Reeling in Love

by Gloria Herrmann

  Tiffany begged for them to dance on the makeshift dance floor, where every inch was occupied by people bumping and grinding. Molly didn’t want to risk losing their precious spot. “You guys go. I’ll hold down the fort.” They didn’t try to convince her to join them and she was oddly a little sad that they hadn’t at least attempted to lure her.

  So Molly did what she did best—people-watch. She mentally captured shots of them, studying the angles, their movements, all the characteristics that made them unique. She hadn’t been paying any attention to Tiffany and Mackenzie, who had been swallowed up in the sea of dancing bodies, when she heard some wild clapping and turned her to head to see Mackenzie and Tiffany on top of a table. Oh no.

  Two overly muscular security guys were attempting to remove her friends from it. Tiffany began shouting at them. Darting from her spot, Molly rushed over before things got too out of hand.

  “Ma’am, you need to stop yelling,” the meatier of the two bouncers said. His black shirt with the bold white letters that read ‘Security’ clung against his broad chest. Molly couldn’t help but realize how hot he was, minus the shiny bald head. Bald was not always beautiful. Some guys could pull it off. This guy? Not so much.

  The other bouncer was talking to Mackenzie calmly, offering his hand to help her down, which—thankfully—she accepted without a word. Tiffany was now fighting with the meaty bald one.

  “No way. I’m not getting down. It’s a free country, Mr. Clean,” Tiffany shouted as she continued to move to the music.

  Great, so she’s noticed he’s bald, too. Molly tried not to laugh at Tiffany’s remark. She’d have to give it her. It was kind of fitting.

  “Come on, Tiff. Get down from there,” Molly asked sweetly. She felt like she was talking her friend off the ledge or something, and she felt ridiculous.

  “You should come up.” Tiffany even tried reaching out to Molly.

  The security guard made his move and snatched her off the table. Tiffany started kicking with a stunned look upon her face. He sat her down on the ground and looked over at Molly. “You guys need to leave now before we call law enforcement.”

  “Yes, sir. I completely understand.” Molly smiled and grabbed Tiffany’s arm, only for Tiffany to wiggle free.

  “No, we paid to be here like everyone else. We’re just having fun.”

  Molly tried to catch a peek at Mackenzie for a little back-up, not that her drunk ass would be much help. She saw her chatting with the bouncer, a wide smile on her face, and he was laughing at something she had just said. Good for her, but she could use her friend’s help wrangling Tiffany.

  “It’s late. We really need to head back to the hotel, Tiff.”

  The bouncer gave Tiffany a stern look, while she snarled at him. “You suck, Mr. Clean.”

  Molly grabbed Tiffany again, tightening her grasp so that she couldn’t get away. “Enough,” Molly quietly growled to her. “You want him to call the cops?”

  “Yeah, I bet they’re a lot hotter than his stupid ass.”

  “Please just stop, Tiffany. You are going to get us all in trouble.”

  Tiffany rolled her eyes and laughed. “He can’t do shit. We didn’t do anything wrong,” Tiffany spouted. Molly could smell the alcohol wafting from her mouth.

  Molly offered an apologetic smile to the bouncer. “Again, sir, I’m sorry. We’ll be going now.”

  He nodded but didn’t move. Molly knew this wasn’t his first run-in with an overly drunk woman, but it was embarrassing.

  “I suggest you hurry,” he said.

  Molly picked up on the irritation in his gruff voice.

  Molly dragged Tiffany away. She was growing more heavy and limp. The adrenaline had obviously worn off now. “Mackenzie, we need to go now, dear.”

  “Boo-hoo. This lovely gentleman is such a riot.” Mackenzie was gazing up at him, wearing the brightest smile she’d seen on her friend in a long time.

  Molly did have to admit the guy was pretty smokin’. He was clean-shaven and had a strong jawline. His eyes were a hazel tone, from what Molly could make out in the low light. His muscular arms were covered in ink, brightly colored and attention grabbing. He had his hand on the small of Mackenzie’s back and seemed intrigued by her. Too bad. This very well could have been the start of something quite interesting.

  “Here. Let me escort you guys out and make sure you get a cab,” he offered. Molly was impressed by his manners. He didn’t act like Mr. Clean, who was, in all honesty, just doing his job. But this guy was just more personable and easier on the eyes. Molly was pretty sure all the women were more than happy to listen to him. Too bad he hadn’t asked Tiffany off the table. She probably would have happily jumped into his arms, and Molly wouldn’t have had to kiss Mr. Clean’s ass.

  Once outside the bar, he waited with them until a mustard-yellow cab rolled up, the city lights reflecting off the paint. Molly scanned the streets. It was still crowded and it was well into the wee hours of the morning. The bouncer was chatting with Mackenzie to the side, both of them laughing. Tiffany had grown quiet.

  Molly opened the cab door. “Go ahead and get in.”

  Tiffany looked up at her. She appeared a little green around the gills. “I can’t.”

  “Come on. Let’s hurry back to the hotel,” Molly begged.

  Tiffany stared at her, looking as though she were going to speak, then it came. Molly had expected it all night, right after Tiffany had consumed the hot dog. The foul vomit poured like a waterfall from Tiffany. Molly gagged at the stench. She bunched up Tiffany’s long hair, keeping it out of her face and was careful to dodge the vomit as it splattered against the black asphalt. Sure enough, there were the chunks of hot dog she’d known she would see again.

  Why doesn’t anyone ever listen to me?

  Chapter Ten

  “Ugh, my head,” Tiffany whimpered from her bed, nestled in fluffy pillows and piercingly bright comforters and sheets, all a brilliant white.

  The room itself was dark. Tiffany had begged them earlier to keep all the blinds and curtains closed. She even wore a washcloth over her eyes, shielding her from any possible light.

  “How much did I drink last night?”

  “A fair amount,” Mackenzie answered. She was sitting at the small table and sipping her coffee. She wasn’t the least bit hungover and she nibbled on a cream cheese Danish.

  Molly had just gotten out of the shower. She needed to have that shower back home. It was incredible, at the very least. It was relaxing and simply the best thing ever. “Yeah, you were downing a lot of drinks last night, girlie. Where you messed up was mixing that damn beer with all that vodka and rum. You should know better.”

  “Why’d you guys let me? I don’t recall drinking that much,” Tiffany muttered.

  “Well, I think your aching head and empty stomach will tell you otherwise,” Mackenzie said. “So what are you planning to do today, ladies?”

  “I was thinking later I’d like to take some pictures around town,” Molly answered, towel drying her hair. “Is there more coffee?”

  Mackenzie nodded and pointed to the mini pot full of the dark liquid.

  “I need coffee, but I don’t know if my stomach can handle it quite yet.” Tiffany threw the comforter over her head and buried herself farther under.

  “You guys want to watch a show or something tonight?” Mackenzie suggested. “Or maybe gamble a little?”

  “That might be fun,” Molly replied as she poured herself a cup of coffee and joined Mackenzie at the table.

  “What do you think, Tiffany?” Mackenzie asked.

  “I want to die,” was Tiffany’s muffled answer. Molly felt awful for her—been there, done that.

  “You say that every time,” Mackenzie quipped and took a sip from her cup. “You’d think you would realize that we aren’t kids anymore.”

  “She’s always been a puker, too,” Molly added, plating a berry Danish onto a small saucer.

  “You guys suck. You know that?�
� Tiffany grumbled.

  “Some of us better than others,” Mackenzie winked to Molly.

  “So, Mackenzie, what’s up with that bouncer?” Molly steered the conversation. She was curious as to what that whole thing had been about. It appeared that Mackenzie had had an instant connection with the tattooed wonder. Granted, Mackenzie had been a bit intoxicated, but she’d seemed to really like the guy.

  “Not much to say, really. I am meeting him later for lunch, though.” Mackenzie avoided eye contact and appeared to be waiting for one of them to say something snide or stupid.

  Molly shrugged. “That’s awesome. Does this bouncer have a name?”

  “He might,” Mackenzie smiled, savoring her little secret.

  Mackenzie deserves to enjoy this, after the craptastic relationships she’s been in. She was owed a fun fling.

  “So how long will you be out with Mr. Bouncer?” Molly asked as she brushed crumbs from her chest, plucking a stray piece of pastry from her cleavage. Big boob problems… Snacks tended to land in there a lot.

  “Okay, his name is Jason. He’s really kind of awesome, to be honest.” She squealed with barely contained excitement.

  “You got all that from hanging out with him for like…ten minutes. Love at first sight, then?” Molly teased.

  “I can’t really explain it, but the connection was instant. I know I was drunk, but I wasn’t completely trashed.” Mackenzie motioned toward Tiffany, who was silent now, probably sleeping off the hangover.

  “Well, you know, sometimes it’s like that. It can just hit you that quickly. This is so great, Mac. I totally believe in love at first sight and sharing that crazy connection with someone.”

  “Like with Owen?” Mackenzie raised her eyebrows, searching Molly with her dark eyes.

  “That’s different,” Molly argued.

  “Is it? Because that seemed like a pretty instant connection.” Mackenzie slowly took the last bite of her Danish, popping it into her mouth, letting Molly digest the question.

  “Oh, Mackenzie, I don’t even know where to begin with the whole Owen thing. If I were being completely honest with myself, I do have feelings for him and my body turns to liquid heat whenever I hear his voice or he’s around. I’m terrified of screwing it all up, though.”

  “Molly, what is it that you want out of life?” Mackenzie held her head in her palms, her elbows anchored to the table, while she stared at Molly.

  “I’m not sure. I mean, I have you and Tiffany and my work, which is a dream come true. Do I even need more?”

  “The simple answer? Yes. The long answer? Yes, you do, because you deserve to have it all, Molly—the career, the friendship, the perfect guy and a happy life, maybe even a couple of kids thrown in for good measure.” Mackenzie was fighting back tears.

  That caused a swift reaction in Molly, feeling her own salty tears threatening to pour.

  “Molly, we all deserve it. But you have always been an amazing friend to me and you, above everyone else, should have that happily ever after. You constantly cut yourself down. You don’t see the value that we all see. You are worth so much. You have a heart of pure gold.”

  “Do you think the casinos here would accept that as payment?” Molly joked. Compliments always made her feel awkward. For some weird reason, Molly couldn’t act like a normal person and say ‘thank you’. Instead, her mind went into overdrive, crippling self-doubt erupted and she would immediately deflect. She might make fun of herself or turn the sweet gesture into a joke. She wished she were able to break herself of the self-deprecating habit, but Molly had always been that way. She didn’t know where it stemmed from. Her parents loved her. Her childhood had been normal and happy enough, so what the heck? She had no clue.

  “Moll, please.” Mackenzie paused for a moment then asked softly, “Have you considered talking to someone?”

  “Um, I talk to you and Tiffany all the time,” Molly answered, knowing full well what Mackenzie was suggesting.

  A therapist. It had obviously crossed her mind, especially with her fear of relationships. She wanted to be fixed, but it was sort of frightening at the same time. The thought of talking to a professional didn’t really bring on those warm and fuzzy feelings—someone getting paid to judge her, to decide just how broken she was? No thanks. Molly would rather buy a bottle of booze and an extra-cheese-covered pizza then hash out her problems with her besties. She trusted their advice, not some guy in an office, probably with a bright yellow notepad jotting down her every word, making her question if she’d slipped up and said something that would make her look crazy.

  “Don’t you want to know why you are so scared of getting involved with someone? Like why you suck at relationships?”

  “Mackenzie, we all suck,” Tiffany hollered. She flipped the comforter off herself and sat up. “It’s not just Molly or just me. It’s all of us.”

  “Well, maybe you should talk to someone, too,” Mackenzie suggested.

  “Oh please. I can diagnose all of us. We can spend our money on something much better.”

  Molly laughed out loud. “I was just thinking booze and pizza.”

  “Exactly,” Tiffany said as she started to remove herself slowly from the bed. She shuffled over to the coffee and poured herself a cup, then joined them. She looked like hell. Her hair was a tangled mess. Remnants of her makeup were streaked all over her face and the whites of her eyes were bloodshot. Yeah, not the least bit cute, but Molly loved her anyway, especially for defending them as all being screw-ups.

  “Feeling better?” Molly asked, stroking Tiffany’s arm, to which she nodded.

  “I just wanted to point out that none of us are married or involved in any kind of serious relationship, so it’s not just Molly.” She blew at her coffee to cool the steaming liquid and touched her lips carefully to the rim of the white cup.

  “I’m not trying to insult her. I was simply advising that she consider seeing someone who might be able to help her resolve her issues,” Mackenzie tried to explain, flipping Tiffany an annoyed look.

  “Mackenzie, she doesn’t need to be fixed. Trust me. Owen is the one. She’ll figure that out,” Tiffany said, then turned to Molly. “Once she quits overthinking everything, she’ll come around and see that everything will be amazing.” For a hungover chick, Tiffany was radiating some pretty damn positive energy.

  “Thanks. I sure hope you’re right.” Deep down she wondered if Owen was the right guy for her. She’d find out soon enough.

  “I am,” Tiffany said confidently.

  Mackenzie rolled her eyes. “Okay, lovebirds. I’m not even going to continue this conversation. But, Molly, you should consider seeing a therapist. I’m actually seeing one,” she admitted quietly.

  “What? Since when?” Molly was shocked. Tiffany looked equally surprised.

  “Oddly enough, since right before my sister died.”

  Molly and Tiffany exchanged confused looks.

  “I needed to see why my relationship with Gideon didn’t work out,” Mackenzie answered.

  Tiffany huffed. “It didn’t work out because he was an ass.”

  “I wish it were that cut and dried, but it’s much more complicated. We had a lot of issues, but I loved him.”

  “He left you. You were engaged. In no way is that cool. There’s nothing complicated about that.” Tiffany sipped more of her coffee.

  “Well, to be fair, I don’t think the timing was right. He had just gotten back from one tour and was headed out for another. Sometimes things just don’t pan out.” Mackenzie looked away from both of them, unable to meet their eyes.

  Not too much later, Mackenzie left them to meet up with Jason aka Hot Bouncer. Tiffany was on the mend and decided to join Molly in exploring the city. Molly was eager to snap some great shots that she could tinker with editing once she got home.

  Once they’d exited the hotel and set out on foot to check out the more romantic aspects of Vegas, Tiffany pointed at things she felt Molly should capture with her
trusty camera. The sun was still beating down on the city, cooking everything. Molly wore a large but fashionable straw sunhat and shorts that exposed her pale legs. She had her camera strapped around her neck and felt more like a tourist than a photographer, but who cared? She was doing what she loved the most. Tiffany was dressed in pale blue jean capris and a simple T-shirt, looking thin and youthful. Molly felt a stab of jealousy. How is it that even after being so hungover, she still manages to look fabulous?

  “Oh, Moll, get that,” Tiffany ordered again. They had walked several miles and Molly’s camera was working overtime.

  “Do you want the camera?”

  “Nah, besides, you won’t even let me touch it. You’d think it was your firstborn or something.” Tiffany laughed as they stopped near a massive fountain in front of a hotel. The water was springing in synchronized action and was beautifully orchestrated. Only music was missing in this fantastic show. The light mist that hung in the air was refreshing and they both stood soaking in the coolness.

  “You hungry yet?”

  Snap, click. “I could eat.”

  “Just no hot dogs, like ever again.”

  “Oh, come on. I thought those were your favorite,” Molly teased as she snapped the alternating streams of water blasting up toward the hazy blue sky.

  “I will never eat another one again for as long as I live.” Tiffany shook her head in disgust.

  “I can’t say that I blame you.” Molly yawned. “You know? I could go for a coffee.”

  “Me too, actually.”

  They walked around until they located a coffee shop of sorts. It was hip and trendy, not unlike some of the newer coffee establishments in Seattle, and it did smell wonderful inside. Tiffany ordered a simple iced mocha. Molly ordered the largest cup—unfortunately bucket-size wasn’t an option—of a mocha and espresso blend. She hoped the caffeine would revive her. The heat and the partying from the previous night had simply sapped her of any energy. The pick-me-up would rescue her so that she could enjoy the rest of the day without a nap.