Platinum (All That Glitters #3)(25)

Nothing.

And that was what she felt like.

Nothing.

And that was what she would be.

Nothing.





BLACK SMEARS MARRED HER PILLOWCASE.

Trihn didn’t even want to know what her face looked like if her pillow seemed to have come out on the wrong end of a war zone.

After staying up, crying for hours, she had finally fallen into a fitful slumber. Her chest ached, but thankfully, her eyes were dry. She reached for her phone on the nightstand. She cursed when she saw that she had let it die. She plugged it in and trudged to the bathroom to shower off last night’s crippling depression.

She pulled her wet hair up into a ballet bun and then changed into some lounge clothes. She checked her now charged phone and saw that she had a bunch of missed calls and texts. Her head ached from just looking at all the people who had tried to reach out to her. She was the most introverted extrovert out there, and today was a day to shut the phone off, crawl back into bed, and start over.

The only message she would check was the voice mail from a number she didn’t know. It might be important. People didn’t leave voice mails unless it was important, and then she could text them back.

She pressed the message and then lay back in bed and closed her eyes.

“Hey, Trihn. It’s Damon.”

Trihn popped up in surprise. What the hell?

“I got your number from Maya. She seemed worried about you before you left, and you never texted her to let her know you made it home. So, now, I’m worried about you, too. Well, now, I’m more worried. I thought you were going to wait for me. Anyway, I just hope you’re okay. Call me back to let me know if you’re okay or if you need anything.”

The voice mail ended, and Trihn rolled over and buried her face in her pillow. She’d forgotten to text Maya. She jotted out a quick text to let Maya know she was alive, but she couldn’t handle Damon right now.

She needed to talk to someone who understood what she was going through. She hadn’t told Bryna or Stacia or anyone else why she had decided to come to LV State.

Instead of responding to the rest of her mountain of text messages, she dialed her friend Renée’s number. Growing up, they had danced at the New York City Dance House, and then Renée had accepted a full ride to Juilliard, going on to pursue her dream of becoming a professional ballerina. It was impressive for anyone, but Renée hadn’t had the best upbringing, as an African American female in the Bronx.

“Well, this is a pleasant surprise,” Renée said when she answered the phone. “What can I do for you, hooker?”

“Is that any way to talk to your best friend?”

“The only way, as far as I’m concerned. How is it, being back in fabulous Las Vegas?” she trilled.

“Meh,” Trihn said softly. “My boyfriend broke up with me. I had a one-night stand with a guy who wants to date me, but I’m too emotionally f*cked up to commit to anything, except crying myself to sleep. Oh, and did I mention that Preston and Lydia got engaged last night?”

“Shut the f*ck up!” Renée cried.

“Yep.”

“I sympathize with you about the first two things, but Lydia and Preston! Tell me you told her to go f*ck herself when she said they were getting married.”

“Not exactly.”

“Trihn! This guy ruined your life. You can’t just let him win.”

“He already won!” Trihn cried. “He won back at the stupid f*cking Hamptons, Renée! Now, they’re getting married. And she asked me to be the maid of honor.”

Renée snorted. “That’s f*cking rich. Lydia never ceases to amaze me. It’s like she rewrote her own version of history, just forgetting everything that had happened that drove you to Las Vegas in the first place.”

“History is told by the winners,” Trihn murmured.

A part of her desperately wanted to be back in New York right now, so she and Renée could have this talk in person. They could go to the studio afterward and take class until her muscles were too sore to continue. But she had chosen Vegas, and she loved her life and friends here. Just hearing Renée’s voice though made Trihn miss home.

“You absolutely cannot go to that wedding, and you definitely can’t be her maid of honor,” Renée told her.

“She’s my sister.”

“Seriously?”

Trihn heard another voice on the other end of the line, and then Renée muffled the phone.

“You talk some sense into her,” Trihn heard Renée say to someone else.

“Hello?” Ian said into the phone a few seconds later.

Trihn’s and Ian’s parents would vacation together throughout the year. Since she was a kid, she had spent nearly every summer, spring, and winter break with him and his family. He was at Columbia, studying computer science, and since she had been out of town, his crush on her had disappeared, and he had a blossoming relationship with Renée. Trihn thought it was adorable.

“Hey, Ian.”

“Renée said that Lydia and Preston got engaged?”

“Yeah, they did. Last night.”

“You’re not thinking of going, are you?”

“She’s my sister, Ian,” she whispered. It felt like that should mean something.