do so with a text.

  The next time she glanced at her cell phone, it was a message from Deputy Emery.

  Ziggy Brown is back in town.

  Jo’s arm reached out and stopped Mel from taking another swig of her drink.

  “What?”

  Jo flashed the message on her screen in Mel’s face.

  They both twisted around to lay eyes on Zoe.

  The thing about drinking when you were an adult was the unique ability to sober up in a heartbeat when needed. There was always that point where you were too far gone . . . but most of the time, unless the sky had fallen, you could pull yourself out of the fog to focus.

  It helped that Luke had been pacing himself, since the headache he woke with that morning wasn’t something he wanted to repeat. The flight back home wouldn’t treat his seatmates well if he overindulged. He left that for Wyatt and hoped that when it came time for him to celebrate his last days of being a bachelor, someone would look out for him.

  Instead of telling Wyatt where they were going and why, Luke did what he’d been doing all weekend: he directed.

  The taxi drove them to the hotel that housed the nightclub. Jo had told him where they were. Zoe was a beacon . . . her dark hair flowed down her back, her laughter sounded animated in a room full of music and plenty of overindulging adults.

  It was obvious to him the man by her side was doing everything he could to get her drunk . . . it seemed to be working.

  Luke caught Jo’s eyes, and she nodded toward her friend.

  Mel jumped out of her seat and into Wyatt’s chest. “Hey, sexy.”

  Luke moved aside as Wyatt grabbed his future bride and pulled her into his arms.

  Zoe caught the scene and looked around.

  Her eyes landed on Luke, and she blew past the man working to get her naked and wrapped an arm around him. “What are you doing here?”

  She was one drink shy of stumbling. “I need my girl.�
� He let the lie sound good.

  “Hey, dude.” The guy at her side stepped in.

  Zoe started to laugh, and Jo took that moment to slide between them. “Don’t.”

  The guy took a step forward, and Luke saw Jo remove something from her purse.

  “Whatever, man.”

  Jo turned with a nod in Luke’s direction and tapped her cell phone in her hand.

  “Buy me a drink,” Zoe told him.

  Luke lifted his hand to capture the bartender’s attention.

  “Have you ladies had a good time?” As he asked, he removed his phone from his back pocket, hoping there would be some clue as to why Wyatt and Mel were staring at them like the earth had just shattered and he was oblivious.

  “It’s fabulous. Mel needs to get married every year.”

  “I don’t think that’s the plan.”

  Jo’s message was quick and to the point.

  Ziggy Brown is back in River Bend.

  Suddenly everyone’s expressions made sense and Zoe’s lack of sobriety was understood.

  Instead of calling her out, Luke ordered a round of drinks and stuck by Zoe’s side the rest of the night. Reality would crash in the morning.

  He’d be there to help pick up the pieces if she let him.

  The girls’ suite at the Venetian was twice as big as theirs.

  Luke was fairly certain Zoe was oblivious to the fact that she was shitfaced drunk while everyone else had sobered up and was talking in a separate room while she slept.

  “How the hell did this happen?” Luke voiced the question to Jo, not that it was her fault that Ziggy had managed to get out of jail.

  “I don’t know. I’ll be on the phone Monday to figure out what kind of shit he pulled to get out.”

  “Fifteen to life . . . doesn’t that mean he’s there forever?” Mel’s question hung in the air.

  “Obviously not, hon.” Wyatt held her close.

  “Ziggy is one mean motherfucker,” Mark chimed in. “I remember him pulling Sheryl out of Sam’s by the hair one night, yelling that she hadn’t made him dinner.”

  “I don’t remember that,” Mel said.