Lattes & Lace

by Annora Green

  “I’m not an official guest. I don’t really feel the need to partake in all of the activities,” she shrugged.

  “Oh, please,” Sophia said, pushing the glass towards her. “Try it.”

  “No,” Ari said, scrunching up her nose.

  “You’re at this table. When in Rome, do as the Roman bachelorettes would do,” Sophia mocked.

  “Touché.” Ari reached for the glass, sniffed it, took a sip and promptly recoiled as much as Sophia had.

  “Yeah, I definitely do not want to be in Rome right now,” she said, giving the glass back to Sophia. Sophia pushed it towards the middle of the table, where it could hopefully disappear amongst the clutter of bread baskets and empty glasses.

  “Not so fast. Maybe you should finish it,” said Ari. “Might help with the next activity Rachel has planned.”

  “You mean this mystery show that we’re all going to see?” Sophia asked.

  Ari nodded, an amused grin forming.

  “What do you know about it?” Sophia asked suspiciously.

  “Two words. Thunder Mountain.”

  “What does that even mean?”

  “It means you’re seeing an adult-only vaudeville show with exclusively male performers called Thunder Mountain.”

  Sophia scrunched up her nose in disgust.

  “Why the hell did I give Rachel free reign over this party planning? I knew I should have audited her work,” Sophia said.

  “What, in between your endless meetings and deadlines, you were going to go over plans with Rachel about what strip show she was going to take your sister and her eccentric group of friends to?”

  Sophia groaned. “No, probably not. But is all of this really necessary?”

  “You said your sister would want an over-the-top bachelorette party,” Ari reminded her.

  “I did,” Sophia admitted as the waiter was directed towards her with the dinner bill.

  “And it’s pretty much the most classic part of a traditional bachelorette party to see a show or entertainment activity of some sort where men get really naked,” Ari continued.

  Sophia glanced at the bill, then passed her Black card to the man, who promptly swiped it.

  “Lucky me,” sighed Sophia.

  After the group stumbled out of the restaurant, Rachel handed them all their tickets. The paper tickets were adorned with the photos of several shirtless men who looked like they had spent the better part of their life popping steroids.

  “This shouldn’t be legal,” Sophia murmured, while the rest of the group squealed and laughed like a group of teenagers.

  “Lighten up,” Ari teased lightly. “Wouldn’t have thought you’d be such a prude.”

  Sophia scowled.

  “I’ll see you later,” Ari said to her as Rachel directed the fully re-energized group towards their next destination.

  Sophia looked up. “You’re not coming with us to this?”

  Ari shook her head and laughed. “It’s not really my kind of show.”

  “Right,” Sophia said. “Nor is it mine.”

  “It’s your sister,” Ari urged. “Go be supportive, you’ve only got about 40 hours left of this weekend. You can do it.”

  “Come with us,” Sophia pleaded. “You’re the only sane one in this group that I can talk to. And the only sober one,” she said, eyeing the group of women.

  Ari laughed. “I actually do already have some plans with friends tonight, otherwise I might have taken pity on you and come along.”

  “Friends? Here?”

  Ari nodded. “Yep. I used to work here, remember?

  “Right.Anna,” Sophia said.

  “Well, my friends know my real name. But yeah, they’re friends from a few years back. I promised I’d see them while I’m in town. You have fun at the show,” she said, walking away quickly now, waving and disappearing into the throngs of people.

  Sophia reluctantly followed the group to their next destination.

  They were seated in a VIP area – who knew such a thing existed at what was essentially a glorified strip show – and served unlimited champagne, which Sophia wondered if her stomach could handle at this point after an afternoon and evening of drinking. Still, as soon as she saw the throngs of slightly tipsy women enter and seat themselves around her and she overheard her sister proclaim that she would go home with one of the performers in the show that weekend because, after all, what happens in Vegas... Sophia gladly accepted a glass of bubbly, if for no reason other than to focus on something other than her present surroundings.

  She was not sure at what point she started to feel nauseous. It was perhaps the first few minutes into the opening act, which was a cringe-worthy homage to some nondescript Broadway show. Or maybe it was during the trapeze artist’s performance, or, finally, the men in the cowboy uniforms doing the Can-Can. The room grew blurry around the edges, and she started to feel the Italian food churning in her stomach, the taste of garlic rising in her throat.

  Sophia excused herself, pushing her way through the endless row of hollering and cheering women in their flashing pins, tiaras and bedazzled shoes, and had never felt so glad to burst into a quiet lobby.

  “Bathroom?” she asked an usher standing near the doors.

  The woman pointed off to the side, and despite every flashing neon sign making her headache worse, her temples throbbing and nausea still bubbling in her stomach, she made it to the ladies’ room.

  She stood in a bathroom stall for a few minutes, and as she listened to the hum of an air vent and felt the cool air circulating in the empty room, the nausea subsided. She found some peppermints in her purse, but she wished she had some water. That was all she wanted. Water, and maybe some saltines. She could not remember the last time she had drunk - or eaten - so much. Possibly never. And such strange mixtures, too. Not a piece of kale or detox juice in front of her all day. And so, so many carbs and so much butter. No wonder she felt horrendous.

  When she was confident she was going to make it out without getting sick, she left the stall and washed her hands, then arms, and splashed some cool water on her face – though not too much, she didn’t want to completely remove her makeup – took a deep breath, and went back out into the lobby.

  She could step outside, she decided, but as soon as she did, she regretted it. She was still a little tipsy from all of the alcohol, and the heat of the night and the endless neon flashing lights threatened to trigger her nausea again.

  She had no idea where she was. She could pull up a map up on her phone, she thought, but she wasn’t sure she remembered the name of their hotel to navigate back to. Panache, wasn’t it called? It was hidden within a larger hotel. She just had to find the big hotel. But where was the corridor? Past the bigger hotel’s lobby? She only remembered the long hallway with the glass mosaics. Then, there was the issue of getting into the penthouse. She was not sure she even had her own key.

  It would be no good trying to make her way back.

  Instead, she decided she needed to think more clearly, and get something caffeinated, along with some water. Her throat was parched. She pulled up the maps on her phone and typed in “good coffee.”

  She expected some generic coffee chain to pop up, but to her surprise, a block away there was a place called “Second Wind Café + Bistro.”

  Perfect name, Sophia thought, skimming the first review that popped up, which promised that the place had the BEST coffee in Vegas.

  She teetered along the crowded sidewalks and tried to look straight ahead so she wouldn’t be subject to too many of the moving flashing lights, and walking directly toward the massive hotel in which the Second Wind Cafe was supposed to be located.

  Five minutes later, she found the little café, tucked away in a small plaza. It was late at night, but all of the stores were open, and Second Wind was bustling.

  The smell of coffee instantly perked her up, and before long, Sophia had ordered a large Americano and a glass bottle of imported carbonated water, which was ser
ved to her by a waiter in a crisp white shirt. She had never been so happy to see a clothed man in her life.

  The Americano, chased with a generous dose of bubbly water, brought her back to life. The café had given her a small plate of little shortbread cookies, and she tentatively nibbled at one. Between that and the water, her stomach was finally settling.

  “Sophia?”

  Sophia looked up. For a brief moment, she was completely unsurprised to be sipping coffee and find Ari standing next to her table. But then she remembered where she was, and that Ari was with an unfamiliar dark-haired man about their age in a plaid shirt. There was also a pretty dark haired woman, who was dressed in a blue shirt and sequined skirt, walking towards them.

  “Hey. What are you doing here?” Ari asked, concerned.

  “I left the show,” Sophia said, her voice cracking a bit. “I felt a little ill.”

  “That must have been some show,” Ari said. “We’re just heading out. Wanna join us?”

  “Um, sure,” Sophia said, not sure what else to say.

  “Great,” Ari said. “Sophia, these are two of my old friends, Nate – I met him a long time ago, at my first job back home in California – and Rose, also a former coworker, but we met when I worked here in Vegas.”

  They all shook hands, and as they made light small talk, Sophia hoped she didn’t look as big of a mess as she felt.

  “Hey, Ar, I’ll go grab the car, you wait outside near the West entrance and I’ll pick you up in a few minutes?” Nate suggested.

  “Sure, thanks,” Ari replied.

  “And I’m taking off,” Rose said. “Nice to meet you, Sophia, and enjoy the rest of your weekend here.”

  “I don’t mean to impose on your night,” Sophia said apologetically as she and Ari walked out. “I’m just not sure how to get back to our hotel, so perhaps you could point me in the right direction and I’ll make my own way back?”

  “It’s no big deal. We’re going back to Nate’s place. He makes this great anti-hangover smoothie, perfect after a long night. It’ll have you fixed up in no time.”

  “You’re going to Nate’s place?” Sophia asked, raising an eyebrow and slowing her pace. “Really, I don’t want to impose at all.”

  Ari shook her head. “You’re not, trust me. We’re just old friends. And actually, it’s not exactly Nate’s place. I mean, he rents it. But it’s my house.”

  “You own a house? Here?”

  “It was an investment a bunch of years ago. I hate paying rent. So this house came along, and I lived in the living room in a sleeping bag for a few months and fixed it up and planned on flipping it for a profit, but then the housing market crashed and I just held onto it, rented it out to Nate,” she said. “Nate’s taken over most of the place, but I still keep a loft area on the second floor for myself, so I have a place to crash when I’m in town.”

  “Were you going to stay there instead of our penthouse party house?” Sophia asked.

  Ari nodded. “You bet. I told Rachel she could crash there, too, but I guess she has her own friends in town, so she made other arrangements.”

  “You’re making me feel left out for not having a whole second life here in Vegas. It would be so much more convenient for those times I don’t want to spend the night with my sister at her bachelorette parties,” Sophia commented.

  “You don’t really look like you’re in much shape to go back to that hotel,” Sophia said. “And I’m sorry to say it, but the night Rachel has planned for everyone doesn’t exactly end with the Thunder Mountain show.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “Yeah, I’m not. Anyways, stay at my place if you want. Recharge a bit so you can get back into supportive Maid of Honor mode tomorrow,” Ari urged, walking towards a black SUV that had pulled up along the curb.

  Sophia followed her. “I really don’t mean to impose,” she said again, not wanting to seem rude, or ruin Ari’s night or plans in any way.

  “Get in, m’lady,” Ari ordered, smiling and holding open the backseat door for Sophia.

  ¨°¨

  Ari’s quiet suburban house was not a place Sophia pictured Ari living. It was a small, ranch style house. Relatively plain outside, it was open and light inside, with one great room and a little hall that led into what Sophia presumed were the bedrooms. There was a stairway that led upstairs to an open loft, and a high ceiling made most of the space feel airy.

  The decor was what struck Sophia as being more like Ari. It was cozy and bohemian: there were musical instruments scattered around, artwork on the walls, blankets and rugs that seemed to have been lovingly collected over time.

  “Sorry for the mess,” Nate said, moving around the living room and picking up guitars and books that were scattered around.

  Ari walked towards a vintage record player and put on what sounded like classic blues. It was easy to listen to and welcome after the onslaught of over-the-top entertainment and stimulation they had been subject to all day.

  Nate went to the kitchen and got out a blender.

  “No drinks for me, thank you,” Sophia said.

  He looked up. “This isn’t an alcoholic drink. It’s my hangover cure. Or, in your case, pre-hangover cure. Don’t worry, nothing weird. It’s mostly ginger and honey and a couple of things that’ll be easy on your stomach and make life more tolerable tomorrow morning.”

  Sophia raised her eyebrows skeptically.

  “I’ll give it a try,” she said.

  Ari disappeared up into the loft and Sophia perched at a barstool at the counter.

  “Sophia, you’ll stay up here,” Ari called down a few minutes later. “I’ll stay in Nate’s spare bedroom.”

  “Good luck finding the bed,” Nate called up. “I’ve been using that room as my computer room.”

  “You know I’m not picky about where I sleep,” Ari called back down.

  “That’s an understatement,” Nate joked.

  “Hey!” Ari called. “That’s the pot calling the kettle black.”

  Nate grinned and started the blender.

  Ari returned downstairs and opened the freezer. “Do you have any pizza rolls, or those frozen cheese-stuffed pretzel things? I’m starving.”

  “It’s all in the freezer,” Nate said. “Help yourself.”

  “Pizza rolls, pretzels, and coffee,” Ari said, dumping a bunch of brown-colored frozen food from boxes onto a tray and sticking it in the oven, then turning her attention to the coffee pot. “My kind of midnight snack.”

  “Healthy,” Nate commented.

  “She eats like my 13 year old son,” Sophia chimed in.

  “She’s still got the taste buds of a kid,” Nate said, smiling in Ari’s direction.

  “You wouldn’t know it from her coffee shop, though. The Little Cafe has a good selection of sandwiches and salads, and even the baked goods are decent,” Sophia said.

  “Impressive,” Nate said, watching Ari, who was pouring water into the coffee maker. “Wouldn’t have guessed.”

  “What do you do, Nate?” Sophia asked.

  “I’m a lighting technician for a show.”

  “Please tell me it’s not a show called Thunder Mountain.”

  Nate chuckled. “Nope, Cirque.”

  “Oh, that’s a good one. I would go see that.”

  “Here,” Nate said, handing her a tall glass containing a pale liquid. “This should settle your stomach and mitigate the near-future consequences of your day of marathon drinking.”

  Sophia tentatively took a sip out of politeness, but was pleasantly surprised to discover that it was good. It tasted fresh, with a slightly bitter edge, but not altogether unpalatable. She took another sip.

  Meanwhile, Nate and Ari chatted amicably and filled up the coffee table in the living room with various assorted junk food, hot from the oven, and poured big mugs of coffee. The three sat around the coffee table, chatting with the music still playing softly in the background.

  “So, Nate, perhaps you can tell me
about this mystery job Ari used to have in Vegas?” Sophia asked.

  Nate shook his head. “I don’t think it’s my story to tell. All I can tell you is that the two of us worked together in a coffee shop on the campus of this big-ass company in Silicon Valley in high school-”

  “What is with Ari and coffee?” Sophia asked, looking over at Ari, who was sitting cross-legged in an large chair and nursing her oversized mug of coffee as she munched on a soft pretzel.

  “It’s her thing. Though I’m pretty sure she just started a coffee shop so she could buy coffee beans in bulk at wholesale prices,” Nate said.

  “You’ve got it,” Ari said.

  “Clever woman,” Sophia said, nodding. “Anyways, continue. How did you two end up out here?”

  Nate glanced at Ari. “I think we both wanted to get out of the world we were surrounded by: we just saw all of these professionals in a rat race, running in circles, trying to keep up with everything – work, their boss’ demands, pressure from peers, buying the latest trends – everything that Ari and I thought was meaningless. Ari left home first on a roadtrip, I followed, and eventually we met up here.”

  “Vegas is an odd choice for two people who hate frivolous, shallow things,” Sophia commented.

  Ari nodded. “Yeah, we’d intended to go further East.”

  “But then we stopped here for a few days, met a few people, and kind of decided to settle in for a while. We both worked as bartenders to earn some cash at first,” Nate said.

  “I’m sure there are plenty of opportunities for that here,” Sophia said.

  “After a while we met these people at work, and learned there were ways to make more money, faster, which was pretty appealing in a city that’s kind of expensive for a couple of 20 years olds to live in. They connected us to some guys who had a private investigation business, and we became private investigators,” Ari said.

  “That’s not a career you hear about every day. Was it dangerous?” Sophia asked.

  Nate shrugged, but Ari shook her head. “I never felt like I was really in danger when I was working for someone else. But as I became more experienced, I decided to start my own business doing it. Like an independent contractor, basically. That was a bit dicier.”